You know, that's fair. No sense making me even more envious of tanlines, or billowing hair...

[Papyrus gently pats the side of his skull, sighing faintly when he only touches bone and crystals. Maybe someday, skull. Maybe someday.

For now, he steps around to pick up a cleaning rag, and gets to work wiping up the ash accumulating on the table thanks to those sparklers. And all the burned things sitting on it. The heat's probably going to stain the wood, this was a terrible place to put all these things down.]

Psssh, "sleep."

[It's possible to touch a nerve in a guy who doesn't even have nerves. Papyrus shakes his head.]

I don't need to nap more than a couple hours once in a while! There's always things to do. Napping for hours and hours, every day... that strikes me as avoiding life!