"Look, just gimme..." he mumbles, pulling away from Greg's support for a moment. He traces a circle into the air with a claw, a faint glowing line left in its tracks. A moment later, the space in the middle vanishes into some kind of void, and a bunch of stuff falls out of it. A hoodie. Some shorts. A walkie talkie.

"...a sec..."

The hole warbles shut, and Sans immediately falls face forward into his pile of clothes and the lingering mountain of dust. A few moments later, he snores loudly.