"It doesn't," Sans agrees, deflating a bit given that Greg has no idea what to say about it either. His wings droop and refold themselves behind his back, having been flared out with agitation moments before. "But it's what I've been hearin'."

He flops down again, defeated. It's not really fair to take this out on Greg - not if they're maybe experiencing the same thing. He'd come here expecting that it would just be a him problem that Greg could listen to, and both of them potentially being embroiled in it changes that reality considerable.

"Whatever it was..." He trails off, staring into space. "I don't wanna go back to it, man. I dunno what that stuff I remembered was, but..."

He finds himself staring down at his hands, at a loss. The memory of it fills him with revulsion and fear.

"I don't want it."