"Ow," Papyrus groans from the far side of the room, pushing himself to a sitting position. "I thought... I thought the wards were in the door? Why did I think that, they're never in the doors..."

To the majority of his memories, it was a nonsensical thought. It takes him a second, but he figures it out. The barrier he remembers staring at for so long, it partly blocked the view of the far side with its pulsating gray light. Whereas here, the air between him and freedom looks like there's nothing there.

By the time he figures out his own cognitive error, Sans is shifting around and talking. If Papyrus understands Sans' implication, he doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around for some sign of runes or differently-colored materials that are the source of the ward.

"There won't be a next time! No more deals with demons. I'll stick to fae, and my own hard work, from here on out."