Papyrus shakes his head at the question, but they both listen attentively to the explanation - and demonstration.

"No wonder I don't feel more vulnerable," the skeleton says as the daemon shifts to a moth, drifting down to look at the injury close up. "I'm already dust, magic, and soul! So we really are just split in two. And she's not going far."

The moth's wings flutter, hovering a foot or two above the scratched foot. "But... monster dust doesn't glow. Does it?"