He casts his human eyes down after a second or so, his palps still fussing, but the other eyes, hovering in the air around him or stuck to his livery, don't move or close, and his hand with the tray stays steady.

"I know. The master's butt is so much nicer, anyway! But you should eat while there's food." A couple of forwards-facing eyes close and disappear. Others open to let him see in more directions. "We all should."

He's pretty sure Sans hates him, and he should, but in a way this is better than the benign bewilderment of those foolish carnies. Not as good as serving the new guests, of course, but duty can't all be light.