The nervous energy that called him to cry out before begins to still at Papyrus's negative reaction. It's hard to understand the way that other people make him feel. He understands what dismay looks like, he knows on a certain level that Papyrus isn't a person that is inclined to show it on a regular basis. At least not the real kind.

Yet, his effect on other people is a weirdly mysterious concept. His idea of personal responsibility feels numb, like he's a fake shell existing among real people. Yet, the carnival workers that have come into see him, all have opinions and wants regarding him. How something so empty could have emotional consequence to anyone isn't something he feels like he could understand.

Was he ever like them? He intellectually feels like he must have been, when he still had a Name, but... what if that Name is everything he was, and now he's just what's left over?

Yet, he feels uneasy about Papyrus being this upset.

"I'm not... anything," he says, gingerly voicing the thoughts he'd just been having. "So you shouldn't worry about me. I'm not... whoever you remember. My master has all of that." He stares at the bed sheets.

"It's why I want to go back."