"I'm not talking about me," Sans insists, as if that makes a difference somehow. As Papyrus becomes harsher, Sans becomes more pleading. He's not really the type to beg, most of the time, but he most deeply feels the desire to escape this situation. He isn't as emotionally ready as he hoped he'd be.

There are some pains that can't be so easily washed away with the promise of easy contentment. These days, Sans only wishes it was that easy. As things become more tense, he finds himself straining to match.

"But... is that what you want, now? For me to just stop existing because it'd be easier than looking at me?" He can't keep his own note of bitterness from his voice, there. The feeling that he is just generally being an inconvenience by being alive is a pervasive one. "Then why don't you just do it? You've got me here, don't you?"