"Huh? I'm not doing anythi-- Oh," Papyrus realizes, looking down at the evidence all over his hand. The bone must have been softer than he intended, or something.
He is getting the sense that Sans can't so easily fall in line. That Papyrus can't simply pull anybody into this understanding. That it's completely up to the Void, who gets this gift of resolution. And, working in this flawed, terrible world, of course even the Void's methods are flawed and unfair. Some of the others have friends or family, changed into 'familiars' with a fraction of the same power, accompanying them with an eagerness to help. Papyrus? Alone, unpopular, and brushed out of planning anything. Unimportant.
Tyki was probably right. CY-Ren's plans were created without any knowledge who would be chosen, what their particular talents would be. They're just aids to provide distractions, and be where she can't.
He should at least be happy with his success, now that nobody's stinging each other, or preventing the plan from moving forward, or taking Papyrus hostage in the carnival to be pitied by the ignorant... And he is, a little.
"I'm putting you to sleep. I was... So we could talk, later! Without you attacking me," he clarifies. "But then, we talked now? Really talked, more than I expected. ...I'm not sure what to do next."
Maybe a few minutes after Sans is knocked out, a few without emotional whiplash or accusations, will be enough for him to figure it out.
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He is getting the sense that Sans can't so easily fall in line. That Papyrus can't simply pull anybody into this understanding. That it's completely up to the Void, who gets this gift of resolution. And, working in this flawed, terrible world, of course even the Void's methods are flawed and unfair. Some of the others have friends or family, changed into 'familiars' with a fraction of the same power, accompanying them with an eagerness to help. Papyrus? Alone, unpopular, and brushed out of planning anything. Unimportant.
Tyki was probably right. CY-Ren's plans were created without any knowledge who would be chosen, what their particular talents would be. They're just aids to provide distractions, and be where she can't.
He should at least be happy with his success, now that nobody's stinging each other, or preventing the plan from moving forward, or taking Papyrus hostage in the carnival to be pitied by the ignorant... And he is, a little.
"I'm putting you to sleep. I was... So we could talk, later! Without you attacking me," he clarifies. "But then, we talked now? Really talked, more than I expected. ...I'm not sure what to do next."
Maybe a few minutes after Sans is knocked out, a few without emotional whiplash or accusations, will be enough for him to figure it out.