So long as the Wyldlands are open to them, Syrlya decides to take advantage of it as well. It's more comforting than he expected, the large plant life and vibrancy feeling very familiar to home.

When Sans is sitting by the fire, Syrlya moves slowly and stiffly to sit nearby and offers him a brief smile. "Hello, Sans. How are you faring?"

Could be better than Syrlya, could be worse. A skeleton is hard to read sometimes. He's not sure if Sans has been told about getting hijacked yet.