"Or, if you can't remember friendship yet... Remember your promises," Papyrus tells the fae as he approaches - but instead of joining the group by her head, he circles around to her side.

There he squints through the caustic fog at her boney paws, grinning a grimace with the pain. Not with any intent of flanking her, but looking for signs of injuries, or bindings. There's storybooks about things like that, aren't there? Mice digging thorns out of lions' paws. Just in case.

"You need to help me save my home, you made a deal and everything. We're counting on you to be you."