[The flurry of signs is familiar. With Frisk's help, Sans has been slowly relearning the language resurgence robbed from him. Months prior, Sans would have picked up the subtleties between each flick of the hand with ease -- as if it were native to him. Now, he has to squint, trying to keep up with the speed at which this stranger addressed him.
Frisk is much, much slower.]
I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't catch that. [He realizes, belatedly, he should be signing back. It's painfully slow as he tries to recall each sign and its corresponding letter, going for the easiest (and shortest) route he can. His efforts are painfully slowgoing.] ☠⚐ ☝☜❄ ✋❄
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Frisk is much, much slower.]
I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't catch that. [He realizes, belatedly, he should be signing back. It's painfully slow as he tries to recall each sign and its corresponding letter, going for the easiest (and shortest) route he can. His efforts are painfully slowgoing.] ☠⚐ ☝☜❄ ✋❄