Uh, yeah, sure, a few of 'em. [Though... far less than he probably should. Far, far less. Sans actually looks somewhat troubled, scratching at the side of his skull.] Y'know, Alphys, and...
[A fuzz crosses over him. He knows their faces. They pepper the pages of his photo album, each one carrying lives and a history that Sans can't quite grasp. Strings that tear away and unravel more and more with each of his attempts to grasp them.
And then, of course, there was the blank space in those pictures. Most people probably wouldn't categorize a picture as having blank space, but there was no other way to describe it by Sans' approximation. An absence. The only picture that didn't was one he'd scribbled by hand, long ago, and...
Something clicks. Sans looks up, his confusion veering towards surprise. The words don't come, all he can do is stare with a mixture of alarm and hope.]
no subject
[A fuzz crosses over him. He knows their faces. They pepper the pages of his photo album, each one carrying lives and a history that Sans can't quite grasp. Strings that tear away and unravel more and more with each of his attempts to grasp them.
And then, of course, there was the blank space in those pictures. Most people probably wouldn't categorize a picture as having blank space, but there was no other way to describe it by Sans' approximation. An absence. The only picture that didn't was one he'd scribbled by hand, long ago, and...
Something clicks. Sans looks up, his confusion veering towards surprise. The words don't come, all he can do is stare with a mixture of alarm and hope.]