[ Sans makes a speculative noise at that, something low and rumbly, out of place with someone so short and little more than bones himself. ]

Maybe yeah, maybe no.

[ Not the most direct answer, but... eh. Sans hasn't really sorted out what, if anything, he feels about all this. He flicks a hand at the air, settles those phalanges around his drink -- the half-empty bottle of ketchup, that is. ]

Jury's still out about all'a this. I'm a go-with-the-flow kinda guy.

[ It kind of occurs to him, then, that there's gotta be parents of this kid around somewhere; not everyone had a big brother trying to make sense of things without a responsible adult around. ]

Uh... that means your parents are here too, right?