Sans gets the closest approximation to a raspberry a tongueless, mouthless monster is capable of making. "i see we're still 12, sansy. you know, some of us are mature enough not to complain that our friends and family have found the loves of their lives. or is that jealousy tal--

"what? it's done?!" There's a streak of pink in the air as the metal heart dashes out from under the bed's cover to examine the body-- aaaaaaaaaand immediately realizes where he is and ducks behind said machine.

"...if you could turn around, please?"