[If that's a joke, it's not up to Sans' usual standard. That said...still a joke. Still something.]
Sit tight.
[He stands up, crosses the infirmary, and returns a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. He sets one down on his chair and offers the other one to Sans, now-empty hand also held out expectantly.]
Trade you.
[If you're not going to use the blanket, he'll use it for you.]
no subject
Sit tight.
[He stands up, crosses the infirmary, and returns a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee. He sets one down on his chair and offers the other one to Sans, now-empty hand also held out expectantly.]
Trade you.
[If you're not going to use the blanket, he'll use it for you.]