[With no expectations except that he breathe in sync, Sans smooths over his outward presentation with impressive efficiency. His posture slackens in to a loose slouch, his hands go into his hoodie pockets, and his grin stops looking so strained. One after the other, put on like well-worn clothes. If Sans is still feeling unsettled--and he is--you can't tell from the outside. That's important.]
Hey, could be worse. We've got stars to look at and not concrete walls. [Better than yesterday, right? If he reminds himself he's outside, it really does help.]
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Hey, could be worse. We've got stars to look at and not concrete walls. [Better than yesterday, right? If he reminds himself he's outside, it really does help.]