[Papyrus looks in from the kitchen, then approaches with a glass of milk cradled in one hand, some foam on his recently shaven lip.]
From me? No, that's not from me. I... did get you something, but not under the tree. That's for Santa gifts.
[His expression and voice are perturbed by the end of it. Ordinarily he would be cheered by a tree and by presents beneath it, but now? The Santa he knows of... almost surely isn't around, in a living sense, to be putting things under any trees. And trapping the tree inside, so it's only the 'family', makes it different than a public gift-giving. The whole thing is a mystery, one he needed milk for fortification before facing.]
v. secret santa
From me? No, that's not from me. I... did get you something, but not under the tree. That's for Santa gifts.
[His expression and voice are perturbed by the end of it. Ordinarily he would be cheered by a tree and by presents beneath it, but now? The Santa he knows of... almost surely isn't around, in a living sense, to be putting things under any trees. And trapping the tree inside, so it's only the 'family', makes it different than a public gift-giving. The whole thing is a mystery, one he needed milk for fortification before facing.]