Unfortunately for Papyrus, the subtle changes to the house in this alien world aren't immediately obvious to him. He doesn't spend a lot of time looking at the selfies he didn't take, for one. And even a few months as a human here haven't quite gotten him around to establishing a more consistent sleep schedule - he's still only begrudgingly cramming all those extra hours a day at some point or another.

Which is to say, he's groggy when he emerges from his room, eyes still too sleep-blurred to make out the changes in the photos around the place.

The new litterbox near the kitchen however, unexpected and unsought, that he all but trips over in a collision of foot and box that sends scented gravel skittering all over the linoleum and a startled yelp from his mouth. But he quickly covers his mouth to muffle any further sounds, unsure whether this is a prank from his brother, something more ominous from a home invader, or... something else.