[ The unbridled enthusiasm, the chattiness, the hyperfocus. It was as comforting and nostalgic to Sans as anything else on this ship -- a ghost of something familiar and friendly, dressed up with a stranger's face. That kind of nostalgia was doing a lot of work on Newt's behalf, casting his unplanned speech in a very specific light.

Sans leans against his hand, caught between enjoying himself and homesickness. To look at him, enjoying himself was certainly the most visible of the two forces. ]

Bound to be a few somewhere. It's space, right? [ A fact that truly had yet to sink in. All those years reading waterlogged astronomy books from the 70s, and here they all were. ] I'll keep an eye socket out, but you gotta give me a sense of what counts as 'badass'. Which is your favorite?

[ He nodded to Newt's visible arms, the question obvious. Pick your favorite child, Newton. ]