"Delight's housing, more or less." He'll end up there eventually, he figures, but it'd be awful nice if he could make it there in one go rather than this staggered thing he's been having to pull off since he's got a dearth of actual energy. He's always got a dearth of actual energy, technically, but copious sleepin' tends to keep a little on reserve somewhat.

Not so right now. Turns out having these things chewing at your tailbone makes it a little difficult to get any decent shut-eye.

"Glad to know you're hardy in a crisis," Sans adds, his tone utterly neutral - whether that's a commendation or a judgment is up to her.