All righty, this sure is happening now. He fizzles back into reality so abruptly he straight-up slams into another person, someone human or human-shaped and he can't reasonably tell, the only real thing he's aware of is the fact that he's about to fall and probably crack his skull open on the rock floor, effectively dusting himself, and he does the only thing he can think of to do, which is hook phalanges into the fabric of her shirt in the hopes that it'll keep him upright.

"Ah," Sans manages, because like most humans, she is really kinda tall compared to him, four feet of bones and magic that's crackin' out too brightly and too hotly, when it bothers to show up at all. And since she's real tall, his grip slackens and weakens almost immediately, dragged down by the weight of his own bones.

"Crap," he says, by way of apology, and promptly keels over.