[She wants to laugh, because she couldn't tell him why, either, but that seems familiar. Snatches of feelings, between worry, and happiness, and his pride. Always his pride.]

Yeah.

[She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering the note, keeping him in her mind as she speaks.]

He was always trying to... be this idea of what he s-should be. Make us what he wanted, but parts of him would... slip through. Like one day you'd see him laugh, just once, and you'd realize, h-he was lying to himself as much as he lied to you.

[Hitting the cup stuck in his hand with a hammer. Sans is laughing. She's laughing. She sees him smile, for what she thinks now might have been the first time.]