[ When at last the memory rolls like fog off his awareness, Sans finds himself sitting on the floor of the balcony, one hand on one of the stone pillars holding up the rail, less for support and more to touch the rough texture, a reminder of where and when he really is.
It had done him a lot of good while the memory went on.
Just kidding.
Sans picks himself back up, doesn't bother to dust off the seat of his track shorts, just shoves his hands into his pockets for the familiarity of the gesture.
Minutes more standing there to collect himself before he decides-- yeah, maybe he'll step back inside and peek, see how she's doing. ]
2/2
It had done him a lot of good while the memory went on.
Just kidding.
Sans picks himself back up, doesn't bother to dust off the seat of his track shorts, just shoves his hands into his pockets for the familiarity of the gesture.
Minutes more standing there to collect himself before he decides-- yeah, maybe he'll step back inside and peek, see how she's doing. ]