[Perhaps it's in earnest, or maybe just reflexive, but Sans chuckles in response. His bones rattling slightly from the effort.]
Whaddya want me to say, I'm jealous?
[It's not particularly pointed either, landing somewhere between a joke and a sincere question. The combination feels strange against his jaw, and Sans refocuses his gaze up towards the stars. Right. He was supposed to be picking one.]
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Whaddya want me to say, I'm jealous?
[It's not particularly pointed either, landing somewhere between a joke and a sincere question. The combination feels strange against his jaw, and Sans refocuses his gaze up towards the stars. Right. He was supposed to be picking one.]