Oh. Well, then. Why couldn't Sans be fortunate to dream about having illegitimate kids instead of whatever fucked up nightmare his particular infant is involved in. Unless that child is his kid. God, he hopes not. That would just add insult to injury.

He looks back at Greg, his gaze a bit calmer now, more accepting. They've hit some kind of equilibrium, at least. A place where they can just talk it out, no matter how insane it all is. There's nowhere to go from here but up. (Thought with the notable dread of being wrong.)

He still doesn't understand that Greg means a kid that is literally here, in this physical universe.

"...So that's it, then, huh. This is really happening. Really and for actual." His mind whirls with the thought of it. From the very start he'd always thought of his own visions as some kind of memory, but actually have solid confirmation of it...too weird.

"You definitely believe this kid is real?"