It's always been hard for Greg to tell the difference between Sans in a good mood, and Sans covering up distress. Then again, he's not sure if Sans can always tell, either--especially when this high.

All the weird things going on with Sans' hands, one weird phrasing over them doesn't jump out as any odder than average anymore. The layers upon layers of puns have formed an armor against easy detection.

Greg gives a pleased sigh. "Maybe that's what's been spreading the cheer around. It pays to know a guy with sticky fingers."