Sans curls his legs in towards himself, as if that question has suddenly knocked something loose in his mind. Something about J's phrasing makes him angry, but not enough to act on it. Instead he just keeps the crystal away from him, his bones rattling slightly with tension.

Does he knows what it is? He's pretty sure he does. The answer still makes him ill.

He stares at J, and then back down at the crystal, the magic in his left eye flickering and wavering. God, he has to get it together, but feeling this thing again has his mind feeling as vulnerable and violated as it did back when it happened. He can't think straight. He's sick and he's scared.

"It's her soul," he says hollowly, closing his eyes for a moment as if in strain. When he opens again they are both empty and black.