Oh. She forgets, sometimes, that Sans can teleport. She's almost certain she knows someone else who can - Twilight, she thinks distantly - but this is different somehow.

She crosses the kitchen, encircles Sans in a hug - firm but not too tight - and rests her chin on top of his head. "You have me," she reminds him with as much calm as she can manage. "You have Papyrus. You have Frisk. You have Luce, and the Doctor, and Rei, and Ivan, and we all care about you. We'll keep you together, and we'll keep you here - you simply need to talk to us."

She pauses for a moment before continuing. "Plus, I don't think the knives are very good conversationalists."