The blasters snarl from their places on the floor, their jaws still clamped shut, emitting an aimless exhaust of magical energy from between their fangs. Even as their aggression is somewhat tied to Sans's mental state, though, they also carry a note of his apparent resignation. Sans isn't fighting anymore. After a few more moments have passed, the blasters disappear.

It had been his last ditch effort and defending himself, and he'd failed. He barely even recognizes Rarity's approach after the fact - he just lets himself hang from his bonds, shaking all over, his sockets empty as if unseeing. He's not even really in the room anymore. In all the ways that matter, his mind is somewhere else, and it's somewhere he feels trapped.

He closes his eyes, flinching as Rarity touches him, leaning his head away from her hand slightly as if he wants to pull himself away from it but knows he doesn't have the freedom of movement to do so. He's gone from trying to fight to the acceptance of total helplessness in a matter of moments. There's a terrible kind of apprehension to his surrender, his mind lost in reliving a series of potential horrors. He's panting in agitation in a way that is strange for a creature that doesn't breathe.

He knows that they've broken him. He was broken before they even started.