Papyrus didn't really catch his intend with that admission, but Sans doesn't really mind. He's sure as hell not going to correct him - especially now that he's having a harder time looking at him.

"Hey, it's not nothin'," he says, sounding tired again, and just letting himself go to sleep right there on the floor seems really appealing. Topical, too. "Especially with me giving you such a hard time."

His fingers tense in place, still folded over his chest in recline. There's a subtle darkness in the way he says that, but not enough that it seems like it was his desired effect.