[There's a moment as the scarf leaves his hand that Sans feels something catch at the back of his jaw. A strange feeling of letting go of something, even just for a little while.

And yet he couldn't help feeling as if where ever Papyrus was, whatever was left of him in that old tattered red scarf, he would be pretty pleased with sharing something cool with someone who really appreciated it.]

That's the thing about armor. [He points out a few of the tears and rips scattered across its hem.] You can bang it up and it still works. No matter how much trouble you get into.

[I'm sure your brother's the coolest.

If Sans' expression was anything to go by, that was putting it mildly. Caught between amused, impressed, and distantly happy in a way he hadn't felt in some time.]

You look rad as heck, kiddo. [He juts a hand over his shoulder, back towards the Observation Deck doors.] Ready?