Rosethorn winces. She felt like she ought to do this, but she doesn't have the answers to any of those questions. The questions themselves tell her more negative things about Sans. Now is hardly the time to indulge in criticism, though. It doesn't matter what Sans was like, not with him gone literally to dust. What matters is how his brother felt about him.

"You keep getting up in the morning, and eventually something will make you smile again," Rosethorn hasn't lost family, at least not through death. Finally giving up on her father, her brothers, and the illusion of love that she'd let them build up around her? That was an entirely different sort of loss. It hurt, of course, but it was a loss that she chose because it was what she needed. She's had friends, research partners, torn away from her without warning, but never anyone as close as a sibling. Those feelings, and the things Lark has told her over the years about her children's deaths, are the only basis she's going off of.

Here, at least, there's the possibility he'll return, but it isn't one she wants Papyrus to dwell on unless they have some reason to believe it's likely. Sans doesn't even have a body anymore, nothing to be revived.

She's silent for a moment, close enough to Papyrus that he can reach out if he needs to. Rosethorn's own hands twitch briefly toward him, then fall back to her sides. "Papyrus, humans have a lot of different traditions for honoring our dead, remembering them and saying goodbye. Do monsters have any? If you'd like to do something for Sans, I'll help you."