You, uh. [He squints at the skeleton skeptically. This sounds...genuinely intriguing, and his brain is straining to grasp at the straws Sans is offering, but he can't -

He just can't -

Goddamnit. He leans back again, and his head hits the bench with a thump.]

Take a raincheck on the explanation of whatever the hell you're, y'know. But y'owe me that. 'Kay? We're not - we're not done.

[All he has to do is trust that he'll remember that through the hangover.]

Just. Later. Okay.