[He listens carefully, nodding, his brow furrowing in concentration as he tries to sort through the chaos of what was projected into his brain.]

I--I don't think I saw someone crying, [He admits in almost a reluctant tone, as if apologetic he can't corroborate this.] I heard--no, I--I couldn't hear. It looked like some sort of battlefield, or...or maybe a war. Someone was telling me I was going home. Something--

[Numbers cuts himself off, realizing he's beginning to ramble. The trained instinct to come off as cool and collected kicks in, and he straightens up, removing his hands from Papyrus and clearing his throat.]

Whoever he was, I didn't recognize him. And I didn't recognize where I was, either.