As much as Sans insisted he would teach Papyrus 'how to take a nap,' as much as Papyrus has tried out of sincere exhaustion, sleep has been fleeting. He's awake again when Sokka comes in, staring in the direction of the television's black screen and faint reflections, half expecting it to turn on and start showing that movie again on its own. The way his limbs and face keep jerking are almost helpful, in that sense - he can feel he isn't restrained to a chair, when his leg kicks out before settling back into its stiffness. There's always a positive to be found, if one looks hard enough.

He startles a little when Sokka sits down to watch, because, well. By now, Papyrus has made enough sense of the situation that he's a bit embarrassed by it, on and off, when he recalls enough of the details. That Sans is showing so openly (for him) protective concern, that Papyrus is barely able to stand or walk with assistance, that his attention keeps wandering off into distraction and fear... That, insofar as he'd humored his brother's tales of a designated son, he'd expected to make a far more impressive impression.

And this whole train of thought is itself another distraction, as he almost misses Sokka's comment, almost forgets it before remembering to reply to it. "A sister...? Sans didn't..." He considers again, opening and closing his mouth with words he doesn't quite sound out. Tries to swallow and smile, with dawning sympathy. "Oh. A... real sister. Not here...?"