He nods along slowly, in the manner of a person who knows they're only following maybe half of what's being said but trying to play along anyway, even stilling his hands from the attempts to work them free. The metaphor of a snowball, of something starting small and getting larger and worse with time, is familiar enough not to dwell on. That this is a 'refresher' is more concerning, given how many unfamiliar references and expectations he's already been running into. But that nickname this yet-unnamed man keeps using...

"The 'Reds'... From the Red Alert?" Papyrus asks slowly, unsure if he'll get an answer. Because boy, does he remember that repeating message, from that lengthy time sheltering beneath the fire department. He'd almost be fond of the memory, between the uncanny homesick feeling it gave him even before he unexpectedly found his brother there... If not for the way nobody else even mentioned it afterwards. Maybe keeping things like that secret is part of the way of fighting this war he's apparently being conscripted into, here?