Initially Papyrus just blinks at him, because it's hard to believe that it can't wait. Not when it took a few weeks for anybody to bother double-kidnapping him to an even more unfamiliar location, or to do anything else while there. To take decisive action when they don't know when, or if, anything like that might happen again...
"How... responsible," he manages to say with a smile, if a more bitter one than he usually aims for. His voice likewise betrays his unhappiness with the situation, even as he tries to force sincerity or at least approval into it.
And he does approve, at least a little, he realizes as he tries again to swallow against the dread of all of this. It hadn't take much for Sans to give up on trying to question him, to encourage him to laze about. It hadn't, somehow, taken much for Papyrus to agree to. Whatever fragments of rest he's managed to get haven't fixed much for his stiff and awful body or his proclivity to distraction, but... now, even while he's still desperate for more sleep, he's feeling embarrassed for going along with it so easily.
"That's responsible," he repeats, no happier but a little more sure of it. "Knowing... what happened. What we're... up against..."
The Red Threat, that sense of a movie on loop helpfully supplies, and he trails off with a shiver on top of the latest spasm. He doesn't want to recount the whole movie, but maybe it would be the right thing for the future. It might help Sans and this Sokka not go through the same thing. But... it's not what either of them was asking, about what happened to him the last... day or so?
"...What day is it?" Papyrus finally asks. He'd like to pretend he's forgotten what they're talking about, to find tangent after tangent until responsible Sokka goes away... But if he doesn't do that, if he does keep remembering what's going on long enough, he needs somewhere to start. Something like somewhen.
And then Life Happened to me as well, sorry for the delay!
"How... responsible," he manages to say with a smile, if a more bitter one than he usually aims for. His voice likewise betrays his unhappiness with the situation, even as he tries to force sincerity or at least approval into it.
And he does approve, at least a little, he realizes as he tries again to swallow against the dread of all of this. It hadn't take much for Sans to give up on trying to question him, to encourage him to laze about. It hadn't, somehow, taken much for Papyrus to agree to. Whatever fragments of rest he's managed to get haven't fixed much for his stiff and awful body or his proclivity to distraction, but... now, even while he's still desperate for more sleep, he's feeling embarrassed for going along with it so easily.
"That's responsible," he repeats, no happier but a little more sure of it. "Knowing... what happened. What we're... up against..."
The Red Threat, that sense of a movie on loop helpfully supplies, and he trails off with a shiver on top of the latest spasm. He doesn't want to recount the whole movie, but maybe it would be the right thing for the future. It might help Sans and this Sokka not go through the same thing. But... it's not what either of them was asking, about what happened to him the last... day or so?
"...What day is it?" Papyrus finally asks. He'd like to pretend he's forgotten what they're talking about, to find tangent after tangent until responsible Sokka goes away... But if he doesn't do that, if he does keep remembering what's going on long enough, he needs somewhere to start. Something like somewhen.