[The way Margaret greets him--if you could call it that--gives him some vague sense of how bad his wound is, which is pretty bad. Of course, it feels pretty bad, but Sans isn't sure how much he should trust his own feelings on it, given his lack of experience with human bodies. He keeps his hand in place as directed, letting her drag him inside without complaint.]

Uh, pretty deep. Didn't exactly have a ruler or anything... [His grin is a little lopsided, but surprisingly together given the situation. This isn't his first life-threatening situation, at least, even if it's one where he doesn't really understand the resilience of his own body.] Got attacked by, uh--a hawk, I think? Definitely wasn't a pigeon.