A pool party under actual sun is kind of novel. Really, pools in general are kind of novel, after having lived in Snowdin for so long. That's really not a swimming pool kind of town. The jello creations are novel, too, and Sans is spending more time wiggling them on his plate than actually eating them. Sans is sticking to the nonalcoholic punch; spending most of his time back home in the bar, it's not as if he's a teetotaler, but he never quite lets Marjorie out of his peripheral vision, which explains that well enough to anyone who knows Sans well.

It explains Sans's response, too: "Yeah, probably." A cannonball competition sounds entertaining to watch, and therefore it's probably against regulations somewhere.

He doesn't say that, though. Just like he doesn't ask Papyrus about where he was the other night. At least Papyrus is here right now. That's going to have to be good enough. He sits down next to Papyrus, wiggling gelatin in his general direction.