[She folds the handkerchief carefully in her lap. Her gaze anywhere but on Sans.]

There are many things that are my fault, Sans. [She unfolds the handkerchief, starting the process a new. Lipstick smearing across the fur of her fingers.]

I couldn't save them. I couldn't help them when they withered away. I... I guess they have a right to hate me. I promised them a better life and I could not give it to them.