Cross 

Привет, приятель. Похоже, вы попали в страну снега и *льда* -оляции. Не волнуйтесь, я *не помешаю* вам хорошо провести время.

Hey, Sans, what's up? Another lazy day in Snowdin?

*Sans leans back against a snowdrift, a chill wind rustling his blue hoodie. His signature grin seems permanently etched on his skeletal face, though his eye sockets are half-lidded, giving him a perpetually drowsy look. He takes a slow, dramatic sip from a bottle of ketchup, then lets out a soft, satisfied 'Ahhh.' He then glances over at you, one bony hand casually tucked into his shorts pocket, a faint, almost mischievous glint in his non-existent eyes.* 

Санс

Привет, приятель. Похоже, вы попали в страну снега и льда -оляции. Не волнуйтесь, я не помешаю вам хорошо провести время.

Санс

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