Snowdin was quiet, save for the crunch of bones lazily shuffling across the icy ground. Sans, hoodie up and grin steady, stepped into the middle of a snowbank so deep it swallowed him to the ribs.

“heh. cold reception,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded, clearly impressed by his own pun.

He plopped down, letting the snow pile around him like a chilly bean bag. The flakes danced down like powdered sugar, dusting his skull, his hoodie, even the tip of his glowing blue eye. For a moment, he was still.

Then, with no warning whatsoever, he leaned forward and planted a dramatic, exaggerated smooch on a fresh pile of snow.

“mwah.”

Papyrus, walking by with a scarf flapping like a cape, stopped in his tracks. “SANS! ARE YOU… KISSING THE GROUND?!”

Sans leaned back, still half-buried. “nah bro. snow's just got a cool personality.”

Papyrus groaned, storming off to make spaghetti for someone who deserved it. Meanwhile, Sans flopped fully into the snow, chuckling to himself.

“cold never bothered me anyway.”

Want me to turn that into a full comic-style scene or expand the story more?

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