"Have you... met my brother?" Papyrus asks, eyesockets squinting as if Psi is a too-bright light. He glances away, shaking his head. "Going to Sans for answers is an exercise in futility. And I get plenty of exercise, I don't need that!"

Even he can recognize when he's derailing the topic, sometimes. So he continues, "Sans hates being honest. He hasn't changed that much."