[That might have been a poor choice. At the very least, it makes Sans angry in a way he hadn't been, even before.

He turns on J suddenly, full of a fiercely aggressive kind of discontent despite ostensibly having no physical advantages here. His left eye flickers blue and gold. What is this, some kind of test? Some kind of mind probe trying to figure him out with reverse questioning? A paranoid suspicion has taken root, and now it's not clear if there's any going back.

No way, man. Not this shit. Not today.]

I'm about done having to answer questions for myself. [The words come out as a snap between unmoving teeth. They calm slightly in his next words - forced back behind the wall.] I like to take it easy, y'know? It's a bit more stress than I'd rather deal with.

So, how about you cut the shit, human?