He nods along, agreeing to the sign. This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with an abundance of plants blotting out the sun. The least they could do is put up warning signs, and test that they're reasonably accessible.

"Flesh is so prickable, huh...? I don't envy it." Papyrus considers one of his own hands, currently gloved for the sake of not getting dirt in his joints. "But, even bone can get pricked, if the thorns are strong enough. I'll keep some thick gardening gloves on me."