[A corner of Dave's lips quirks up slightly, and bam, his hand is back on Karkat's face, papping with practiced ease, though this time much less assholey than before. He even throws in a couple shooshes for optimal Karkat taming.]

I know this blows a donkey's dick, Karkat, but nothing we can't handle. So far it doesn't look like we have to gather a literal shitton of useless grist or deal with mindless animal consorts trying to cook us in a giant cartoon kettle because they were so stupid at playing their own stock market that even a 13 year old could fuck them over like a goddamned wolf of wall street, junior, so there's that.

[As he talks, he stops the calming action and moves his hand, fingertips brushing along the ridge of Karkat's brow to move hair from his eyes, a less than moirail gesture but definitely, definitel no other meaning behind it. Karkat's hair was just being too messy after their tussle!]

And at least we aren't alone.