[What the fuck is a statute of limitations. Karkat doesn't ask, but his "what human bullshit is this" frown is in full effect—or maybe half effect, but enough to be recognizable. The context likely isn't necessary (it rarely is, with Dave), but he'll... bring it up later, assuming he remembers.
For now, he's more focused on drawing what comfort he can from Dave's presence, which as before is a whole fucking lot. How the hell this human could ever have though he wouldn't cut it as a moirail is beyond him; Karkat's personal standards are warped, but he's devoured enough romantic media to recognize when someone knows what they're doing, all right? And Dave is good at this.
Karkat is fairly certain he's smiled more times in this conversation than any other, but oh look, here it is happening again as Dave spreads the blanket over the two of them and returns his hand to Karkat's hair. Is it possible to sprain face muscles, this is getting fucking ridiculous. If their conversation had been about literally anything else...
The smile drops again. Right. That.
He redirects his gaze toward their joined hands and, remembering the way Dave had touched him, runs his fingers lightly over his moirail's knuckles. It's much easier to see the tracery of blue veins underneath Dave's paler skin, and intrigued, Karkat tugs the hand closer. He will talk, he just needs a fucking distraction.]
You have to tell me, too. Even if you did ask first.
[It would have sounded sullen if Dave had asked him sooner, before he'd gotten him so completely calm. Now it's merely accepting.]
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For now, he's more focused on drawing what comfort he can from Dave's presence, which as before is a whole fucking lot. How the hell this human could ever have though he wouldn't cut it as a moirail is beyond him; Karkat's personal standards are warped, but he's devoured enough romantic media to recognize when someone knows what they're doing, all right? And Dave is good at this.
Karkat is fairly certain he's smiled more times in this conversation than any other, but oh look, here it is happening again as Dave spreads the blanket over the two of them and returns his hand to Karkat's hair. Is it possible to sprain face muscles, this is getting fucking ridiculous. If their conversation had been about literally anything else...
The smile drops again. Right. That.
He redirects his gaze toward their joined hands and, remembering the way Dave had touched him, runs his fingers lightly over his moirail's knuckles. It's much easier to see the tracery of blue veins underneath Dave's paler skin, and intrigued, Karkat tugs the hand closer. He will talk, he just needs a fucking distraction.]
You have to tell me, too. Even if you did ask first.
[It would have sounded sullen if Dave had asked him sooner, before he'd gotten him so completely calm. Now it's merely accepting.]
... I don't know where to start.