[Karkat's more grateful for the hand than ever when Dave makes that suggestion. It's impossible to hide the way he tenses regardless, not that he tries, but the moment is shorter than it could have been, his panic fading before it has enough time to take root. His bloodpusher is still racing, but he's okay, dammit. He's fine, that had been three years ago, too, so what the fuck.

He focuses on returning his breathing to normal as Dave continues, somehow resisting the urge to close the remaining gap between them and just hug him for all he's worth. This is not the fucking time, they're having a conversation and he's not going to interrupt it for something so minor. What is wrong with him?

It's no real surprise that he readily latches onto the new direction, nodding just a little and taking another slow, deep breath while he composes his thoughts. No more thinking about the meteor. Time to remember Tavros.]

His trolltag was adiosToreador. He stammered a lot, used to piss me off.

[Already it's clear that Karkat is sticking to a recitation of facts, but that's still talking, right? There's no need to delve into actual emotions.]

He was pretty close to Aradia—they were on the same FLARP team and all. A lot of our friends were into FLARP, it was kind of fucking annoying.

[There, wasn't that easy? He takes another slow breath and goes back to examining Dave's hand, setting gradually. Fine. Everything's fine.]

I didn't join in because it—because people died from it. And I'd probably get cut or something and expose my blood color. Nepeta wanted to, but Equius stopped her for the same reason. It wasn't safe.

[He turns the hand over, unfolds it carefully, and looks at the veins crisscrossing Dave's palm. They're blue, same as his as a human, and what the hell is that, anyway?]

He... had an accident. [Karkat stops, scowls.] No, it wasn't a fucking accident. Vriska did it on purpose.