Dirk can't promise things will be safe. He's restless, and paranoid, and proprietary, and he's definitely going to pull some shit. That said, he's also... You know, sticking around a little. For now. Sure, he's rattled by dying, but it's clear Dave's still rattled by him dying years later.

It does suck. It sucks that they're both like this. Not that Dirk has anything interesting to contribute. Dave's the one with three years of time. "Yeah," he confirms. "Maybe I'll go into restaurants." What. That's not porn. Surely there's a catch. That's peak irony, though. A guy that never cooked running a restaurant.

He intends to keep his promise, at least, as well as he can. This place might prove a challenge, but he's up for it. He's got to be. It'll be easy to hermit and keep his head down, right? Sure. Having Dave around will help.

Dirk finishes his apple juice and sets the box down, finally sitting back against the back of the couch. He watches Dave, really watches him, and nods. "What happened..." He pauses, for a moment viscerally unsure if he should be doing this, visibly so, which should be unsettling, then continues. "What happened to Cal?" It'd be such a normal question, in any other family. But it's almost like Dirk, who never indicated that he noticed anything wrong with that evil-ass puppet, knows that something's off.

He's always known things he shouldn't, though.