Dave is, by all accounts, just flipping through shows until Dirk leaves. Otherwise he's going to head to bed and maybe text Karkat about anything other than Dirk being there. Oh. Or not. He's just heard he's supposed to get off his ass. Dirk doesn't know his way around the city and so Dave knows they'll get "there" when they get "there" because "there" doesn't exist yet.

Getting up, Dave takes his sword from in front of the doorway and hoists it over his shoulder. His intentions on getting his sylladex back from home are priority. He hates hauling this thing around but he doesn't doubt him and Dirk are going to end up tussling one day and he won't be without it. There's no excuse for not catching a blade, but if you catch it wrong your hand stings for days. You know, because of the deep cuts.

"My ass or the classpect powers?" he's not letting Dirk get away with that one as he walks out the door first, waiting on Dirk to follow. This is the precarious dance that he and his guardian did for thirteen years with each year getting more and more violent and less damns given.