[—That laugh, sob, laugh/sob or whatever the fuck it was really isn't reassuring. The return hug is, but the two don't balance each out enough for Karkat to want to let go. Maybe if Dave could manage a real laugh or ramble on indefinitely about what he'd found so funny(?) in the first place, he'd be more confident, but this? This shit is not cutting it.

His arms constrict further when Dave brings up sleep again because what the fuck, no, they aren't done yet, but he forces himself to relax and... okay, no, he isn't moving.]

No one said you have to play the game, Dave.

[His voice is as quiet as it gets—quieter, actually, because his face is still planted firmly against his friend's shoulder. He'll lift his head in a minute.]

Don't do it just because you don't want to ruin it for others. That's not even how games work, why should anyone care if you're not into it? If it bothers them, they're selfish assholes.

[That's... assuming Dave had meant that it's the game he doesn't want to play when he'd talked about it earlier and not some other broader metaphorical "game" that fuck, fuck, fuck, he is not letting this idiot go, forget moving, moving is stupid.]

Don't make me make a fucking time pun, Dave, I swear I'll rip out my human trachea and nail it to the wall in the shape of a middle finger just so that you register my absolute fucking contempt for your existence every time you try shutting your eyes.