[For a second, Dave thinks he must've made an irreparable miscalculation--that'd show him to take an emotional risk, even when he was so sure--but no. He blinks, because the venom in Karkat's words doesn't match at all the strength with which he's clinging to Dave, and that's not right, Dave's usually the one whose body language doesn't match what his mouth is doing.

His hands unfreeze, and he strokes them both down Karkat's shoulder blades and then holds him securely again with one arm, runs the other hand up into his hair again. He doesn't shoosh him even if he wants to; don't draw attention to it, this is the perfectly reasonable reaction of a reasonable troll and they can talk (or, much more likely, not talk) about it when Karkat's calmed down.]

Okay. We won't.

[See? No pushing, he's as good as his word.

(He doesn't think he needs to. Left to his own devices, Karkat will take a gentle poke and worry it into a shredded, gaping hole, and if that hole's in the idiot veil of self-blame that's keeping him from seeing the truth of his situation, Dave will have done his job.

Christ. Is this how Rose and Terezi feel when they wind him up with a word and let him go? Interpersonal awareness is weird, he's not sure he likes it.)

Dave stretches his neck so that Karkat can fit even more comfortably into his shoulder, rests the side of his face against Karkat's ear, keeps working his fingers through Karkat's hair.]

I'm just saying, you must be holding yourself up to some ass-whack standards if you think you're not a good moirail for me. You know I don't expect you to be some kind of towering figure of fine when we've gone through so much of the same shit, right?