[There it is, that brightening-without-smiling, and Dave just bounces forward and takes Karkat's hand with his warm, tiny fingers--

(oh god Karkat why fuck those fingers were in his mouth Karkat no oh well too late)

--like they belong there, like this is right. This time it's Wart's relief that ripples through the air, though Valentine's wings flutter with something, too. Karkat's got this, they don't have to be in charge of their miniaturized trainer anymore.

Dave swings their arms a little, though the angle's kind of weird when he's this small.]

Dumb. Those isn't presents, I like giving coffee to Katkat.

[Because, obviously, presents are part of the long game of ironic one-upmanship, for which birthdays are naught but the yearly Olympics of weaponized sentimentality. Tugging Karkat along, Dave hop-toddles back towards the road, used to matching the gait of someone with much longer legs than either of them.

Up goes the Pokéball.]

I caughted a bird. Did you see? It was in the tree but it doesn't fly.