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Dave pressed his finger to the doorbell.
He did it again.
He was halfway through a rendition of Never Gonna Give You Up when Karkat flung the door open.
Silence, and then—“What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Do you like it?” Dave struck a pose, showing off the outfit composed entirely of weed novelty clothing.
“Like it?” Karkat repeated. “I’m considering my sanity. Why the fuck did I agree to date you? You give me secondhand embarrassment.”
“Love you too, Karkitty.” Dave pushed past Karkat and plopped on the sofa. Karkat slammed the door and turned on his heel, stalking over to Dave.
“What possessed you to wear such a thing?” Karkat demanded, gesticulating wildly. “Did you hit your head? Are you concussed? Are you courting death by Maryam? Don’t you dare say it’s because of ir—”
“Irony,” Dave deadpanned and nodded. His weed-leaf sunglasses glimmered. “Took me a while to put it together. Figure I’ll wear it to school tonight.”
Karkat skreed.
Dave snickered.
Karkat’s roommate, Gamzee, wandered into the living room.
“Sup?” Dave asked.
“That’s a motherfuckin’ awesome outfit you got, brother,” Gamzee grinned. "Where'd you get it?"
Karkat groaned and flung his hands in the air.