==> Go to Dave’s House
It is quite obviously a young man’s house, and you decide that you can forgive it that transgression until this whole… ordeal… is over. Ordeal. That makes you think this is some grand cosmic test, that angels above are staring with unchanging eyes, scrutinizing every actions. Do you aid the murderer? Do you abandon your friend?
It is a blessing that you have never really had faith in anything.
“Does anyone else know…?”
You nod a little, sipping at the cherry ICEE. “Dave. Karkat. That’s it.” Sighing, you flop down on the couch and invite Honeytongue up. He hops up and you pet him, scratching behind his ears absentmindedly. “I don’t think anyone saw, though. But… I’m not sure.” You shrug a little and gulp down the red, and it’s still kind of dull to you. You’re not sure what else there is to say. “We burned my clothes I had on before.”
You say, “Good,” and you have to ask yourself if it’s easier to just pretend they were ugly, not covered in blood or microscopic evidence. The image of Teresa in all polyester is simultaneously more and less agreeable than her with her hands smeared in blood. The two images combined in her mind, and Kanya quickly had to think of something else.
“…Why…Why did… you?”
You shrug, knowing that she’s uncomfortable. You aren’t sure how you know, but you do. You can feel it, hear it in her words, see it in her mind and her colour. She’s uneasy and the thought of you killing someone is foreign to her and you know all of that somehow.
Giving a brief shake of your head to chase those thoughts away, you pull Honeytongue closer to you and sigh. “They were bloody. Can’t throw them out, though. They’ll have my DNA on them, plus blood. No good. Can’t have that.”
