Kanaya Maryam is quite possibly the most goddamned gorgeous troll you've ever seen in your life. Her features are in perfect proportion, her hair immaculately styled, and her eyes a vivid, perfect shade of jade. Add to that her jade lipstick, and you have a fashion-forward troll, too. She's taken, though, as you'd expect. What you wouldn't expect is that she's dating Rose goddamned Lalonde, who, you later found out, you were talking to in the chat.

Since that chat, Dave has managed to concoct a plan for you to hang out with his group of friends. Knowing fully and—as he admitted in a chat—being in full agreement with you that Kanaya is the most aesthetically pleasing troll to exist, he's sent her as your "friend" to meet with.

Kankri and Cronus allowed you to leave with her.

In the car, she handed over a signed copy of the currently unpublished Wizards in Heat III: The Hardest Wand is in Your Pocket, complete with the page stating that it's a draft publication given you by the author. After nearly dying of a heart attack, you stashed your treasure away in your bookbag. Then, you engaged Kanaya in some casual chitchat.

She dropped you off at the mall, where you're to meet Dave, before departing to go on a date with Rose.

The arcade is located in the center of a bustling mall, spans two levels, and is filled to the brim games you didn't even know existed. An entire section is dedicated to Japanese games, and most of them are (predictably) in Japanese. There are also vintage video game machines and a few display-only antique setups. One such rig seems to be a punching game, wherein a light-based scale would move higher the harder you punched a whoopee cushion-shaped bag in its stupid, smiling face.

Along the back walls of both floors, which you've been forced to explore to try and findDave, are massive prize booths. The rewards range from the run-of-the-mill shit—stuffed toys, erasers, consumable goods, and even some troll candies (Gummy Grubs, Somefin Sweets, and Candied Skuttlebeasts)—occupy one half. Then, on the other half, there are prizes that are absolutely outrageous. For an absolutely absurd amount of tickets, you could legitimately win an iPhone, iPad, or even a voucher for the installation of a pool in your backyard. Considering the price for the last one, though, you think it's a joke. (No one could ever feasibly get ten trillion tickets, could they?)

Almost half of the second floor is straight pinball machines. There are more than you ever imagined there could be in the whole world, and each is different. Some of them are even locked in display settings, and the glass features plaques for each. One such machine is a Mario-themed game, which is noted to be amongst some of the rarest.

The place is absolutely packed, and it makes you realize just how big Newhaven is. You didn't even know this many people lived in the city. Then again, you live and work in the less hectic historical district.

Aside from the crowd, it's also loud. You can't even hear yourself think, much less work up enough focus to find Dave.

Perhaps the fact that he lacks that distraction is why he's able to find you long before you can even put together a plan to find him. Having learned his lesson at the othermall (across town, in the shopping-focused part of the city), he approaches you from the front. A massive, admittedly cute smile is spread across his face.

"I tried staying in one place and waiting, but you never showed. I figured I might as well walk around and try to find you."Having said this, he offers you an apologetic smile. At the end, he adds a sign that's becoming increasingly familiar, a code word of sorts, between the two of you. "Sorry."

You, having spent the past few days brushing up on your sign language (literally, too, since you had to dust off your old notes), respond the same way. "Is it always this busy?"

"Yeah. I thought it would be easier to hide us being together if there's a massive crowd."He shrugs. "John's here, too. He's not too big on arcades, but he's agreed to hold my favorite machine for us."

In the back of your mind, you wonder what it would be like to know that the "us" in his statement was a romantic sort of phrasing. This thought prompts a warm, fuzzy feeling. Clearly, you would like it, even if you wouldn't admit it to Dave's face.

Out of a mixture that's one half wanting to have a chance to take a jab at Dave, and the other half being a genuine interest, your next statement is signed with furrowed brows and slightly parted lips. Alongside other nonmanual markers, this indicates a question rather than a statement. "What game is it that manages to make Dave Strider's esteemed list?"

Dave responds with a few swift motions, and you're guessing that it's a sort of shorthand that he uses with his friends. You, however, don't understand it; he notices quickly. He amends his response, offering an exact signed English translation of the title. "House of the Dead 4."

"I should have figured,"you roll your eyes, "It's an F-P-S."For the sake of speed, you abbreviate, spelling out the final word in your statement. You're unsure of whether this is correct.

Dave understands, though, so you let the issue go. He nods, the pulls a sealed bag of earplugs from his pocket. "You might want these."

Having put up with the cacophony of the inside of this increasingly sweat-scented arcade, you eagerly snatch the earbuds away from Dave. With the politeness of Oliver Twist eating a bowl of porridge, you rip the packet open and put both in. It doesn't completely block the noise, but it lessens it to the point that you can finally think clearly.

And, with this newfound lucidity, you wonder how much of your previous signing was grammatically correct. Then again, upon further thought, you realize that you don't really care. You're just happy to have some time with Dave. Aside from that, he understood what you meant.

The two of you elbow your way through the fray, eventually ending up in front of the game. It's huge, features a singular widescreen television, and a mount featuring two Uzi-shaped controllers. Next to this is a much larger version with an actual cockpit-like setup. It's roped off, though, and a sign mounted on either side notes that this is the special edition, and that it is currently being repaired.

"What's so special about the special edition?"You ask.

Dave begins to answer, only to get distracted with the task of trying to find some spare change.

John takes over. Though he's wearing earplugs, he still speaks. His voice is powerful enough to carry itself through the crowd and to you. "It's like a giant rumble controller. It shoots air and vibrates and has multiple screens." At this point, his face contorts into an expression of horror, as if he's reliving some awful memory. "Dave made me play with him once. It was terrifying, and I hated it."

At this, as if he knew this was coming, Dave sets aside his wallet. While one-handed signing is possible, it seems as if he wants to use both hands to make a point. "It wasn't that bad!"He laughs, this time using that loud, hearty sort that's starting to shift from being an annoyance to an endearing trait. He knows how loud he's being—that much you've figured out—he just doesn't care. "It doesn't matter. I've got change."

Without waiting for your input, Dave jams the coins into the slot with one hand, and presses start with the other. He pulls the Uzi on his side from its holster, then stares at you. "What're you waiting for? Pick up the goddamned plastic Uzi," he seems to say, without saying it.

You do. It's vaguely sticky. This disturbs you deeply. Nonetheless, you continue. At the very least, it will appease Dave. Still...

"Any reason whyI'm doing this?" you ask, looking to John.

He responds with a shrug and a cocky grin. "He likes beating people. The only person he hasn't beaten in this is me."

"Like you could play this to save your dorky ass," you scoff, trying (and failing) to shoot the zombie-corpse hybrid on your screen.

Around the same time that Dave decides you're taking too long, and shoots the monster for you, John rebuffs. "I'm actually amazing at this game, thank you very much."

You, deciding to focus on at least trying to beat Dave, ignore this. You invest all of your energy into shooting the strange, distorted humanoids (and, sometimes, non-humanoids) on your side of the screen. Unfortunately for you, these efforts fail miserably.

At the end of each round, which you're certain you only complete due to Dave's help, the scores are always the same. You're somewhere in what you're guessing would be considered unborn-child-tier. (You're actually confident that an unfertilized human egg—just the egg—could score higher than you.) In fact, as you reach the thirty-minute mark, you haven't managed to kill a single thing by yourself.

You also notice that John has been scrutinizing your playing abilities the entire time. In fact, he's been whispering tips in your ear. "Point the gun off-screen to reload," was the most popular suggestion. Yet, even when you did this, you failed to be able to consistently aim at any worthwhile part of the zombie. Not that it matters. You think a single clip of bullets to the chest would be enough to kill something, and you can at leastmanage that.

Nonetheless, after another half hour of this—as the credits roll, and Dave sets down his fake plastic Uzi—you feel compelled to ask. "Did you play this just so you could kick my ass?"You huff, sticking your bottom lip out, into a pronounced pout. "I am genuinely hurt."

Dave responds with another of his hearty laughs. "Damn! You suck!"He elbows you in the side. "John! We found someone worse at this than Jane!"With this said, he pats you on the shoulder, then ruffles your hair. "I know you're not upset. But, if you are, it's okay to cry."

In response to this, John simply rolls his eyes.

You let forth an indignant grunt. "I will have you know,"you sign, smirking slightly to show that you're not being serious, "That I have only cried twice today after losing to the biggest tool on this planet."

Dave, meanwhile, collects the absurd amount of tickets, which spew from the machine and onto the floor.

You're honestly not sure how many there are. One hundred has long since passed.

Two hundred is gone.

After a solid minute of semi-rigid paper spewing, you're forced to give up. You estimate that there's a good two-hundred tickets. This surprises you, as you never knew that House of the Deadgames even dispensed tickets. As it stands, you were just too bad to ever receive any. Not that you'll let that stop you.

He might be better at video games, but there's something you knowyou can beat him at. You tap him on the shoulder, distracting him from what has turned to a fit of snorts and wheezes of amuse. (You act like you're hurt, but you're pretty damned bemused at how much you suck, too.) "S-K-E-E ball?"When you sign this, you simply spell out the first half. You're certain there's a real sign for it, but you don't know what it is.

Dave, as usual, doesn't mind. (You get the feeling that he's content with just having someone meeting him halfway when it comes to communication.) "Sure." He turns to John, adding, "You're invited, too, doofus."

Naturally, John follows. He jogs to catch up with Dave, who's already a good two yards ahead. As he reaches him, he begins to sign. You notice that, like you, he's not as expressive. Considering how he speaks, that seems odd. Then again, it's a different language. "I'm going to kick your ass."

Dave huffs. He rolls his eyes, punches John on the shoulder, and makes a loud, proud declaration of some sort. It's not a word, merely an expression of how confident the blond is that he'll beat his cocky, bespectacled friend.

You, right now, are content to watch. Clearly, the two are good friends.

At some point, you'd like to be as close to Dave as John is.

"Karkat!" The R's are still a bit off, but your name is clearly recognizable. Dave's voice, as usual, rises above the discord of the crowd. He's turned his back to the crowd and, to the credit of his and John's relationship, they've got some great teamwork. John's back is to Dave's, and he clears a path for them to walk through as Dave signs to you. "You ready to get your ass kicked like Shinji Ikari?"He spells the name, then waggles his eyebrows.

Today, you have learned that your prospective future boyfriend is not only a dork, but a massivedork. "I'm sorry, I don't watch bullshit. What's a Shinji?"

"I know you've seen it. John told me."Dave offers a confident grin at the end of his statement.

You shoot John a glare.

Aloud, possibly to avoid Dave knowing what's being said, John responds. Though he doesn't refute his claim, he says something that doesn't exactly surprise you. "I have $200 on you and Dave dating. I might as well give him advice."

"Fair enough," you, too, say this aloud.

While it's an incredibly rude thing to do, Dave hasn't noticed. He's turned back around, and he's walking at John's side.

And, a few seconds after this exchange ends, you reach your destination.

"Ah-ha!" Dave yells, grabbing the attention of his intended audience (and some unintended onlookers). Then, when both you and John are looking at him, he begins to sign. "Rules!"He holds up four fingers, indicating that there will be four things on this list. He points to his index finger. "First: We all start at the same time."He points to his middle finger, and shifts his shoulders slightly. "Second: We all put in the same amount of credits."He points to his ring finger, once again shifting his shoulders. "Third: When you're done, you're done. Don't put in any more credits."Finally, he points to his little finger. "Fourth: Don't cry too much when I win. I didn't ask to be so amazing, I was just made that way."

You can't help but laugh at this final rule, and John joins in.

The laughter dies down, however, as you all put in enough money for sixteen shots. When Dave kicks his machine, you all begin. You, admittedly, only start because his action startled you into pressing the button.

John is absolutely awful at this.

Dave does okay.

You, as you predicted, excel. By the end of thisgame, it's you who's laughing. "Suck on that, Dave goddamned Strider!"you proclaim, posing like some sort of overly dramatic cartoon villain. "I kickedyour ass!"

With a small smile, Dave simply shrugs. "We all make mistakes. And I'm still better at the best game here."

"Dance Dance Revolution is the best game here,"John interjects.

Dave responds with an indignant huff. "Yeah, but it's a little harder to play when you can't hear the music."

"You can see the arrows,"retorts John.

"The arrows can't handle my sick moves,"shoots back Dave.

You, in total awe of this situation, simply laugh. Before you forget, you collect your tickets. The stack is close in size to Dave's, but you know he still has more.

As this happens, you realize something.

You haven't been this happy since you moved here. For two years, you've been doing little more than trudging through every day, then finding comfort in sleep. Now, you find yourself dreading when you go to bed. After all, you could miss something.

A whistle brings you out of this introspection. You look up, towards Dave. "Take out the earplugs and jump in the car, loser. We're getting some pizza."

You, doing as told, remove your earplugs as follow both Dave and John out of the arcade and into the cafeteria.

"There's a Pizza Hut kiosk. We'll get something there, eat, then get more tickets. I'm buying out this whole establishment,"Dave grins as he signs this.

And, honestly, you can't help but smile back.

At the end of the day, all three of you end up with enough combined tickets to buy the amazing prize of a voucher to get five large pizzas from Pizzapalooza. Instead, each of you takes their own share and invests it in something else.

John buys fifteen whoopee cushions, once again proving that he's a child masquerading as an adult.

You buy a pair of ugly sunglasses. They look exactly like Dave's old ones, except they have white rims and black arms. You give these to him, and he thanks you by calling them a "hollow shell of his amazing old shades."

And, finally, he buys the ugliest plush crab you've ever seen. Its face is kind of cute, but the rest of it is lopsided and strange. Nonetheless, it's incredibly soft. It's also pretty big. He presents it to you, claiming that it reminds him of your "shitty-ass but kinda sweet personality."