SOY: Here you go, second chapter! This is also mirrored on AO3, for those who'd like to check out the rest of my HS fanfics (which are rated porn and thus can't be published here).
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Rating: Mature for themes and later content.
Warnings: Karkat and Dave's speech. Mentions of past death.
Disclaimer: I don't own HomeStuck.
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Phantom Limb
Chapter 02
Dave Strider, 22 years old, enjoyed working for Croker's Pastries.
While that was by no means the job of his life, as it wasn't even remotely connected to the things he was interested into, or the things he would love to get paid for, he honestly liked it.
He only worked there in the mornings, and mostly out of obligation, as the owner was his brother's best friend, but that didn't diminish his willingness to wake up early to get there; Jane Crocker, owner of the shop and one of the bakers, had been in trouble when one of her workers had fallen victim of a resistant, persistent flu, leaving her shop unattended, and Dave, at the time searching for a part-time job to fill up some time between lessons, had jumped on the opportunity with glee.
Part of the reason Dave had been so eager to help out, other than putting aside some money for his everyday expenses, was that he would be able to poke fun at his best friend, who had against the name Crocker quite a grudge –even though, and that was half of the irony for Dave, Jane had nothing to do with the large empire of Crocker Corp, aside for sharing the surname with the much renown baking logo.
In fact, Jane always seemed to deny, quite viciously, any correlation between herself, humble girl, and the massive, rich empire of miss Crocker, and if nothing else, Dave could admire her skills at finding ways to avoid the subject.
As it was, though, the job came at the right moment, and Dave had no hardships at inserting himself in the world of work.
His job was to serve the customers and be the cashier –thing that was easy for him, as math unravelled itself in front of him like a lover would to capable, expert hands, and Jane had instantly dropped the reins on him, as she had no qualms admitting her own skills at accountancy were abysmal.
Dave, with not many expectations for a job he'd done out of a simple whim, had found himself taken by the slow pace and the familiar, returning faces of the customers, breathing in the scents of the sweets surrounding him, a good start for his days before he had to leave for his university courses.
He wasn't one to settle down, far too vocal, too shifty to be able to find roots that could stop him, and every time he left the shop he would find himself rushing back into his hurried life, as if time had momentarily stopped for a while, enough that he could enjoy his job, before reclaiming his attention.
Dave's attraction was centred on music, on spoken words, on actions and on the way people moved, gestures and attitudes, expressions and movements; he was an avid observer of people, of the way they shifted around him, creating patterns and weaving life with every tilt and shift of their frames.
The shop, brimming with life, always welcoming new customers and selling delicious sweets, was a delicate, protected bubble that had unveiled itself to Dave's eyes, where he could meet people and watch them through the privileged position of a seller.
He didn't have to dance and move with the crowd, rushing and spinning around, high-speed, to catch all that intrigued him.
He could observe it from behind a counter, feeling time shift around him, leaving him untouched, giving him the chance to see.
Every morning, from Monday to Friday, Dave woke up early, dragging his body out of bed and into the streets, senses coming to life as he watched life unfold around him.
People cursing at each other, or smiling, muttering on the phone or calling out to someone lost in the crowd. The twitches of people waiting at the crossroads, pace hurried as they moved everywhere around him, like buzzing bees.
Lost within the crowd, Dave felt like he could feel every second ticking by as he observed and registered and wove words in his mind, mixing his particular tunes together with the noises and the colours of the city.
His special, private songs.
Then he'd step into the shop and time would still, and welcomed warmth would give him a respite, allowing him to calm down, to breathe, and observe more from a different perspective.
Dave Strider, 22, liked his current balance. Working every morning gave him the only routine of his life, and that was fine.
For everything else, rapid and instinctive decisions were how he rolled.
Sitting in his usual table in a small tea house two corners away from the pastry shop, Dave observed the troll in front of him, eyes roaming from his stubby horns, barely peeking from his hair, to his sharp features, eyes slightly larger than normal, the soft curve of his nose.
The guy looked angry, wound up and tense, like perpetually at war with the world –or maybe, Dave mused with a smirk, merely at war with the city.
Obviously, his lack of taste for good coffee was part of the problem.
Dave had no trouble shooting people down whenever they annoyed him –he was quick with words, spelling out deceiving rhymes that could confound most people, making them stumble over themselves until they were putty in his hands– but he also knew which battles to take, and which to drop.
This troll, Karkat as he'd called himself, had at first lashed out at him, grumpy and annoying, only to take everything back, even going as far as to wait for Dave outside of the pastry shop with a treat, much to his amusement.
Dave liked meeting unpredictable people, and he liked even more ones who could surprise him, as this guy had done.
Spontaneous actions, and a bit of a mystery –that was what intrigued him.
"What the fuck is this place," Karkat muttered, looking around.
The shop was spacious, bright and not at all shady, much to Karkat's surprise; he felt slightly more at ease, but he still couldn't believe a random stranger had just brought him there to drink.
"A tea house, of course," with a small shrug, Dave grasped one of the menus on the table, idly flipping through it even though he knew exactly what to get.
"Why am I here?" Karkat asked again, though he clearly wasn't expecting an answer.
Dave smiled, eyes flickering from the troll's face to the rest of the room.
"Because you need to be educated in the art of coffee, Karkat," he idly used his name, getting a small grimace as an answer, the troll wrinkling his nose at him.
It felt a bit strange, and Karkat's face, while unfamiliar, had something on him that made Dave's senses tingle. He usually didn't forget a face, unless too bland to be worth sticking in his mind, and Karkat Vantas was anything but bland.
He looked sharp, and angled and sturdy, the way he moved testified of training regime and carefully contained actions, hands that made Dave think of weapons, of his own childhood days spent sparring with his brother on the roof of his house.
Karkat had been carved through self-control and toughness. Dave could appreciate it.
Maybe the troll couldn't get what he did, stealing fleeting glances at more than just Karkat's visage, but that was, alas, something else entirely.
"Starbucks is a decent coffee," Karkat replied, though the soft growl underlining his statement was enough to uncover the lie in his words. "Well, ok, fuck," he slapped one hand on his face, groaning. "It fucking sucks, the taste probably equals that of the worst sludge I could create by mixing chalk powder with the finest mud sticking on my shoes on a rainy day".
"Now you're talking more like it is," with a nod of approval, both at the choice of words and at Karkat's admission, Dave tapped his fingers on the table, and a waitress slid towards them, smiling.
"Hey, Dave! Welcome back!"
"Yo," he lifted his hand in greeting, his lips twitching into a small grin as he looked at her.
Karkat blinked, looking up from the menu in Dave's hands to the troll waitress, noticing the curved ram horns on her head and her long black hair neatly tied behind in a ponytail, probably for health reasons due to her job.
She looked young, and had some reddish makeup on her eyes, and the wide smile was almost contagious, so much that even Karkat could feel its warmth; the symbol she wore on top of her waitress uniform was an Aries in dark red, which placed her on the low side of the hemospectrum, but still above Karkat's bright mutant red.
Her eyes moved around the room, as if searching for other customers before looking back at Dave.
"The usual?"
"You know it," he nodded. "As for my new friend Vantas here…"
Karkat, feeling slightly flustered, looked at him again, and found both the human and the waitress watching him expectantly.
"Uh…" he swallowed, "what are you expecting me to say? You were the one who brought me here in the first place to taste some 'decent coffee'!"
"Oh, so that's the special of the house, then!" with a happy smile, as if Karkat had just ordered something incredibly expensive, the waitress signed it down. "Back in a moment!"
She skipped away, still grinning and tilting her head slightly as she stepped near a table, only to disappear behind the corner, into the staff-only area of the tea shop.
"This isn't going to cost me a fortune, right? This better not be your way to spill money from my pockets, Strider," he used the guy's surname, not feeling comfortable with his name just yet, "Because I'm not sorry to say that I'm not exactly swimming in bucks".
Dave snorted into his hand. "No, chill. I'm paying. I made you come here, didn't I? It's just coffee. They make a good one, I tell you".
"Sorry if this comes out harshly, but–" Karkat stared suspiciously at him, "Who the fuck are you, dragging a perfect stranger to a tea house just to offer him coffee after he insulted you? You're one weird fuck".
With a snort, Dave shook his head. "You were right, that was harsh as fuck".
Karkat grunted, his throat echoing his words with a clicking sound, "Forgive me for hurting your sensibilities, then," he sneered.
"Apology accepted, Vantas–" then, it finally clicked in Dave's mind, and he snapped his fingers together, straightening his back. "Ah-ha!"
"What?! Wha–" Karkat looked around, taken aback by Dave's loud exclamation, but he could see nothing wrong in the empty tea room, so he returned his attention to the human.
"I remember you now!" looking quite proud of himself, Dave leaned forwards a bit, pointing one finger at the troll. "You were in the debate class last year".
Karkat relaxed slightly, the mention of college courses soothing his worry a bit for some reason.
"I don't remember seeing weird douchebags then," he answered.
A part of him felt unsettled, because the teasing insults rolled out of his tongue with ease, and Karkat shifted a bit, wondering about it. It was rare for him to feel amicable with strangers, especially in such peculiar circumstances, but there was something of this human guy that rubbed him in a certain way, almost reminding him of someone…
Dave sneered, "You were far too busy ranting your head off against Min to notice anyone around," then he shrugged, "Was amusing to watch".
"Min?"
"Meenah Peixes," Dave replied without missing a beat. "Long hair, quirky styled speech pattern, trident ready to poke at your insides…"
"Oh, shit, yeah," Karkat actually shivered, his encounters with the deranged tyrian blood far too fresh in his thinkpan. "That girl sure did like talking".
Dave looked at him, one eyebrow peeking from above his shades, keeping silent long enough that Karkat, reminding himself that he'd been just as eloquent during his debate class, had the decency to flush slightly and raise both hands in a surrender pose.
"Fact is, I was kicked out of that course," Dave admitted, shrugging. "Professor didn't like it when I started trying to get people to rap with me during debates".
Karkat snorted. "Holy fuck, I think I remember you now," eyes narrowed, Karkat leaned forwards, both hands pressed on the table. "You tried to make that poor kid on the wheelchair spout sick fires for over half an hour before someone intervened and ended his misery".
Dave rolled his eyes, although it got lost behind his shades. "Tavros n' me are best friends, what are you even saying, it wounds me".
They looked at each other, momentarily appeased with having slotted the other into the list of their acquaintances, and the waitress took that moment to slide back into the room, a tray with a two steaming cups on them.
"Here you go, apple tea," she placed the cup in front of Dave, smiling brightly when he thanked her, "and our coffee blend," she placed the other cup in front of Karkat, looking at him expectantly.
"Thank you," he stated, watching her leave again.
She paused in front of the empty table again, hand brushing against its surface, then left the room once more.
Quirky girl.
"Give it a try man, then you'll never want Starbucks in your life ever again," Dave prodded him, busy sugaring his tea and stirring it with a teaspoon.
"Apple tea," Karkat lifted both eyebrows in wonder.
"Everything apple is delicious," Dave replied, tilting the cup to his lips to take a satisfied sip. "AJ's the best, but you never go wrong with this shit here".
"Somehow I hadn't taken you for a tea drinker," Karkat mused.
He finally understood who the human reminded him of, and it made him almost smirk; Dave's attitude, his snarky words… he made Karkat think of Sollux.
He could concede it, in fact –Sollux was his best friend, and they had started their friendship with a conversation much similar to this one, bantering from one side of the computer to the other, back and forth, until it felt like they had known each other since forever.
That was why the feeling of talking with Dave felt familiar, and why Karkat, despite not knowing the ass, had felt at ease.
Sollux was going to laugh at him, that was for sure.
Absently, the troll brought the coffee to his lips, stirring it once again before taking a careful, testing sip.
The liquid was far too hot against his tongue, so he hissed and grunted, quickly letting it roll back to his throat as he swallowed, and then, lips parted to curse, he finally felt the taste, and blinked.
Oh.
The flavour was actually rather good, with a bitter aftertaste and a much stronger, spicy flare, and he licked his lips, quickly sampling the coffee again.
He looked up, startled, and his approval was probably written all over his face, because Dave was smiling knowingly at him.
"Told you so, that coffee's the bomb".
Karkat had nothing to say to that, and instead busied himself with the cup, nursing it slowly as not to finish it too quickly; sip after sip, he allowed the caffeine to rush through him, offering a much stronger stimulus than the shitty Starbucks thing.
"Holy fuck, this coffee is delicious, I don't think my mouth has ever been agreeable to caffeine but I've been totally converted to this beverage," surprised to see the cup empty, Karkat placed it down, mournfully.
"Yep," looking quite smug, Dave finished his tea before it cooled down too much, and sighed, feeling the familiar warmth linger in his stomach.
They remained sitting for a moment longer, now strangely awkward, staring at the emptied cups, then Dave stood up, shrugging lightly. "I have a lesson in half an hour," he explained, seeing Karkat shift his eyes to him. "I hope you're feeling much less annoyed with the world now that you've had decent nourishment, hmm?"
Karkat mumbled something under his breath, his throat rumbling softly, but didn't negate Dave's statement as he followed the human to the counter, deciding that he could let the guy pay for his coffee since he'd dragged him all the way to this place.
If he had to be honest with himself, Karkat felt good; it was a nice change from his usual, ritualistic tradition of going home right after his courses, and although prompted by a very weird, embarrassing situation, it was ok, just this once.
Besides, the discovery of such a quiet place where he could get some good coffee… Karkat was glad he had now another option that was not Starbucks.
He idly perused a nearby shelf, impressed by the coffee beans on display, wondering if he could get a package to bring home and learn how to make, and Dave started chitchatting with the cashier, a bulky troll with a broken horn who glanced at Karkat in vague disdain, probably put off by the fact that the symbol present on Karkat's sleeve was sewn in grey, instead of a proper colour.
Karkat, having grown up used to getting sideways glances because of his anonymity, had long since stopped caring for what other trolls thought of him, lost within the depths of the Hemospectrum with his own mutant, weird colour.
He might be a genetic mishap, but he'd fought just like them during the trials, and the reward to keep on living was his to keep, too.
The ghost of the troll, who had been sitting quietly on top of a table and had been idly listening on their banter, shifted up when the two did, preparing to follow them to the cashier, but a quiet voice made her halt.
"Do you need any help passing to the other side?"
She stopped, twisting her neck a bit, almost confused to hear the waitress talk to the empty room; when she noticed the Aries' eyes focused on her, empty red eyes widened behind her glasses.
The waitress was actually talking to her.
Fluttering inches above the ground, fingers tightening their hold on her cane's shaft, the ghost licked her lips.
"You can… see me?" she let confusion bleed into her words, but soon it was washed away by pleased surprise, a wide grin replacing her pout when the living troll nodded sharply, smiling. "Well, that's really new!"
Whereas usually her voice failed to become a sound living beings could hear, this time it seemed to travel without scattering into nothingness, and the waitress actually heard her.
With a laugh the ghost troll, for a moment abandoning her devoted stalking of Karkat, launched herself through the air, pirouetting and approaching the quiet Aries, who tilted her head to the side, brushing hair away from her face.
Her eyes followed the spirit's every move, almost as if to reassure her that yes, she could see her.
"No, I don't," the ghost finally replied, tilting her body forwards until she was inches away from the waitress, who didn't move away. "I didn't think someone could see me".
"It is not common, I know!" the waitress' smile was blinding, and it received a similar wide smile back from the ghost. "I suspected you didn't need help, but I always feel like I'm supposed to ask that".
A cackle was her only answer, the ghost pulling away and tapping the cane in the air, mimicking standing on the ground.
"You a psychic?" she asked, curious and still leering.
"Not quite. The right word is psychopomp!" still smiling, the waitress started cleaning the table where Karkat and Dave had been sitting. "It's a gift I had since I was a child. I try to help the spirits of the deceased into their next life, when I see them. You seemed to be quite attached to that boy, but you don't feel ill spirited, or angered".
Sitting in mid-air, legs neatly folded underneath her body, the ghost placed her cane to the side, not letting go of it as its shape started blurring, slowly disappearing from sight, until it was gone, lost within the folds of the ghost's incorporeal reality.
"I am not, that wouldn't be fair," she replied, and a soft breeze rattled a nearby shelf, making the glasses on it tingle.
"I suppose," with an amused smile, the waitress straightened up, glancing at the troll and the human at the counter. "You didn't tell me your name, wayward ghost!"
"Terezi," was the soft reply, slightly hesitant as she spoke her name, almost as if fearing that a mention would make her disappear.
"Terezi, well, if you're trying to obtain something in particular in this life before leaving, then maybe you wouldn't mind having someone to talk with, right?"
With such a contagious smile, even the harsh, vicious smirk of the ghost, Terezi, had no choice but to turn softer.
"You're welcome whenever you pass by this tea shop, at least so I know you're still keeping yourself on this side of the veil," the rustblood continued, motioning for the ghost to follow her. "It is always nice to talk with a new face, dead or alive as it might".
The grin was back on Terezi's face, although the moment Karkat moved away from the counter to get to the door her attention was back on him, fluttering his way, unmindful of the potted plant she had to pass through.
"I might take you up on that offer, miss bright smile!" she stated, words wavering slightly as she moved away. "You smell like cherries, and I like that".
With a small smile, the waitress hummed to herself and returned to her cleaning, the bells on the door chiming as the customers left the tea house.
She knew she would see her again, that was a certainty.
…–…–…
"Catch you around, man," with a curt nod, looking by all means satisfied, Dave started walking towards the university campus.
Karkat watched him go away, lips set in a thin line, and when the human turned around –just once, lifting one hand to say goodbye– he looked away quickly.
He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved to be finally away from the odd human known as Dave Strider, but now alone in front of the tea house, Karkat found himself at loss, a slight uneasiness washing over him.
He didn't know why he felt disappointed –he'd barely met the guy, they wouldn't be sparkling any friendship whatsoever over the course of a couple hours, but that had been a particularly odd circumstance.
Suddenly, the idea of going back home felt almost unappealing, the thought of curling on his pile, with popcorn and a movie not as decent as it had been earlier in the morning, and it perturbed him.
Karkat grunted and tightened his hands into fists, briskly removing himself from the premises of the tea house and stomping down the street.
Around him the crowd had thinned, as it was almost midday –time surely did fly fast, he hadn't even realised he had been around for so long– and Karkat had a much easier time finding a seat on the bus home.
Sitting there, curled up on the seat with his head pressed against the window pane, its cool surface feeling nice against his skin, Karkat refused systematically to let his thoughts wander to his meeting with Dave.
At his side, the ghost eyed curiously the crowd before returning her attention to Karkat, throat vibrating softly in a low purr. In the time she had been at his side like this, she had never had as much fun as today, and she hadn't even been able to interact with people before.
And now, the rustblood waitress.
Terezi glanced at Karkat, eyes sharpening instantly and smirk losing its edge, growing softer and quieter.
She disliked seeing him like that, and she disliked seeing how his life had turned into a boring, secluded routine. The change had been nice, even if it was short lived.
There had been hope –hope in the form of blond hair and a pair of oversized shades– but it didn't feel much like hope now, not when the human Dave had failed to stay around.
It was sort of disappointing, in a way that made the spirit shift uneasily, the cane now replaced in her arms by a strange-looking yellow doll shaped like a dragon.
With a soft sigh, Terezi followed Karkat home, watching his hunched shoulders and wondering if he would ever feel her sadness flicker through the veil that separated them.
…–…–…
Although not having to be present for the classes of Professor Lodge, as the man was sick, Karkat still had to go to campus for his other courses, and thus, he ended up passing in front of the pastry shop at least twice a day.
The first few times, late due to traffic and his bus having had to slow down due to that, he rushed past the windows without stopping, merely sniffing the delicious smell of freshly baked goods before hurrying off.
Returning home, his thoughts focused on getting some solid food in his stomach, he even forgot about the shop, remembering only when he was on the bus home, far too late to do more than just glance out of the window and chastise himself afterwards, almost embarrassed.
The third time, a Thursday afternoon, he had enough time to stop by, wanting to enter and buy something, but one look at the cashier made him rethink his plans –it wasn't Dave.
Slightly upset, but not willing to allow himself to be stupid simply because the weird guy wasn't around, Karkat stomped off and arrived earlier than usual to his class, which should have been positive if he hadn't been in a sour mood anyway.
Returning home, he cursed his own idiocy and stopped by the pastry shop to buy that one sweet he'd wanted to try since the first day and munched on it while waiting for his bus, standing awkwardly at the stop, surrounded by teenagers and women with loud kids, trying not to spray crumbles all over himself.
Friday morning saw him waking up earlier than usual; due to a minor strike of the bus services, he would have to take the subway instead, which he severely disliked. There were a lot of weirdoes drinking too early in the fucking morning, and they were creepy as fuck.
Subway also meant he would not be able to pass by the pastry shop, which he decided was a good idea; he wouldn't want to stick around and seem like a loon to everybody's eyes.
That didn't make it any better when, out of the subway and thirty minutes early, he promptly turned around and walked two blocks back to get to the patisserie.
He felt silly, wanting to try and talk with the human more, but he'd clicked with him in a way he hadn't with anybody since Sollux, and that made him feel almost hopeful.
Sollux had moved to a communal hive on the other side of the city, working on his complicated coding for some agency or another, and when he got into those frenzies of his, Karkat had no hope to even see him aside from a spare, curt conversation over Trollian.
He sort of… dare he say it, missed the idiot. Then again, Karkat hadn't been much of a decent company for a while already, all because…
With a wince, Karkat stopped in front of the pastry shop.
The fragrant smell suddenly felt sour, and any kind of appetite had disappeared altogether at the thoughts he refused to let himself linger on.
Wrinkling his forehead, Karkat turned around and made to leave, but his eyes fell, against his better judgement, on the window, and between rows of pastries and cheerful confections of sweets, he saw Dave looking at him.
When he realised Karkat had noticed him, Dave lifted one two fingers in a salute, and Karkat, almost spluttering, waved back.
Oh. So the guy actually remembered him…
Dave motioned for the pastries, and Karkat, frantically shook his head, showing his wristwatch for good measure, trying to make Dave understand that he didn't quite have the time –not when he'd just walked for fifteen more minutes just to get there.
And thus not having any time left to actually get inside and buy a sweet.
Or talk.
Karkat cursed at himself, his idiocy, his absurd hopelessness and his rotting thinkpan, and with another curt, clipped wave, he turned around and ran towards campus.
He got there, once again, barely on time.
Saturday and Sunday, Karkat remained home.
He trolled Sollux, somewhat satisfied when the hacker managed to keep his attention away from coding enough to have a decent, almost coherent conversation with him.
They settled on an easy banter, throwing jokes and one-liners at each other for a while, and when he logged off, Karkat actually felt satisfied.
His talk with Sollux, though, cemented in him the realisation that Dave, although verbose and silver tongued, wasn't exactly like Sollux, and that left Karkat wondering who else, among the people he knew, made Dave feel so familiar.
Without a solution at hand, Karkat buried himself in blankets, curled up in his pile, and watched romcoms for the whole Sunday, ordering Troll Chinese takeaway because he didn't quite feel up to cooking.
Monday morning, Karkat decided to check the university website, just in case, and soon enough his hive echoed with curses and loud invectives dedicated to dear Professor Lodge, who had suddenly decided to announce his return on the main webpage… the same morning he'd have to have class.
Karkat had never hated Mondays more than he did in that moment.
Rushing out of his hive without even a cup of coffee to wake him up, Karkat managed to take the bus as it was leaving, though there were no places to sit anymore.
Just his recursive 'luck', obviously.
Karkat truly hated Mondays.
When he hurried down the street, uncaring whether he hit anybody, storming through crowded sidewalks and ignoring the curses sent his way –he was a walking bomb, no more a troll but simply a ticking mechanism set on explosion-upon-contact– he wouldn't have spared a glance to the pastry shop if a voice hadn't called him over, making him halt mid-stride.
"Oi, Karkat!"
Stuttering into a stop, Karkat's head whipped to the side, taking in the sight of Dave, dressed in the familiar uniform, offering him a small paper bag.
"I… you… what?"
"Ain't going to be letting you pass by without nourishment," Dave smirked, nudging his shoulder with the paper bag until Karkat relented and grabbed hold of it. "It's on the house," the human added when the troll hesitated, unsure what to do.
"No, fuck, I can't–"
"Shut your trap, I won't end up in the streets just because I decided to be less of a stingy asshole. It's not made of gold man, so just accept it and taste your paradise. You can call it advertising, if you see Shangri La during class more people might want to buy. Just saying".
Karkat didn't know what to say to that, and simply stared at Dave with wide eyes until the human waved at him, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"I was under the impression that you were running late…?"
With a loud clicking and chirruping, Karkat hurriedly thanked Dave, sprinting towards campus with the bag clutched to his chest.
Dave's eyes lingered on him until he turned the corner, disappearing from sight, then glanced to the side, hummed, and with a smirk returned inside the pastry shop.
Terezi, steady presence with her cane twirling in her fingers, snorted in amusement. For a moment she hesitated, looking at the window of the patisserie. She had tasted something in the air surrounding the human guy, a tangerine curiosity, but the scents were always so bland now that she was dead.
They never seemed to feel right anymore, so she let it go.
With a snicker, she followed Karkat's path, floating unhurriedly above the heads of the passers-by.