The Tenth Day of Dark: 5:00 AM: LOG 0006

After a few more days of Dave Strider, you can most definitely say that this will be the hardest job you've ever accepted. For the sake of your life and wallet, however, you hope it will be the hardest job you've ever completed. But, again, you can't be too certain of that. What with his stupid Human antics and his surprising amount of charisma, which you had initially believed to be a thing he didn't possess.

Now, at this ungodly hour of the morning, you find yourself staring at the Skaian moon. An ugly, fake little grey thing. You consider that you are one of billions of dots inside of a rotating, reinforced, glass-capped donut in in space, and you feel tiny. So tiny. You're like those little pests on humanoid planets, such as this one, that steals food. In fact, you can see a line of them forming to claim your amassed three days of uneaten breakfast. (Soon, it will be four days.) You want nothing more than to rip your contract to shreds, shove it into your mouth, fully digest it, and release it as steaming shit in the king's front yard. After this hypothetical act of defiance, you would then rocket yourself into space with the sheer power of your apathy, and remove yourself from all future affairs of Dave "Problematic Target" Strider.

Alas, this is mere fantasy.

Instead, you're contractually obligated to the king, and you're legally bound to serve Dave until you finish collecting information and intelligence on him and The Prospitians. As the Humans say, life's a bitch.

The Tenth Day of Dark: 10:00 AM: LOG 0007

"You need to eat up, Karkat," John chirps, his voice as puke-worthily chipper and bright as always. "Gotta work up that muscle for punching would-be-killers in the face."

"Hm," is all you can muster.

Dave, meanwhile, has something more to say. Not that this is a surprise. Dave always seems to have something to say. "I know you've been hoarding your breakfasts in your room, by the way. John might have manners, but I don't. I checked your place over." He smirks. "By the way, just throw it out if you don't eat it. They attract ants."

(Ants. That's the word you were looking for this morning.) "Got it." You eye your breakfast for today, and find that it's more appealing than usual. It's a flat but fluffy-looking pancake with some vinegar on the side. You can tell that they've dealt with trolls before, because they have the whole "troll palettes prefer bitter and sour" thing down to an art form. Uninhibited by your previous lack of appetite, you eagerly dig in. Human etiquette be damned; you shovel it in with your bare hands.

"I told you he just didn't like what you were making," Dave says, his voice dripping with cocky pride. "I've got you, Karkat."

"You only remembered my name yesterday," you mutter through a mouthful of food. "I might as well thank you, though."

A nod from Dave and a huff of mild dissatisfaction from John. You're too busy eating to really pay attention to either reaction.

The Tenth Day of Dark: 12:00 PM: LOG 0008

She looks a whole lot like Dave, albeit with a slightly more rounded build and longer hair. Her clothes are more refined, and she seems to be of a slightly higher standing than Dave, though it's not by much. The bag over her shoulder is enough to tell you that. "Oh." She eyes you over with a particular brand of attentiveness you've never before been subjected to. You feel as if she's staring into your person, digging into your soul to find any flaws. (And there are a lot of those.) "You must be the new bodyguard." She speaks with a careful attention to her words, and it's obvious to you that she doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you. "I'm Rose, Dave's cousin. He called me over for our usual poker match."

"Great, so I'll just leave you to..."

"You're the designated card holder, sir," Rose interjects. It seems as if she's smiling, but you honestly can't tell. She's as enigmatic as her cousin.

The Tenth Day of Dark: 12:30 PM: LOG 0009

This is not what you were trained to do. You were never trained in holding some blond jackass' cards while simultaneously dealing hands to the rest of the table and keeping track of damned near everything. Hell, you barely know how to play this stupid Human game.

And, of course, Dave won't let you forget that you're clueless. "Four of a kind beats two of a kind," he mutters, eyeing his cards. "I'm well aware that we're technically playing for bragging rights, but I'd love to actually get my chips."

"Ugh." (Maybe you can kill this guy after all.) You pluck three red chips from Rose's stack and drop them unceremoniously atop Dave's.

Then, you deal the next round of cards.

This continues for a while, and you get little useful information out of the ordeal. You do, however, notice a few peculiarities about Dave. He seems to be able to grab lighter items with his right hand by flexing his wrist back, a habit you've never seen another Human cultivate with such unnatural skill. He's also observant. He's outrageously observant, which means you'll have an even shittier time when it comes to killing him.

Eventually, though, the affair comes to an end, and you're damned ready to sing praises to the world about your newfound freedom. While John retreats to his room, Dave sticks around to help clean up.

"I wasn't too tough on you, was I?" To your surprise, he seems to be truly concerned. His lips are curved into a tiny frown, and the lines on his forehead are indicative of furrowed brows.

"Nah," you lie. You tend to lie a lot. "It's cool."

"Fucking awesome," Dave nods. "I'd never want to be like... I mean... I hate coming off like a hardass, y'know? You probably don't know, since I've never told you until now." He shrugs. "Anyhow, thanks for sticking around. Rose lied, though. John usually deals and does that shit. Sollux used to actually play with us. And we conned him out of oodles of sweet, sweet cash." A nostalgic smile punctuates the statement, though it quickly fades. In its stead, there's another small frown. "In retrospect, that was real shitty of us. Um..."

(He sure can talk a lot.)

"Anyhow, thanks for playing. You're a real trooper. Shit. I sound like those shitty old television shows from Ancient History." A sheepish grin denotes the end of this sentence, and it also manages to make you feel... Strange. You feel as if you want to get to know more about Dave. Not about what you're supposed to be learning—no, that would be too simple. Instead, you have the sudden urge to know more about him as a person. What was his childhood like? When he was little more than a fleshy, vaguely offputting Human-grub, what was his life like?

(Shit!)

If your mind were comprised of tiny versions of you, then many of them would be wielding pitchforks and torches and beating down the emotion-controlling sector of your brain.

You're so engrossed in these thoughts, that you barely register the fact that he's long gone. In fact, when you finally manage to drag yourself back into the real world, you find yourself alone. The dining room table is empty, and the only trace of the strange gambling game is a stray red chip, which seems to have wedged itself in a space between the concrete floor and one of the rusty walls.