The Twenty-First Day of Dark: 3:00 PM: LOG 0023

Rose's property is larger than Dave's, and she seems to be in a remote enough part of Skaia to have considerable free reign over it. She's landscaped some of it, and created a small island of flowering bushes and elegantly curving trees. Right now, it's covered in light grey artificial snow.

You've come here to be alone. To think about things.

For one thing, it seems to get harder to bring yourself to even think about killing Dave with every passing day. He's sung your praises to Rose, convinced her you're a trustworthy person, and admitted secrets (albeit while drunk) to you. He genuinely trusts you, and you have to admit that you can't just shrug that off. You can't help but recall what it felt like to be turned in by Eridan on your home planet, the act that made you flee. You'd helped the bastard, and he just submitted you to be culled.

Perhaps Kanaya was right. Maybe you were never cut out for this.

Still, you'll be paid handsomely. You'll be set for life. But, then again, what's the point of having so much wealth when you'll most certainly be banned from yet another planet? (If not legally, you'll have to leave to avoid unofficial retaliation. There's no way you'll go unnoticed by other members of Dave's movement.

Besides, you like being around Dave. You feel oddly comfortable around someone who, in many odd ways, reminds you of yourself. He's an outcast on his planet, a bit of an oddball, and surprisingly dorky. (You say "surprisingly" because he looks like the biggest Human tool you could imagine.) He's nice, genuinely caring, and an all-around decent guy. It's definitely a break from the bastards you're used to killing, and it's not exactly a good break.

And, now, you're being dragged into the conspiracy. You've been enlisted to follow Dave on his quest to find John.

You could leave. Say nothing and flee into the safety of the massive expanse that is space. But, then, you'll be running from the king for the rest of your life. You'll also be running from guilt, probably, knowing your stupidly soft personality. Why couldn't you be more like the other trolls? Aggressive, tactful, and generally able to hold their own when faced with something like this.

You sigh. Reaching into your pocket, you withdraw a carton of cigarettes. They're a Human thing, but you've found them to be good for relieving stress. They also have no proven harmful effects on trolls. Then again, most trolls don't smoke. You light one, stick it into your mouth, and breathe in. You let it burn as you ruminate, and it eventually works itself down to a mere stub. The burning end is close to your lips, and you're forced to put it out by shoving it into the snow. You consider leaving it there, but ultimately decide against it. (Littering on someone else's property is a pretty shitty move, after all.)

"Rose said you'd be out here." The voice is softer and breathier than usual, but it's definitely Dave's.

When you turn, you find him bundled in a thick, hand-knit red sweater. Puffs of condensation rise from both his throat and his mouth, and you're torn as to whether the novelty of such a feat is disturbing or intriguing. Perhaps it's a bit of both. "What's up?" he mutters, having received no response to his first comment.

You shrug.

"Well, then, you won't mind me joining you, right?"

Again, you shrug.

He parks himself beside you. From the expression on his face—a wry, almost knowing cross between a smirk and a smile—you can picture him as some cocky bar frequenter. A man who says something, plasters a shitfaced grin onto his features, and knows he has you cornered. A man who laughs loud and without a care in the world as he pulls up a chair and straddles it like a haughty teenager.

Now that you think about it, you can see him as someone else. A younger person with radical thoughts but little incentive to act. A teenager with no sense of direction, no one to turn to, and the ever-looming danger of becoming irrelevant.

Wait. No. That was you. Not so long ago, that was you.

Still...

You clear your throat and focus your gaze on the tree directly in front of you. A Virgo snow weevil—an ugly, hairy thing with too many whiskers for its face and tiny, beady black eyes—pops briefly out of the ground before burrowing back into its subterranean home. "Were you always this way?"

"Hm?" Dave quirks his brow expressively.

"So... Interested in other people?" you clarify.

He offers a hoarse laugh. "Nah. I used to be a massive dick. Every tries-too-hard-to-be-cool stereotype in the book."

You nod. Now that he's said it, you can totally picture it. Maybe it's the shades, but he definitely has that sort of vibe to him. And, now, you're curious. "What? A big flirt with women hanging off each arm?"

"More like hyper-masculine douchebag," Dave says, shrugging. "It's a long, complicated story. I'd rather not explain it, but you'll probably find out about it over time. Enough about me, though. What emotional parasite's eating at you?"

"It's nothing," you lie. Then, after a moment of thought, you make an impulsive decision. Like every trapped asshole you've ever seen in a show or read about in a book, you spin a tale, "I just know this guy... Back on Alternia..." (You're really stretching it, but Dave will never know, right?) "He's got to do this thing, right? But the thing he has to do is real shitty—I won't bore you with the specifics. Alternia is a fucking mess. He doesn't know what to do and he asked me about it."

"I'm not a fucking shrink," Dave says, feigning offense. Nonetheless, he still gives his opinion. You have a feeling that he never really passes up an opportunity to tell someone what he thinks. "But I'd tell your friend to go with his gut. I do it all the time. It usually works out. Unless it's food. Too much food ends real badly. Trust me."

You nod slowly. If you were to follow Dave's advice, you'll be going against an entire planet's government. You'll likely end up on the shit list of many, many places, and you'll likely be banned from most reputable planets for the rest of your life. But, at the very least, you wouldn't have guilt burning a hole in you forever. Maybe Dave has a point... "Thanks."

"No problem." A lopsided smile. "Kanaya told me to tell you that she brought some Alternian slug shakes from a local street vendor. She claims they're really tasty, but I'm not about to take her up on her offer of tasting some. Not my thing, but I thought you'd be interested." With this, he passes you the Styrofoam cup from his cup holder.

You accept, take a sip, and proceed to eagerly down the entire thing before speaking again.

"Damn," you eventually exclaim, "That was good."

"i'll go tell Kanaya you died barfing your alien intestines out all over the snow in Rose's backyard," Dave says dryly.

You roll your eyes. "I'll go tell Rose you died being strangled for being a fucking smartass,"

"Crude, but an acceptable response."

Despite your professional side telling you not to, you can't help but laugh.