There's no way Karkat's going back to sleep, and there's a sullen part of him that thinks misery loves company, so why the hell not keep this asshole awake, too. Trolls - at least, the ones that grew up on Alternia - aren't too great at recognizing they're lonely.

Or, apparently, not defaulting to a transactional, suspicious relationship with strangers.

Karkat clicks his tongue against the back of his sharp teeth, having decided that he's probably got something of value filling up his sylladex. Sweeps worth of junk has been captchalogued and he's never really bothered to empty it out lately. He unfolds himself enough to push a hand into a pocket of his gray jeans, "Fucking typical. Yeah, sure I got something in here-"

In his palm rests a gray square, roughly about the apparent size of a deck of cards, if the cards were a bit wider than your usual playing cards. A thumb twitches across it and five white squares slide out to the right. The troll's jaundiced-looking eyes go wide.

He swipes again, but the next five squares to slide out and replace the first series are also the same, blank white.

"What, no. No. No, no, no!"

He flicks his thumb over it again and the deck seems to cycle over to a different one. The Strife deck, too?! "How the hell could this happen?!"