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Karkat had been with the humans the longest, and it really shows at times like this. He'd only been just barely past pupation when he landed on that ranch in New Mexico about ten sweeps ago, so he'd been raised by humans instead of a lusus. He wasn't irredeemably worse for wear for it, and sometimes you were hard-pressed to even see the difference, but right now? Right now it kind of disgusts you how humanlike he's acting.
"I bet Korolev's mottled corpse is doing an enthusiastic impression of a whirling Dervish in its crypt cocoon," he says to Jade as the two of them camp out on the floor in front of the glowing cathode ray entertainment box. That, right there, is the perfect example of what you mean.
"I fail to see what spinning ascetics have to do with wriggler-level astrophysics," you mutter to yourself from where you sit, arms crossed, near the back of the laboratory break room, not that either of them are paying any attention to you. "It's almost as though you have forgotten that you have a friend in Silicon Valley who could pass the pitiful distance between here and this planet's moon on his nutrition break and still be back in time to clock in for his afternoon shift at the lab." You don't say what you want to say, which is that sometimes it seemed as though Karkat forgets he isn't human.
"That would give him away though, wouldn't it?" Jade says absently from where she sits next to Karkat. She's hunched over the arm of her prototype weapon-cum-armor-cum-aircraft postgrad research project-- a project significantly enhanced by Alternian engineering, not that anyone would ever know it. "I mean, if he just blasted off like that. People would know."
"My point is that I have no stake in this glorified bulge measuring contest between your nation and the red one, especially since they appear to be doing little more than imitating human infants stringing together some presidential tree cylinders and telling themselves that they've built a hive. And neither should Karkat."
Jade mouths "Presidential tree cylinders?" silently to herself with a confused expression that dissolves into bemusement. "Lincoln logs? Come on, I think you're being a just little unfair. You can't deny that a new species discovering the wonders of space travel isn't really fucking cool, even if the way they're getting there seems a little primitive to you. We can't all be super cool and jaded space aliens, okay?"
You can't articulate why, but that really sticks in your protein chute. Normally you enjoy the company of Jade and Karkat-- which is fortunate since they're the only people on this entire compound who aren't fucking terrified of you-- but today you feel like you're choking on the palpable nationalism in the room. Your wind bladder is far too full of Karkat's grotesque enthusiasm for the technological pissings of some backwards species, and-- okay... okay. You're definitely being unfair and you need to stop before you start hissing reflexively and accidentally make some poor postgrad soil himself. Some fresh air might do you good.
"Excuse me," you say curtly, but you don't wait for a response before exiting the room and navigating the long, dull corridors. Those, at least, are comforting. They have the same utilitarian flair as the hallways of Alternian ships like the one that brought you here when you were still pretty young, although not nearly as young as Karkat. You'd been a little over six sweeps old when you saw your first human.
The other good thing is that the sun is hotter here in the state called Nevada than many other places on this planet, so that's also slightly reminiscent of home. It isn't so bright that trolls can't go out in the daylight, but it is warm enough that if you close your eyes, you could maybe pretend for a minute that you're back at your hive, beating off droves of the undead under the searing sun.
You push out the door of the compound and wait for your eyes to adjust, your pupils thinning to barely visible slits. Much better. It's always so much easier to seethe with rage under the full spectrum of light. You keep walking, not paying much attention to where you're going in favor of just keeping your body mindlessly in motion. Maybe you could just... walk along the edge of Groom Lake for a while and simmer in your impotent rage.
Groom Lake is not a lake at all, but rather a large salt flat that is also reminiscent of the desert outside your hive back on Alternia, which is just another one of those touches of home that sometimes almost made this planet bearable. Its name, however, is a constant source of frustration to you. A lake with no water seems to fall in line with the things that mystify you the most about the human sense of humor. It's just another example of how humans will almost always say the exact opposite of what they mean-- a geographic representation of some of humanity's most reprehensible traits. Still, the dirt cakes crumble under each step of your feet with a satisfying crunch that helps relieve the tension you've been carrying in your body all day.
Maybe this is what Dave was always talking about whenever he started extolling the virtues of popping insulatory air capsules. There's definitely something to be said about injecting a little entropy into your immediate surroundings.
Time is difficult to track on this planet, and it had never been your forte anyway, but you have an excellent sense of direction and never get lost, even when wandering the vast stretches of absolutely fucking nothing out here in the desert. So, you have no idea what time it is when you make it back to the compound, but still you somehow get there exactly when you expect to. Jade is sitting on the hard-packed dirt next to the door and staring off into the distance at the sunset, her project and a few screwdrivers sitting abandoned in the dust next to her. She seems to be waiting for you.
"You have particulates in your hair," you say blandly, sliding down the hot aluminum siding to sit on her other side.
Jade snaps out of her thousand-yard stare and bats at her bangs before turning her gaze in your direction. "So do you," she says, brushing your bangs out of your face and deftly navigating around your horns. "Do you feel better, or do you think you're gonna keep being a stubborn, pissy fuckbucket for a while?"
Sometimes you have to wonder if Jade knows exactly how vulgar her language could be to a troll's ears. You know it is colorful by human standards, but still... she has to know, right? You press your lips tightly together, thankful that you're already flushed from the walk. Hopefully a bit more burning green at the tips of your ears won't garner much attention. "Oh, is that what I've been? Have I been micturating on your celebratory forced march?"
"Gross, Kanaya," she says, pulling her hand back and smiling up at you. "Do you want to talk about it? I don't want to be rude but I made Karkat promise to come get me when the action starts, so it's probably now or never." She slides her hand into your lap and rests it on your thigh, where it sits heavily and almost uncomfortably warm.
You swallow, hearing the dual clicks in your throat as your epiglottal traps clamp shut. It's not fair, you almost say. It's not fair that one of your human astronauts (and wow, what a dumb name for a thing that doesn't need a special name anyway) gets to use Alternian technology to leave the gravitational pull of this clump of rock and go out into space--which is your domain, it's where you came from-- whereas you are forcibly grounded, tethered to this subpar planet like a songbeast with clipped wings.
You've been kept a government secret, and now you're expected to cheer and applaud when that government uses your technology to take the tiniest of pissant jumps out into the endless void?
Where in the Mother are these people getting their truckloads of sopor slime, because they must to be force-feeding it to themselves it by the pail-full (you blush a little greener in your anger at how foul your internal monologue has become) if they expect you to be thankful that they're putting the artifacts they've stolen from you to such good use, and She knows you could use a good day's sleep.
But how do you even begin to say any of that to Jade? You don't want to seem like you're blaming her for her species' plentiful faults or as though you're ungrateful for her companionship. Among... other things, maybe, potentially. You shift your hand out of the dirt and thread your fingers through hers, your palm covering the back of her hand. Yours dwarfs hers significantly, and she has to spread her fingers wide to make enough space. This prompts you wonder where else she might be willing to make space for you, especially later tonight after coming off a once in a lifetime technology high.
You let out a controlled breath, willing your vascular pump to slow down. "Perhaps we can discuss it later. I don't want to ruin your day of sanctimonious nationalism and the celebration of man's triumph over the natural elements through the liberal use of dubiously acquired alien technology any more than I already have." You try to make it sound sincere, and Jade furrows her eyebrows for a moment but seems willing to let it slide, for now.
She also lets her hand slide under your own and further into your lap, her fingers curling to follow the curve inside your thigh. "Yes, I agree. That would be really shitty of you. You know what's silly? I've been this big dumb wad of nerves all day long. I guess it's the anticipation or something but I just can't seem to keep my hands still. Isn't that weird?"
This time you hold your breath and keep yourself as still as possible. It's unsettling how quickly your anger seems to drain away as her fingers creep closer to previously unexplored territory. Yeah, that's odd alright. "That does sound exceedingly silly. I would venture a guess that your anticipation is only going to build."
She pulls her hand away, as suddenly as it had appeared, and shrugs lightly. "I dunno. I guess we'll find out, won't we?" You're left a little disoriented from the sudden absence of the warmth of her palm, and it feels as though someone has given a nice firm tug on an invisible string connected to your guts. Don't humans have a phrase for that? Something about pulling the decorative podal comfort plane out from under you?
You run a quick inventory of your viscera and collect yourself, somehow finding the strength to stand when she does the same and offers you a hand. "Is it really that imperative that we rejoin Karkat so soon?" you ask, some frustration slipping back into your voice.
"Yeah. Well... humankind is about to take its first steps into the wide universe of celestial bodies, starting with what's right next to us, and if you think I'm going to miss that to sit out here in the dust with you, you're sorely mistaken, okay? Come on." She slings the robotic arm over her shoulder and pockets the screwdrivers before reaching out and taking your hand, stretching her fingers wide to interlace them warmly with your own.
Her knuckles are so small, it feels like you could crush them just by flexing your fingers. You smile to yourself behind her back, allowing her to drag you back into the dark, dull hallways of the laboratory, For now, you let yourself be content with feeling her taking up space next to you and letting your own anticipation grow.