[Congratulations, Karkat: you now have a seasoned soldier and secret terrorist directly responsible for the deaths of a fifth of humanity cowering and backed up against a produce stand. Bertolt swallows, feeling a trickle of sweat roll down his face, and it takes him a moment and some throat-clearing before he can answer.]
I'm sorry, I don't know what you want.
[Just go away, holy goddesses of the wall, just go away.]
no subject
I'm sorry, I don't know what you want.
[Just go away, holy goddesses of the wall, just go away.]