Dave had been more than thrilled to hear from Terezi, excited to get out of the house and do something that felt a little more normal. After he'd regained his ability to speak, he'd gone back to work and had been swamped. Damn hipsters and their vintage records.
The arcade was familiar, a place where he'd spend countless hours since moving to the city. So much so, in fact, he had most of the games memorized and down to an art. He was in the high score chart of a good number of the machines, not that anyone would know who 'SBAHJ' was. The older machines that only allowed three letters as a name were lovingly given names like 'ASS', much to the irritation of the employees. Dave enjoyed the giggles from younger kids when the high score chart came up and "1 ASS 696969" was waiting for them. He was particularly proud of that score, it had taken a lot of practice to die at just the right moment.
The Jurassic Park game, Terezi's favourite apparently, was one he'd played ad nauseum when he'd first arrived. His preference was, of course, for swords, but a fake gun was his second love. He knew she couldn't really see how well he was doing, but he still felt the need to show off to his friend. With pinpoint accuracy, he took out every single one of the dinosaurs on the screen -- save for the ones she took down.
Not only was he good at the game, he couldn't help his running colour commentary. Giving the dinosaurs backstories and romantic interests. Telling her all about each one's daily life and their ambitions. They got more and more absurd as the game carried on and he wasn't even sure if he made sense anymore. It just came out of his mouth in an endless stream, so happy as he was to have his voice back.
"Aw shit, TZ," he said when the final boss approached. "Momma T-Rex is hungry for flesh. She's gotta pay her mortgage this month and doesn't have shit left for food, then us tasty pink morsels come along on a silver platter shaped like a Jeep. Best day of her damn life. But shit, we got these little pea shooters, those don't feel too nice. Oh well, she's gonna try. We just look too damn tasty to resist. 'Specially me, this plush rump is some fine dining..."
On he went, unaware of if anyone else was listening to his vaguely inappropriate descriptions of everything.
Dave: Own This Shit
The arcade was familiar, a place where he'd spend countless hours since moving to the city. So much so, in fact, he had most of the games memorized and down to an art. He was in the high score chart of a good number of the machines, not that anyone would know who 'SBAHJ' was. The older machines that only allowed three letters as a name were lovingly given names like 'ASS', much to the irritation of the employees. Dave enjoyed the giggles from younger kids when the high score chart came up and "1 ASS 696969" was waiting for them. He was particularly proud of that score, it had taken a lot of practice to die at just the right moment.
The Jurassic Park game, Terezi's favourite apparently, was one he'd played ad nauseum when he'd first arrived. His preference was, of course, for swords, but a fake gun was his second love. He knew she couldn't really see how well he was doing, but he still felt the need to show off to his friend. With pinpoint accuracy, he took out every single one of the dinosaurs on the screen -- save for the ones she took down.
Not only was he good at the game, he couldn't help his running colour commentary. Giving the dinosaurs backstories and romantic interests. Telling her all about each one's daily life and their ambitions. They got more and more absurd as the game carried on and he wasn't even sure if he made sense anymore. It just came out of his mouth in an endless stream, so happy as he was to have his voice back.
"Aw shit, TZ," he said when the final boss approached. "Momma T-Rex is hungry for flesh. She's gotta pay her mortgage this month and doesn't have shit left for food, then us tasty pink morsels come along on a silver platter shaped like a Jeep. Best day of her damn life. But shit, we got these little pea shooters, those don't feel too nice. Oh well, she's gonna try. We just look too damn tasty to resist. 'Specially me, this plush rump is some fine dining..."
On he went, unaware of if anyone else was listening to his vaguely inappropriate descriptions of everything.