You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.

The sensible thing would be to get out of here and revert to plan "avoid everyone until we're through this bubble." You've seen how scary-violent trolls can get. On the other hand, Karkat. You've been increasingly aware of your own Karkat as a potential makeouts friend for months now, which might be just a lack of other options who aren't a) your ex, b) your sister, c) dating your sister, d) the Mayor, or e) COMPLETELY PSYCHO, but despite the poor reasoning it's still a thing. Your Karkat has seemed pretty oblivious. Evil Karkat, though....