Pyrope's Place: Dave Strider (Short Story)

Chapter 2 - Karkat the Prima Ballerina

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Author's note: I post a new chapter everyday. Like anybody reads this shit.
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"Hm. This oughta be the place." Dave murmured to himself, tucking his little business card into his jean pocket. He looked up and saw a rickety old hotel with a rusted sign dotted with a mix of flickering and broken LED lights that spelled out "Pyrope's Place".

Dave sighed. Well, at least he would only be here a week or two. Bro hadn't elaborated on that, but Dave was just happy to be able to go back there soon.
He pushed the big wooden doors open and turned around to lug his huge suitcases in. He looked around the lobby and holy shit was it red. There were red carpets, red wallpaper (with green polka dots), red sofas, you name it, in here it was red. Bright, eye-burning, stomach-turning red.
The Robert Fulton of red.
It looked as if someone had taken a large tomato and pumped it up until it burst.

Dave found it very homey. Excruciatingly cold, but homey.

In the middle, seated behind a red desk sat Terezi, in all her glory, sucking on a piece of red chalk like it was a lollipop.

Dave pulled his luggage to the desk, but Terezi didn't hear him. 
Dave saw a little gavel on the desktop - made of redwood, of course. A sign was taped on the desk which read:

R4P TH3 G4V3L FOR S3RV1C3 >: ]

Dave smirked at the word 'rap' which was totally uncool but since the only person in the room with him was a blind troll he decided he deserved a break. He glanced at Terezi and was startled to see her staring straight at him.

Then he remembered she couldn't see him and she started to punch holes in some important looking papers.
Dave hit the desk with the gavel and gave Terezi a terrible fright.
"Fuck!" She yelled and jumped right put of her chair, sending her red chalk lolly flying and hitting Dave on the nose rather painfully.

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Author's note:
I try to be as canonical as possible but I will not have trolls talk in quirks because that shit sucks.
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"Who's there?" Terezi asked, and stretched out her hands to prod Dave hard in the face.
"Dave Strider is the name."
"What are you here for? Are you the delivery man? I'll have 612 pounds of tomatoes please, charge it thanks." Terezi replied, taking her cane out from under the desk and bopping Dave on the head with it.
"I was hoping to become a tenant."
"Oh! Alrighty, I'll check my book." Terezi took off Dave's sunglasses and stuck her thumbs into his eyeballs like they were plums in Christmas pie.

Terezi sat back down and started running her hands over the braille in her book. "Huh. I can't seem to understand this..." She said.

"Uh," Dave started, "those are the goosebumps on my arms. Could you turn the AC down please?"
Terezi giggled and said, " Oh, sorry. Gamzee broke the AC." (H3H3H3H3H).
Dave looked back at the olive green polka dots on the walls, his eyes rolling in a demeanor that would make a tumbleweed proud. "Okay, how about that room?"
"Ah!" Terezi opened her book. "We've got quite a few openings. What kind of room would you like - ocean view, garden view or beach-front?"
Dave raised his eyebrow so high it disappeared past his hairline completely. "We're in New York City, Terezi."
"And so?"
"Okay, explain the ocean view room."
"We've only got a couple of those open, they're very popular. You see, they look out onto a road with an open manhole. Redglare's pretty sure it connects to the sea somewhere."
"Where'd the manhole cover go? That's damn dangerous."
"In our dining room."
"WHAT?"
"We've got that as the lazy susan for Sunday breakfast."
"I think I'll pass. How about the garden view?"
"If you squint real hard you can see Park Avenue."
"And beachfront?"
"Ah! These are very exclusive! Only available this month. You see, they're building a big supermarket next door and there are mounds of sand right outside."
Dave was contemplating making his home in one of those sand mounds, if only to be away from the cold.
"Well, I'll take a garden view room." Dave decided. It seemed like the most luxurious option which wasn't really saying much.
"Excellent choice!" Terezi remarked and poked her way over to a series of cabinets on the wall. Dave noticed the keys in two cabinets were black, but a third contained bright red keys.
"What's with those red keys?" He asked. Terezi stopped licking and sniffing the cabinets, turned around and explained, "Those are the suites."
"Makes sense. Can I have one of those?"
Terezi stabbed Dave's cheek with a red key.
"Here you go. Room 413."
She sat back but then sprang up. "Have you got a car?"
"No, what's it to you?" Dave replied.
"I double as the valet and everyone I park for complains about the slobber and chalk stains I leave. Redglare advised I warn people first."
"You don't own this establishment, do you?"
"My mom, Redglare, does. She's the manager. Latula's heiress, cook and housecleaner. I'm the receptionist and valet."
Dave glanced back at his luggage and dreaded the thought of carrying it up four floors. "Got a bellhop?"

Terezi threw a green piece of chalk at a door near the cabinets and Karkat rushed out with a broken airport luggage trolley. Dave looked at him and burst out laughing. Incredibly uncool, but he couldn't help it.

Karkat was wearing a bright, red, sparkly, frilly shirt and matching pants that made him look like a female salsa dancer. His bellhop hat had a huge red pom-pom stuck on crudely with double-sided tape and he had no shoes on, only red knitted socks laced with lint.
Karkat came bounding over and gave Terezi a peck on the cheek.
"What's up, love?"
"Heh heh! Karkles, we've got company!" Terezi giggled. "Or do we? Are you still there, Dave?" She called, waving her cane around. Dave dodged the blows and Karkat held Terezi's arm and pulled her into a hug.

Karkat patted Terezi on the head.

"He's here, Terezi." He said gently and gave Dave a 'sorry, she's nuts' look. Karkat stood on his toes to see Dave's luggage.
"What's your room number?" He asked, letting go of Terezi and sitting her down. She cackled and started to file her nails with a ruler.
"413." Dave replied.
Karkat loaded Dave's luggage into a dumbwaiter in the kitchen, which was not only painfully red but also sparkly, like Karkat. Dave thought he may have doused himself in glue and rolled on top of the countertops.
"Say, does your brother Kankri work here?" Dave asked as Karkat led him to his room.
"Nuh-uh." Karkat replied. "He finds this place..."
"Triggering?" Dave offered.
"Exactly."