[Karkat listens, anger and rage frothing in him like a rolling boil, but there is really only so much that can be done. He can't interrupt her. As much as he argued back earlier, he listens now, because - him or not - the instinct of this is your moirail, so shut up and listen was not beaten out of him with the change to a human body. He's a troll at heart, and that, along with what may well be simple respect for Rose as a person keeps his mouth shut until she's done.]

[And though he wants to smack her hand away, to smack her, he doesn't when she pulls him to face her again.]

[There's a deep, stewing ire in his eyes. Whatever it is that lies beneath the surface of everything else in each moment of his life has been brought up close enough to the surface to see, if but a glimpse. She doesn't have the full story yet, and much as she guessed, he's not enough to volunteer up the full details.]

[So he glares at her. Eyes narrowed, mouth a tight-lipped frown, every other feature worked into it to convey what he can't bring to words.]

[Much of the argument is internal.]

[But after a minute or so - for he's not quick in responding - he manages to bite something out.]

There's a lot you still don't fucking get. And a lot of that you probably never will, not completely.

[His hands curl and uncurl. He rolls his shoulders.]

I hate you for it, too. And I fucking can't stand it that I don't know what to fucking say to all that.

[So, after another lingering moment spent with that glare, he pushes up roughly from the couch - stalking on into the kitchen after.]

You can stay. I'm making some fucking hot chocolate.

[This - all this - is a lot better than most would get from him.]