When Terezi bumps against his shoulder, he's quick to return the gesture. It's like the world's most discreet brofist without the obnoxious connotations likely to get up Rose's grill like the stray sausage at the bbq. He's bummed, he can't even hide it. Any pep he had is just fizzling into moody teen downs and he's trying desperately hard not to purse his lips like he's prone to doing when he sulks.

"Yeah. We'll sleep on it." And by we he means everyone, because he's returning that look Rose gives him with one that speaks plain and clear through his shades. Cut. That. Shit. Out. It might not be as practiced as older Dave's, but he and Rose have had their share of meaningful glances.

However, it's only momentary and he turns his attention away to call "Later, skater." out to Terezi. Silently he's cursing her for leaving him with this moment, so he's rubbing the back of his neck before he drops his arms and shrugs. "If you need me, I'll be on the yacht." He waves a lazy arm at her, moving to walk in the same direction as Terezi before rethinking and turning to head in the opposite direction.