There is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself

In the time that it took Sollux to fling himself through the space between dimensions, Dib had put the laptop down beneath his sofa and went to boil the water. He was wearing something vaguely similar; his clothes were a threadbare black shirt with a cartoonish skull printed on it, and a pair of flannel pajama pants that slung down on his hips. He turned to watch his friend fly through the window. "Remind me to put that thing somewhere less dangerously close to the actual window," he stated. "One of us is going to wind up zigging when we should zag and wind up introducing ourselves to the concrete." He got a slightly tired smile as he turned back to check on the water, before he walked over to his fridge and grabbed a pair of beers, handing one over to Sollux. His arms were covered in superficial scratches, both from weaving around in thick underbrush with his jacket off, and from claws of indefinite horrors that were only solid enough to scratch him when they wanted to be.

"So how's shit going on the other end of the big beyond?"