[the feed cuts in when the phone hits the floor; someone can be heard to swear very loudly, and on screen can be seen the goggle-eyed face of the
crabbie sandbox and some gray walls.]
[there is a bit of shuffling, and then a hand - a human hand, apparently - comes into view and blocks the camera as the hand's owner picks it up.]
The fuck -
[Karkat - or rather, this version of Karkat, since he's a lot less gray than anybody who recognizes him would be accustomed to, and also, it seems, a few years older - stares at the screen of the phone for about thirty seconds with an expression pretty much identical to the one in the icon accompanying this post, muttering unintelligible irritation as, presumably, he pokes around at its settings]
[then:] - Oh, shit, is this thing recording? Shit, it is. Is this transmitting? Is anybody receiving this? Because if they are it'd be really great to know why the infant throttling fuck I just woke up in a novelty sand box filled with syrup - unless this is more nefarious supervillain crap, in which case you can skip the bullshit exposition and just tell me who I'm having the outstanding displeasure of being kidnapped by this time, so I can make a reasonable estimate on how long it's going to take my moron associates to fling themselves external underpants first into your needlessly complicated web of deceit and we can both get on with our lives.