No. No no no, that is not a thing that Dave likes, he does not find that snarl oddly hot - damn it, why does he have to get off on alien noises so much? Flashstepping is a lot harder when your junk is apparently deciding to hold an impromptu party in your pants.

He manages, though, sprinting down the hall in between blurred movements, his legs pumping smoothly. He slides around the corner, throwing his - admittedly rather slightly - body weight to keep from barreling into the opposite wall and takes off again, feeling his legs start to burn in that way they only do when he's pushing himself to his limits. It makes his chest burn for a different reason, missing his strifes with Bro, but he ignores that for now.

There's a murderous clown troll after him, after all. He can't really let his attention wander.