okteiviakom | The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Thursday Evening

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The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Thursday Evening

Yesterday hadn't been great. Much like Lucifer, Octavia had come back to the Rouge for the night, but mostly because not doing so unannounced was something she was trying not to do, while doing so announced had felt like it would invite too many questions and make it all into far bigger of a deal than it had to be.

So she'd dragged her drunk self home. And in the morning, had made her hungover self stay with them all through breakfast. And then when the time had come for Duke to head into work, she'd taken off. Disappeared into the preserve, because if there was a place that could fix at least some of what she'd been feeling this week, it was there.

No comments on whether it had worked at all. But she was back, now. Sitting on one of the crates on the deck of the ship, holding a bottle of beer that she'd picked up from the Samsara, along with the sweater she'd stolen from Duke back when she'd moved back onto her own boat.

She hadn't gone below decks, yet. Hadn't announced her arrival, if anyone else was even in.

It was quiet, in the port. And she just wanted to listen to this silence for at least a few moments longer.

[ooc: Opennn.]

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Lucifer reached for the bourbon as Duke spoke, and poured a full glass.

"Right, here is the part you don't seem to grasp," he said, taking a sip from the glass, "We are not in any way obligated to deal with your crap. I could be on a portal to Los Angeles in roughly 25 minutes, Octavia could probably live in the preserve for the rest of her life if it suited her fancy. We are choosing to deal with your crap because we want to." He waved the glass at Duke's entire... everything. "I don't know why this is such a hard thing for you to understand."

Duke opened and closed his mouth a couple times, then looked at Octavia. How many times had he tried to explain this to her? How many times had she explained things back to him?

How thick was he, that he still didn't -- couldn't -- wrap his head around it?

"This isn't easy for me," he said finally. "I don't know how to be -- cared about."

"Tell me something I don't know," Octavia rasped, without any edge to her voice. It squeezed at her heart that he was still failing to grasp this.

She blamed Haven.

"You don't need to know how," she added. "You just need to try accept it."

"I mean, I'm happy to keep pouring alcohol for you, that tends to take the edge off of everything," Lucifer said, already starting to pour a new glass.

"Yeah," Duke said softly. "Thanks." He watched Lucifer pour for a moment, then reached for Octavia's hand to lead her back out onto the deck.

Lucifer could bring the glasses along when he finished pouring. Duke wanted to watch the water. It was easier for him to balance the big feelings inside him when he could watch the water.

Octavia let him. Hey, at least he was taking the initiative instead of shrinking away from them.

This hurt way less.

And she made sure to bring the whiskey with her.

Lucifer didn't take long to finish pouring, and he quickly made his way above decks, drinking glasses in hand. "Mind taking one of these off of me?" he called.

Duke had never been the sort to be totally inactive in his trauma. That alone had been enough most of his life to convince people that he was fine.

Then he'd come to Fandom.

Duke reached for the glass with a nod of thanks, then looked back out over the water. Suddenly wishing he had a three-seater bench.

Octavia set the whiskey down on the closest crate.

Then she, too, looked out over the water. For the second time tonight, while tugging her stolen sweater further up one shoulder.

Lucifer held out the other glass for her. He'd picked a spot beside Duke, with her on the other side; handing it to her meant reaching past Duke. Not that it mattered.

"Slightly better."

Duke gazed out over the water, sipping his drink in silence. Trying to decide what he could say, how he could explain the mess inside his head.

It might take awhile.

Octavia took the glass, even though drinking was another thing she wasn't sure she was really feeling like doing anymore. But if nothing else, it gave her an excuse to brush her fingers against Lucifer's hand as she took it.

Then she went back to trying to decide whether she wanted to try leaning against Duke's side.

Lucifer's own fingers lingered, for once. It was the best way he knew to communicate some kind of support.

He drank, of course. He could at least wait Duke out until he hit the bottom of his glass.

That time came up fast. Every time Duke started to talk but changed his mind he drank instead.

It at last loosened him up enough to say “I’m sorry it’s so hard for me to get this.”

"Not really something you need to apologize for," Octavia replied, mild and quiet as she considered her own glass. She was yet to take even a single sip, but who was counting? "It's not like you can help it."

That much had become abundantly clear.

Still, there was some worth in him at least acknowledging it.

Lucifer sipped from his almost-empty glass. "Yes, it does seem to be a thought a bit stuck in your head."

Duke contemplated his own glass, trying to think of how Claire might put it.

Maybe that as the point of therapy. Giving you the language to explain things properly to the people you wanted in your life.

"I've never been able to . . . stop," he said slowly. "Not with other people. The other day, when I got back . . . I had to." He took a long, careful breath. "It scares me."

"Why?" Octavia asked, finally looking up at his face again. "Because it makes you vulnerable?"

Because she knew a thing or two about that.

Well, at least it didn't make either of them more vulnerable to stabbing.

Lucifer said nothing, but topped up his glass with bourbon. He was curious, yes, but if Octavia wanted to take lead on the talking, well... go ahead.

Duke took a breath and opened his mouth, but found himself unable to speak for a long moment.

“It sounds dumb when you say it like that,” he said helplessly.

"It's not," Octavia said. And finally took a sip before continuing. "That's never really been an option for you before."

Her tone was mild. But she sounded like she thought she knew what she was talking about.

"You can literally stab me to death if you wanted to," Lucifer muttered into his bourbon, "If you really want to get into an 'utterly dumb things about vulnerability' competition."

Duke blinked and looked at him with a frown. “I . . . don’t, thanks.”

None of this was a competition.

Octavia...

Downed a larger gulp, this time.

Lucifer made a noise into his drink. "...But Octavia was making some kind of brilliant point," he segued.

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