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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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.

"I know you two aren't going to -- hurt me," Duke said. "You're not plotting anything. I should be able to relax."

"It's not that easy," Octavia said. She was looking at her glass again. Almost empty. "It wasn't for me."

You don't -- let me in. Unless I force it.

A pause.

"It isn't, for me."

"And why would it be, honestly," Lucifer said. "You are technically handing someone a loaded gun they can point at you any time they like."

Duke shot him another glance, this one concerned.

"All you asked was that I sit on your damn lap."

"Yeah," Octavia rasped, with something approaching patience, "and now we're talking about why you reacted how you did."

Which honestly hadn't made a ton of sense to her, at the time.

"Because you could've just sat down and... I don't know. Made out with us for a while? It wouldn't have had to be a big deal."

"I would have settled for a cuddle, frankly," Lucifer added.

Duke's hands wanted to start shaking again. He lifted his glass to take a sip, only to remember it was empty.

"Is it possible that would have been too safe?"

"It's your brain," Octavia said, shrugging faintly. "Only you can answer that question."

Lucifer, meanwhile, held the bottle out, ready to pour more into Duke's glass.

Duke held out his glass.

"That sounds even stupider."

Octavia sighed, although she tried her best to at least make it a quiet one.

"Well, can you think of anything you don't think sounds stupid?"

"Or stop yelling at yourself for having thoughts and feelings and that sort of thing," Lucifer said, topping up Duke's glass.

"Brains are the worst," Duke grumbled.

He saluted Lucifer and sipped his refreshed drink.

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