okteiviakom | Lux, Los Angeles, Friday Morning

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Lux, Los Angeles, Friday Morning

Tonight, Lux was going to be packed and loud again, but this early on a Friday morning, the club wasn't only quiet but deserted. Which made it the perfect place for Octavia to sneak down to for her therapy. In previous weeks, she'd usually just gone out on Lucifer's balcony and kept her voice down for these Friday sessions that happened before neither Duke nor Lucifer tended to even be up yet, but this week...

This had seemed more right. Taking over the empty club, sitting at the grand piano with her phone.

Not that that had made her feel like she could be much more open with her therapist than she had in the last couple of weeks. Until this trip, she hadn't felt much reason to censor what she told Dr. Baker, but there was something about having to talk about God messing up your relationship that she didn't entirely want to get into. Not quite at that level, anyway.

In the end, in this particular session, she largely just ended up venting about love (sometimes it just feels like putting a name on things just makes it more complicated) and rejection (I swear he asked me that ten years ago, and now I'm right back here again) and loss (just feels like something's ending, and I should be able to stop it, but he just keeps looking at me like--).

And once her hour was up, she... stayed where she was. Closed the video chat app, opened a browser.

Looked up Portalocity.

Looked at portals to Fandom.

And wished for a vacation.

[ooc: Open for texts, calls, and those that are here if they so wish.]

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Duke hadn't spent much of this trip going to find Octavia. His focus had been pretty firmly on Lucifer, who was in crisis, and he'd otherwise mostly let Octavia find him.

But, as they'd pointed out to each other earlier in the week, that was a mistake. One he felt the need to rectify now.

"Hey," he said, when he found her sitting at the piano. If she was doing something important, he didn't want to interrupt, but if she was just . . . sitting. . . . "What've you got there?"

Octavia had heard him coming, of course - the elevator doors weren't loud, but the club was so quiet at this hour. She looked up at him, briefly, then down at the screen.

Considered saying something other than the truth.

"Portalocity."

There was no point in lying to him.

Duke leaned against the piano, the way he would when Lucifer was playing, then folded his arms on the top of it and dropped his chin on them.

"Tired of LA, huh?"

So was he.

Octavia didn't nod, because that didn't feel like it was exactly it, but...

Close enough.

"Thinking about going home for a few days."

Duke did his best to ignore the thrill of panic in his chest when he realized what she as saying.

"Alone."

Octavia's shoulders lifted, barely, into a shrug. Her voice was mild, tired.

"Didn't really make it that far in planning."

Hadn't planned at all.

Duke relaxed by a few degrees.

"I've been looking into buying a boat," he said. Offered.

They both had their own ways of dealing.

Octavia's gaze was drawn back to his face. "You have?"

It wasn't surprising, really. Or at least it made perfect sense now that she'd heard it.

She couldn't help a little bit of dread of her own, though. "How long do you think we'll be here?"

"I don't know," Duke said. "I really don't. Linda said something about 'being here indefinitely'." He grimaced softly. "Which is probably true, but not fun to hear."

The way Octavia's face slowly fell seemed to agree with that last part of what he said.

"Indefinitely," she repeated.

"Which could mean tomorrow," Duke pointed out. "But . . . also could mean it'll be weeks."

Months.

Years.

He wasn't thinking about that.

"So . . . yeah. I might buy a boat."

Otherwise known as his own private escape hatch.

Octavia would have slumped back right about now, had the piano stool actually had a back to do that against. Instead, she exhaled a deep sigh.

"All the more reason to go back home," she said, with a slow but short shake of her head. "I didn't pack for indefinitely."

She'd packed for 'the detective is missing, portal in three minutes'.

Duke nodded. Then risked asking "How much of this is because you're still mad at Lucifer?"

Sigh. "I'm not still mad at Lucifer."

Oh, no, it was a much more confusing mess of emotion by now.

"Okay." Duke came over to join her on the piano bench. "Does he know that?"

Octavia scooted over a little bit, to make room for him.

"I don't know what Lucifer thinks."

"Uh huh. Have you tried telling him you're not angry at him anymore?"

"I think that was obvious from what I just said."

It was mild. Maybe a little dry.

". . . Okay, now you kind of sound like you're pissed at me too," Duke said, leaning back just a little, and giving her a small smile, in case he was misreading her completely.

Octavia sighed again. Looked towards the ceiling, then closed her eyes.

Closed them tight.

"I'm pissed at myself." Something like that, anyway.

"Ah." Duke twisted so he was facing her, and moved to settle his arms loosely around her waist. "You want to tell me about it?"

Octavia let her head fall forward a little. And when she opened her eyes, she watched her hand as it settled on his arm.

"There's not much to say," she muttered. "I don't know how to help him."

Didn't even know how to help herself with the feelings gnawing at her insides.

"Hm," Duke hummed. "I'm familiar with that feeling."

Usually with regards to her.

"I know."

That made it worse, somehow.

"And I feel like I should just -- know. I've been the problem enough times."

"As I recall, you usually have no idea how anyone can help you, either," Duke said. "So . . . well, maybe it's okay to not know. Just let him know you going to keep trying."

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