okteiviakom | The Deck of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Friday Afternoon

Octavia knew there was a Parents Weekend thing happening in town right now. She was still undecided on whether she wanted to put in an appearance, because on one hand, last year's had led to some bad times for her. On the other... There was some small part of her that hoped, no matter how foolishly, that maybe Gloria would somehow show up.

(There was just so much she wanted to tell her. And so much fear that she would never get to.)

So far, for her trek through town after her usual Friday routine of therapy and swimming out in New York, she had steered clear of the park. She had a big bag from a shoe store to get home, anyway. See, there'd been some talk of those early days on the Ground in her session today, and then she'd taken a slightly different route from her usual in getting to the portal place, and she'd seen the boots in a store window, and, well. She'd never been able to resist a good symbol. Especially one as personal as this, appearing at just the right time for it to feel a little like something else than just pure coincidence.

(Even with how mired in complications that thought was for her, these days. For reasons she had still not discussed with Dr. Baker at all.)

And even as she stepped aboard the Rouge, she was still wondering whether she should've just taken her purchase on the Samsara instead, and buried them in her closet. The urge to share and the urge to keep it to herself felt equal.

Maybe she'd shove them in a closet here, instead.

[ooc: Open, though slow.]

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Octavia's eyes flicked over, even though her head didn't turn. "Really?"

"Why not?" Lucifer asked. "We're going to run out of nice beach days sooner rather than later."

"Oh, I have no reason why not," Octavia affirmed him with a little snort. "And I'm not objecting."

"Just making sure," Lucifer said. "And if we don't go swimming, we can take Duke. Build some sandcastles."

That he would get way too into.

"Which you will make way too elaborate," Octavia agreed with his narrative. "But anyway, I just came from the pool."

She didn't need to do any more swimming today.

"So no swimming," Lucifer said easily. "We'll have a picnic on the beach." Beat. "And my sandcastles are as elaborate as they need to be, I assure you."

"I'm sure they're as elaborate as you inexplicably feel you need them to be."

She was very clever.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "My motivations are perfectly explicable."

"And mine aren't?"

"You own how many pairs of shoes?"

Octavia shrugged. "Three?"

A beat.

"Now. What's your point?"

"You only own three pairs of shoes," Lucifer pointed out, "That's barely enough to coordinate an outfit."

"And is coordinating outfits something you see me wanting to do a lot?" Octavia retorted. "It's not inexplicable if it's in line with everything else."

"It's inexplicable because you should seriously think about whether those black boots go with every one of your outfits."

Octavia paused. Made a show of thinking about it.

And then said, "They do."

Lucifer groaned. Loudly.

"What?" Octavia asked, feigning innocense. "I thought about it!"

"You really did not."

Octavia took her turn to roll her eyes at him. "Because it doesn't need thinking about."

"That's where you're wrong," Lucifer informed her. "Not everything is suited to three shades of black stompy boots."

Octavia snorted, faintly.

"You get how that's just a matter of opinion, right?"

"There are opinions that are objectively wrong, and there are those that aren't," Lucifer said with more authority than he had.

"Uh huh," Octavia said, not buying it. And also more dry than before. "And, how long exactly are you planning to keep judging how I dress?"

"I'm not judging how you dress right now," Lucifer said. "Merely judging your thought process."

Well, Octavia's expression didn't turn any more impressed, that was for sure.

"That's worse."

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