Deck of the Cape Rouge, Saturday Morning

[okteiviakom]

Octavia had been dreaming of many things, this week. Mostly Haven, mostly horror, but many other messy things, too. Sheep and tilling fields and glowing butterflies and a week on a farm (sheepskin blankets and bonedeep exhaustion and a warm voice in her ear talking about what use was fighting at the end of the world?) had featured in jumbled everything of it all, but that was not out of the ordinary enough for Octavia to have really paid it much mind.

(And, well, she always felt drawn to the woods. And particularly when traumatic shit had been going down.)

So this was just any old Saturday morning.

She had a coffee cup in hand when she emerged onto the deck, with faint plans of at least finding some nice stretches to do in a bit that wouldn't irritate her wounds too much. But of course, all that was forgotten when she looked up and saw a young man standing at the edge of the deck, just barely over the gangplank.

The cup fell from her grasp as she stared at him.

[ooc: Opennn.]

Comments

[mystupidsheep]

"I guess I just didn't have enough time."

Yes, of course that was wry. And layered.

[my_own_advocate]

"Perhaps," said Lucifer, which for him was downright tactful. A beat. "Octavia, sugar?"

[okteiviakom]

Octavia shook her head. She usually opted for black coffee anyway, and barely remembered about the cup in her hand as it was.

Ilian helped himself to some milk, finally. Then took a careful sip.

He looked impressed.

[my_own_advocate]

"Good?" Lucifer inquired, tilting his head.

[mystupidsheep]

"Coffee wasn't as much of a thing on the Ground," Octavia murmured.

"Not like this," Ilian agreed. "Does it always taste like this here?"

[my_own_advocate]

"No," Lucifer said. "But I would never serve anyone on this boat substandard coffee. Or milk, for that matter."

[mystupidsheep]

Ilian nodded. "And it's milk from...?"

"Cows, here," Octavia supplied softly.

[my_own_advocate]

"I do have some goat milk if you'd prefer," Lucifer said. "Or oat milk, I suppose."

[okteiviakom]

Ilian shook his head, this time. "No, I like this," he said. "I like tasting new things." A pause. "Not a lot of people get to do that after they've died."

Octavia tried not to heave a helpless sigh.

(But also, she was getting ideas.)