Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

[okteiviakom]

Octavia had been feeling kind of... restless, this week. But keeping it to herself, because Duke had been having a rougher time, and anyway, it was fine. This feeling came and went, and Octavia was used to it.

(Though it really would have been great if Dr. Baker had been able to squeeze her in during some other time this week, after the regular Tuesday session got cancelled.)

It was Sunday now, anyway. Food and cider and hopefully a good time? Octavia had even channeled some of her twitchiness into prepping dessert, earlier. "The fruit's all ready in the fridge," she said, as she got up to clear away the dinner plates. "The white chocolate on them should have set by now."

Spoken like she actually knew anything and hadn't just grabbed the instructions from Google this morning.

[ooc: For the guy.]

Comments

[my_own_advocate]

This had officially gotten strange.

"No, I don't," Lucifer said. "It is in fact, the most exact number of humans who have disappointed me. Many have. Some haven't."

[okteiviakom]

"'Most' and 'many' are two different things, too," Octavia couldn't help pointing out.

[my_own_advocate]

"Darling, what is your goal with this particular line of conversation?" Lucifer finally felt himself compelled to ask. "Because if you desire to get me to say otherwise, I have to remind you I have little interest in lying to you."

[okteiviakom]

"Am I supposed to have a goal?"

Kind of a weird way to ask whether you were supposed to know where all this was coming from, Tavi.

(She didn't, not really. But there was an agitated sort of exasperation to the expression on her face.)

[my_own_advocate]

"Well, you're the one currently arguing with me because you find my personal feelings 'depressing'," Lucifer pointed out, "And I have trouble determining why, if it isn't to try and get me to say something that I find untruthful but you find more palatable."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia's brow knit together harder. "I don't think your feelings are depressing, I find the fact that so many people have disappointed you and apparently keep disappointing you depressing."

[my_own_advocate]

"Why does it matter?" Lucifer asked, just a touch of desperation in his voice. "I don't care about them, and I don't have to live with them."

[okteiviakom]

"But I did!"

Oh, oh no, that was loud. And almost -- explosive.

[my_own_advocate]

Well. That was certainly-- emotional.

Lucifer had no idea what it meant. Not even a little bit.

So he was left there, blinking at her.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia shot up from her chair, since it was the only way to recoil from the situation. Turned away and took two -- no, three steps, hands balling into fists at her sides.

Surely composure would return to her like this?

[my_own_advocate]

Or some kind of verbal explanation? Because Lucifer had learned over the years that if he wanted to make the people he actually cared about happy, he needed to-- try not to make everything about him. So he tried.

While at the same time, his every instinct was yelling at him to assume this was about him.

In other words, his mind had a bit of a short circuit situation.

"... Octavia?"

That was safe enough.

[okteiviakom]

Sadly not something Octavia responded to right now. She was doing her level best to take a few deep breaths, in through the nose, slowly out through the mouth.

Her heart was racing. Why was her heart racing?

(Soncha kik thru, noda raz: osleya gon rouz --)

[my_own_advocate]

Gingerly, Lucifer rose from his chair.

He took... one step in her direction.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia heard him. Didn't do anything - including not putting more distance between them, so at least there was that.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Something like shame was starting to trickle through the white noise in her ears. Maybe that was good? Embarrassment had its uses, though finding words would have been better.

[my_own_advocate]

"I'm going to touch you now," Lucifer said slowly.

He was. He reached for her shoulder.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia did nothing. So, she let him.

Thinking about blood on concrete. Wasn't that what her mind always did? Eventually all fuzzy chaos began narrowing down to blood.

[my_own_advocate]

"Octavia," Lucifer said slowly. "Breathe."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia made the tiniest, softest, affronted-helpless noise.

She was doing her best, here. In, nose, out, mouth.

[my_own_advocate]

"Right, right," Lucifer muttered. "Sorry. It's just-- the only thing I can say."

[okteiviakom]

The hand on her shoulder wasn't enough pressure, wasn't enough anything, but Octavia didn't really have the words to communicate that right now. Or anything else useful, either.

She was trying to work up to it, honest, she was.

Her knuckles were white, her nails pressing into her palms.

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer wasn't thinking about pressure, so much. But he did notice her hands.

"Be careful with that," he murmured, sneaking an arm around her so he could... slide his hand over one of those knuckles. "If you need to grip something, grip me."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia's fist jerked away from his hand, in a way that seemed purely reflexive.

The way she practically shoved her back against his chest, less so.

[my_own_advocate]

... Erm. Well. All right.

Lucifer's arms slid around her waist in a move part-reflex, part-desperately trying to roll with it.

He didn't know what else to do, either.

[okteiviakom]

He was doing what Octavia had oh so clearly instructed him to do. That was all that mattered, whether he knew he was doing it or not.

... Though guess she could pull her verbal skills together enough for at least a little adjustment:

"Tighter."

[my_own_advocate]

"Right," Lucifer muttered, faintly apologetic.

He tightened his grip.