![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The paranoia of Saturday had turned into happy-go-lucky amorousness on Sunday, and they'd all been excited for this weird mood-altering crystal thing to be done with Monday morning.
Instead, Duke had woken up pissed. And after taking his mood out on both his partners, had decided to lock himself into the hold for the duration, where he'd proceeded to destroy everything that wasn't already in pieces from Octavia's rampage while he was gone.
He'd spent the night down there, sprawled out on a couple crates worth of protective packaging amidst the wreckage, and when he woke Tuesday, spent several long moments refusing to open his eyes, dreading what bizarre mood the crystal had in store for him today.
He felt . . . well, not fine. Guilty and nervous and faintly ashamed, but not angry. Or aggressively happy. Or paranoid. He sat up and lifted his shirt, and felt a flush of relief at his perfectly normal stomach, unblemished by any weird, color-changing rocks.
He knocked firmly on the hold door before unlocking it and stepping slowly out. "Hey," he called, wincing faintly as he stretched his sore muscles. "It's me, I think I'm normal again. Can I get a reality check just to be sure?"
Look, between Haven and Fandom, it was becoming very hard to trust even his own senses. For all he knew, the crystal was in his back now and glowing chartreuse or something.
[for the partners if they wanna!]
Instead, Duke had woken up pissed. And after taking his mood out on both his partners, had decided to lock himself into the hold for the duration, where he'd proceeded to destroy everything that wasn't already in pieces from Octavia's rampage while he was gone.
He'd spent the night down there, sprawled out on a couple crates worth of protective packaging amidst the wreckage, and when he woke Tuesday, spent several long moments refusing to open his eyes, dreading what bizarre mood the crystal had in store for him today.
He felt . . . well, not fine. Guilty and nervous and faintly ashamed, but not angry. Or aggressively happy. Or paranoid. He sat up and lifted his shirt, and felt a flush of relief at his perfectly normal stomach, unblemished by any weird, color-changing rocks.
He knocked firmly on the hold door before unlocking it and stepping slowly out. "Hey," he called, wincing faintly as he stretched his sore muscles. "It's me, I think I'm normal again. Can I get a reality check just to be sure?"
Look, between Haven and Fandom, it was becoming very hard to trust even his own senses. For all he knew, the crystal was in his back now and glowing chartreuse or something.
[for the partners if they wanna!]