The deck of the Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Sunday morning

The island was not doing a thing, at least so far as Duke could tell. He'd managed to have a damn decent Saturday, and had actually slept last night, without any dreams that he could remember. Duke felt very nearly normal.

So he was doing something damn normal. Lounging on his deck, enjoying the sunshine, a pot of coffee (that wasn't even spiked!) on a little tray by his feet, a book in hand. Deliberately chill music on his phone.

Polly Lobster hopped up on the crate he was using as a coffee table, then onto his leg, and settled in to roost. Duke lowered his books just enough to watch the little bird with a soft huff.

It took some luck, and a lot of careful curating, but it turned out he could, in fact, still quietly feel good, even by himself.

[don't let that last line fool you, this is definitely OPEN!]