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

[betterthanaplan]

So. Duke was a noble now. He had plans to sail off to destiny Windsorhampceistershire in the morning and take over his new duchy duties. And thanks to a handwaved makeover that afternoon, he even mostly looked the part.

But alas! He still dreamed of a bohemian life at sea, making art out of driftwood (or was it scrap metal? that part wasn't important) and raising money for the environment. So he was spending his final night of ignobility sipping whiskey and soda, and gazing out to sea.

Windsorhampceistershire was landlocked. Fate was a cruel mistress.

[expecting one, but can be open. Rey's thread would be chronologically last.]

Comments

[betterthanaplan]

Duke nodded. “Should move things below decks anyway. Those ladders can be tricky when you’re sober.” And Rey could trip over nothing at all. “Maybe I’ll change out of this monkey suit too.” He tugged on his lapels. “. . . I am wearing the hell out of it, though.”

[thatwaslucky]

"Yeah, you are," she said, setting down her drink so she could smooth down those lapels.

Because of course there had to be an awkward moment of close proximity.

[betterthanaplan]

Several of them, hopefully!

Duke’s expression softened as he smiled down at her, taking in how the harbor lights reflected in her hair, how her hands looked against his chest. The color and gleam of her lipstick. He leaned forward unconsciously, the moment hanging, the music starting to swell—

“Right. So I’m pretty sure that denim shirt you like is clean.” The one that was old enough it was practically bleached, and so soft to the touch. “I bet it’ll come down to your knees.”

[thatwaslucky]

"Right," she said, backing up a step. "Sounds perfect. Lead the way."

So he could be down there in case she slipped on the ladder.