betterthanaplan | Aboard the OceaNyx, Wednesday afternoon

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Aboard the OceaNyx, Wednesday afternoon

History said that the weirdness in town had probably abated by now, but Duke and his partners had quietly agreed to stay at sea a bit longer. Let things with them settle a bit more, before inviting Fandom chaos back in.

Unfortunately, Fandom chaos wasn't the only kind they had to worry about.

Duke had been feeling increasingly ill as the days went by, and by Wednesday morning, he heaved himself over to the wheel only to pretty much collapse into his seat, panting.

How could just existing be this draining??

[for those on the boat with him, and slow play. NFB due to distance.]

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She was breathless and shaky and Duke knew how painful Jordan’s trouble had been.

He watched Octavia with a miserable smile.

“Sorry.”

Octavia could probably have used some help sitting up, but she was spinning Lucifer leaving her side into a good thing: yet one more chance to pretend she was fine.

(She didn't look fine, but she made it upright.)

She shook her head, slowly and carefully, meeting Duke's gaze. "You didn't want this."

She was, perhaps, doing too good of a job at playing it off as okay. Because Lucifer hadn't realized she needed the help.

He returned with a dustpan, kneeling down by her side to start sweeping up the shards. "So what do we know about this particular trouble?"

Duke hugged himself tighter, unable to take his eyes off Octavia. Unable to stop thinking about how she’d convulsed before going down, the pain on her face —

No wonder Jordan was always so angry. So bitter.

“Jordan’s trouble,” he said softly. “She was like a human taser. Anyone she touched . . . hurt.”

Octavia was just going to hang out on the floor for as bit, though acting fine was getting to be less and less an act, thankfully.

"That one sentient blood puddle didn't like it either," she added. It was the main thing she'd actually seen in person before, after all.

Until this time.

"And what emotion triggers it?" said Lucifer.

Somehow, he still assumed this stuff all worked by the same rules.

Duke shrugged. It was an extra-awkward movement with his hands so firmly tucked away. “She never got past it.”

"That won't be you," Octavia said. Promised? Said.

"We'll figure it out," Lucifer agreed, stretching up with the dustpan. "There has to be some kind of lever somewhere."

Duke let out a noncommittal hum.

(Audrey had never figured out Nathan's trigger, either.)

"In the meantime . . . guess I'm not sleeping naked anymore."

There wasn't enough room on this boat for them to not share a bed. Not unless he decided to sleep on the deck.

Octavia shook her head. "You can sleep however you like," she said, softly but like she meant it. "I can... figure something out."

There was a lot of that about, wasn't there? Figuring things out.

Lucifer sighed. "Or I could just lay in the middle," he pointed out. "I'm big enough to make a decent barrier."

And Duke's trouble didn't seem to do anything to him.

He was not going to think about that too hard.

That was fine, Duke could do the thinking too much about that for the both of them.

(Lucifer was no longer vulnerable to him. Or was it just because this was a trouble and he wasn't vulnerable to those? Or Lucifer didn't trust him, which made sense, because Duke was a fuck up and maybe he shouldn't be trusted --)

"I can wear pajamas," he said. "I should -- get used to being covered. Just in case."

"Okay," Octavia said, softly, even though it was still pretty clear she wanted to argue.

She just didn't want anyone else to hurt right now.

Lucifer sighed.

"Whatever you feel comfortable with," he said.

Duke barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not sure 'comfortable' is going to happen any time soon."

Or possibly ever.

"Fuck, I want a drink."

At that, Octavia was just going to look to Lucifer.

That was his area, not hers.

Lucifer looked at Duke. Then he looked at Octavia-- looking at him.

"Right, I'll get the scotch," he said, tossed the contents of the dustpan in the trash, and walked towards the liquor cabinet.

"Thanks," Duke said softly. His hands were starting to sweat, but he wasn't about to take them out from under his arms until he had something to put them on that wasn't something he could hurt.

Octavia was watching his hands, too. Or the way she couldn't actually see them.

"I'm all the way over here, jaka," she murmured. (Where 'here' was 'on the floor'.) "It's okay."

"Yeah, 'cause I reached for you and you collapsed." Duke shook his head. "I'm not taking the risk."

"Your hands aren't magically going to fly over here."

"Yeah, 'cause I never . . . instinctively reach for you or anything." Duke stared at the planks between his feet. "I'm dealing, gona. Let me deal."

"Just trying to head whatever this will turn into off at the pass," Octavia replied, but mostly as a mutter under her breath, dropping her gaze.

How optimistic of her.

Duke stared down at his feet some more and hoped Lucifer would hurry up with that scotch.

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