betterthanaplan | Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

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Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

Duke was looking much healthier walking back to the boat than he'd been heading into work, today. He was also looking way more frustrated.

"Arthropods!" he called as he slouched up the gangplank. "Humidifier! Guys from Rome!"

Someone had had to release a trouble at the diner today. The good news? He'd managed to control what came out. The bad news?

He had absolutely no idea how to make it stop.

[For the partners and SO MUCH SLOWPLAY please!]

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Octavia had been hanging out on the deck. Originally, it had been to do some yoga, but then Polly Lobster and some of the other porgs had been experiencing some sort of a... porg conflict, which she'd then been attempting to sort out. Mostly by gently separating them while muttering in exasperated Trig at them.

Which may have explained why the weird things Duke was saying didn't immediately register. She was just happy to hear his voice, straightening up from the porg-minding to look over towards the gangplank.

"Ha yun, jaka."

"High cringe, dreamboat," Duke said in return. And flinched. "Echo lodged a bumblebee."

Oh god, this was going to get old very fast.

Octavia blinked.

It suddenly felt like something had turned upside down and inside out inside her brain.

"... What?"

Duke clenched his hands into fist and took a long breath.

"Chai habit is the trombone."

Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to make sense just by sheer force of will, was he.

"Okay, I have to check," Octavia hazarded, "are you speaking nonsense, or is my brain just...?"

She hadn't realized yet he looked better than he had this morning. Otherwise she would probably have been much faster putting this together as maybe the weirdest trouble she'd seen so far.

But instead she felt concerned she was experiencing a stroke or something.

Duke sighed and pointed to his face. "Ice screwing honeysuckle." He gestured at her and then around the boat. "Huge creep is oliebollen."

God, the urge to ask 'what?' again was strong.

But Octavia managed to hold it back. "Taking that as meaning it's you," she said. And then she finally took a proper look at him. Just the way his face looked healthier again. "It's a trouble."

Of course it was a trouble.

The 'well yeah' tone was very strong, even if what came out of Duke's mouth was "Short shorts."

Octavia sighed.

"How are you feeling?"

A beat.

"No, you can't tell me, can you." Goddammit.

Duke shrugged. “Flibbertygibbet.”

"Right," Octavia said, with a nod that felt like it should've come with a sigh, somehow. "Do you think there's any connection between what you're saying and what you want to be saying?"

"Down the hatch to Idaho?"

That sounded like a no.

Tonewise, sure.

Octavia was squinting faintly, anyway. As if she thought that if she just concentrated hard enough, she could force it to make sense.

Duke sighed. He could tell what she was doing, because he kept trying to do it too.

"Shrunken drunk monkey dancing."

That way only lay headaches.

"There could be a pattern," Octavia said.

Just assuming meaning from the sigh rather than the words.

His tone was doing a lot of work here, yes. He shrugged.

"Argue with turtles."

Octavia couldn't help a brief glance towards the porgs.

Then she shook that off.

"And I assume you haven't figured out what brought this on, either?"

Duke nodded, patting his chest.

"Beezlebub! Gotcha watches."

"... So you did figure it out?" Octavia hazarded.

"No graveyard, anti-war rodeo."

He knew he'd let it out, he just didn't know how to stop it.

There was no way for Octavia to get that. Mostly because she was asking the wrong question.

So there was much confused squinting again.

"Tuesday," Duke said. He agreed with that expression. "Taco Tuesday."

Octavia sighed.

And finally stepped closer, where she could at least give him a hug.

(Unless this was also another touching trouble and he'd somehow neglected to try and communicate as much...)

She'd have to tell him. But given that he wrapped himself around her -- he was pretty sure it wasn't.

And Octavia didn't feel any adverse effects beyond the concern she'd already been feeling.

Her arms wrapped tight around his waist. "I'm sorry, snogon," she murmured.

"All fleas go sledding," Duke said. He pressed his face into her hair. "Catch breakfast."

"Exactly," Octavia sighed, and nuzzled his chest a little.

Grateful that this part still worked.

Duke hoped she got the sense of what he was saying. It wasn't anything new or different.

Just that she was smart, and that he loved her.

He sighed into her hair and kissed her neck. Just to be sure.

Octavia was getting something soothing, and it was good enough for her.

And then she felt his lips on her neck, and tilted her head a little in the opposite direction, to give him more room to do that.

Or to just bury his face in her neck. That would work for her, too.

He could do both. Kissing and then burying. Tucking himself into and around her as much as possible.

Sometimes Octavia wished she'd been taller. This was one of those times.

But she could still hold him close. And let him curl all around her.

The urge to hum a familiar tune seemed to come out of nowhere, but she went with it.

Duke laughed softly into her neck.

He wondered what nonsense would come out if he tried to sing along.

He could still laugh. It was good enough for Octavia. Well, that and the fact that he still knew the significance of the song.

That it was still a bond.

"I know I don't get there often enough," she sang quietly, for both of them, "but God knows I surely try..."

He could understand them just fine. It was making himself understood that he couldn't do easily.

He hummed along, face still in her neck. Swayed a little in time.

Lucifer had been on the mainland, dealing with the Baltimore club. He came home relatively late.

"Hope I didn't miss dinner," he called, as he stepped onto the deck.

“Knobs cobble down,” Duke told him, resigned to his nonsensical fate. “Glutton for catnaps.”

You didn’t miss dinner, Luce! Just Duke’s new trouble.

There was... a pause, as Lucifer stopped, squinted at him, and tried to figure out if he'd heard that properly. "Sorry," he said, "Is that a euphemism?"

Duke had said 'knobs'!

Duke rubbed his forehead. “Square fish.”

"... Now that's just rude," Lucifer said, tilting his head quizzically.

Duke sighed. There went his hopes of Lucifer understanding him. This must’ve been one of those physical affect troubles, hitting even the immune.

“Flocks scream.”

"Why are we bringing all this wildlife into the conversation?" Lucifer asked.

He was so confused.

"Anthropomorphize agony aunts," Duke told him.

He was fully not in control of the variety of nonsense that came out of his mouth.

Yeah, Lucifer had nothing. (He was also not as quick as Octavia to make the leap.)

"... Right, I'll just pour you a scotch, then?"

Duke closed his eyes and nodded.

"Bottled dice."

Lucifer sighed.

He wandered into the galley, and popped up moments later with a bottle and two glasses. "Sit down."

Duke sat. He'd found a pen and a pad of paper while Lucifer was gone.

Artificial sweeteners?

Yeah, that didn't help.

Lucifer darted a look down at the note and frowned. "In scotch? Absolutely not."

Duke threw his hands in the air, giving up. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his forehead.

Lucifer shot him a weird look, but poured him a drink and shoved it in his direction.

Duke accepted it. "Spanking teeth."

He was just going to toss back the entire glass now. It's fine.

Lucifer squinted at him for a moment longer.

"... Is this a trouble?"

"Gargling," Duke said. Tone-wise, it pretty clearly meant 'obviously'.

"Well, I'm sorry if I just assumed that maybe you'd done drugs today," Lucifer sighed.

"Banned violins," Duke said, groaning.

Drugs would have been nice.

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Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

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