betterthanaplan | The Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Christmas Eve

As a rule, he didn't tend to do much for the winter holidays -- unless you counted "go somewhere it's not winter" -- but some combination of Fandom's festivities and the cold weather had actually put him into something of a Christmas-y mood this year, so the Rouge's deck was -- well. Decked. There were string lights and garlands all over the open deck area, especially around the table holding the big thermos of hot, buttered rum. He'd set up a little fire pit on the metal cargo-bay doors, and the door to the galley and lounge below-decks was propped open with a now-dormant loaf of yesterday's fruitcake, in case people preferred to go in where it was warmer.

As discussed, Duke had only mentioned the party to a few people since planning it with Rey. It was Christmas, though, so if people decided to wander up and say hi, he wouldn't turn them away.

[up early and ready for all the slowplay. A few people in the know expected, but as it says in the narrative, it's open for wandering in if you want, too!]

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"Oh yeah?" Duke tilted his head curiously. "Care to share?"

Octavia made him wait for the answer, because this clearly called for some more of that rum.

Or just for something to occupy her hands, and for a decent excuse not to be looking at him when she said, casually (or at least attempting it), "Being happy."

That was alright; Duke could be patient. He sipped his own rum and watched her as he waited, marveling that he’d found someone he liked so much, so soon after Evi. If you’d asked him when he arrived this summer, he’d have said he’d be firmly in meaningless casual sex mode right now.

Not that the wasn’t having his share of meaningless casual sex elsewhere, mind you. He was growing as a person, not turning into a monk.

“That’s a worthy goal,” he said, once she’d answered. “You let me know how I can help with that one too, yeah?”

No one expected the girl under the floor, or the effects she could have.

But Octavia wasn't really sure where the hell he'd come from, either.

"Just keep being you." Chin still mostly down, she flicked her gaze back up, but only after she'd said that. "And, you know, letting me scheme with you boat, and sometimes letting me stay over."

She said those last two things a lot more lightly.

“Any time,” Duke said. It came out much less casually than he’d intended, and he felt the need to cover. “You know, so long as she’s in port, anyway.”

He hadn’t taken her out of port in weeks.

Octavia thought as much, but he should get to cover up his sincerity just as she just had.

Of course, that meant she just ended up looking up at him with a faint smile, for a moment.

"You are, in fact, welcome to stay tonight," Duke said. "Though I doubt we'll manage to get Lucy out of here yet."

She had that whole fruitcake. Plus whatever leftovers there were from the party. And when they did get her off the boat for a night, there was definitely going to need to be food involved.

The smile got a little less faint. Still not very wide of bright, but he knew the scale she worked on.

"I think we'll be okay," she said, mostly meaning she would. Him being okay was kind of a given, seeing as he lived with Lucy. "There are doors."

"There are. And we've had many conversations about boundaries."

"So she's probably not barging in on any 'merry Christmas' kisses," Octavia deduced, reaching for his free hand after some very slight hesitation.

Duke let her, giving her fingers a little squeeze once she got there. "Not on purpose. I threatened to cut off her noodle supply. She's . . . extremely food motivated."

Octavia rubbed her thumb against the side of his hand, like a quiet hello, or a token of appreciation.

And she snorted. "Getting her off the boat is going to involve something non-non, right?"

"Nah," Duke said. "It's going to involve a lot of non-non. Also possibly shiny things."

"Magnus and I made decorations for the tree out of tinfoil," Octavia shared, "but I doubt that kind of shiny will do."

"I don't know, it might." Duke shook his head and shrugged. "She's got some kind of, like, stash of pearls hidden away, the nicest I've ever seen, but she also thinks the people on the TV are real. It's hard to tell where her taste level is."

Octavia hummed thoughtfully, with a quick glance over in Larceny's general direction.

"I can't even tell the difference between, like... tinfoil and gold." Physically and visually, yes. But as far as worth went? That aspect had to just be learned. "What else does she like?"

"Um." Duke frowned. "I've been living with her for weeks, I should know this. . . . She's -- just really into food. And . . . learning? Maybe?"

Octavia made a quietly amused noise. "It's a start," she said. "Learning, food, those are both pretty big things. Here, especially."

She'd know.

It really was hard not to just assume that she had a similar upbringing to Octavia's. Especially after their conversation about loneliness the other day.

"You should hang out with her sometime, maybe. I bet she could use a perspective like yours."

Or . . . any that wasn't Duke's, really.

"Mm, one that's also struggling to adapt?" Octavia guessed, wryly, and shrugged one shoulder. "Let's see how talking to her while we both actually speak the same language goes, first."

She wondered about the first impression she'd made.

"Someone who's been there," Duke said. One of the big reasons he and Rey got along so well was because they'd both recognized past experiences in the other, after all. "But yeah, fair enough. And hey, if you make a good impression, that'll make it easier to lure her away later."

"She thought we were going to eat the guard," Octavia drawled.

But apparently violence made people on TV into heroes, so she was going to be okay.

The Cape Rouge, Port of Fandom, Christmas Eve

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