My unicorn got run over by a tractor

Fandom made for an excellent home base when it came to hiding out from the authorities, and had proven to be -- educational, if nothing else. But Duke had job offers piling up and a reputation to maintain, so with the school closed down for a week, it was time to head out and do his actual work for awhile. And if one of those jobs happened to involve a delivery up near Halifax, with Haven on the way. . . .

It took him a bit longer than usual to get the Cape Rouge in shape for more than a day trip. He'd been busy on the island the last couple weeks and hadn't taken her out for more than a few hours at a time. And what with the chaos of last week and the whole new wardrobe he'd started building for his femme-shaped body, he had a bit of packing to do. And of course there were porgs to evict.

So many damn porgs to evict.

"Okay, seriously, I'm not letting you immigrate to 2008," he said, shooing a little family of four down his gangplank. "Fish and Wildlife would lose their shit. And those guys already have enough issues. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. Shoo!"

This was making it much harder to pull his usual disappearing act. For better or for worse.

[open, if anyone's heading by at, like, dawn. Duke's going off island for the break week, like the little wanderlust-filled kitten he is]

Duke's "use the time difference to instantly age liquor" scheme had not worked. Apparently the Baltimore on the other side of the causeway wasn't quite the same Baltimore that he could sail to from Fandom's port. Which was terribly disappointing, as it meant any, say, winning lottery numbers he tried to pick up probably also wouldn't do him any good. And, like, what was the point of traveling through time if you couldn't make money off of it? Come on!

He was no stranger to disappointment, though. After a quiet morning spent fishing (out past where he'd worked out the line between 2019 and 2008 likely was, where he could be reasonably certain nothing he caught would turn out to be sapient), he was feeling pretty good, lounging on his deck, a couple fresh-caught sea bass chilling in a cooler, strumming his ukelele.

He was starting to enjoy this quiet little island. The locals were friendly, if a little bizarre; his class was fun -- though really, how did all of them end up doing that worksheet?!; the weather was frankly gorgeous; and best of all, no one had tried to arrest or kill him in weeks.

Oh yeah. He could definitely get used to this.

[because of course Duke plays the ukelele. Open deck = open post!]