fandomtownies | The Perk, Monday Morning

Mondays could feel very much like Mondays, sometimes, even for people like Octavia who'd never had much reason to think all days of the week weren't created equal. Maybe it was just because she'd slept like shit last night, tossing and turning and just generally unable to stop her mind from looping in on itself with cyclical thoughts of the ground, of space, of people left behind.

The price for having actually thought about her past a little bit lately was that sometimes she couldn't stop even when she wanted to.

So she'd got up early and gone on her usual patrol of the island. And it had done what it was supposed to, which was to clear her head a little and give her room to breathe. The sun had come up during her trek, but it still wasn't very late in the morning at all by the time she'd circled back to the Perk for a PSL. Usually, she would've gone back to the apartment for coffee, but... She felt like she had to give the claustrophobia of the night a little longer to pass. And so instead, she took a seat by the window.

And then immediately realized she didn't really know how you were really supposed to be in coffee shops, alone. Every other ~~NPC~~ customer seemed to be on their phones, but she hadn't taken Bellamy's with her because -- well, because that just wasn't the kind of thing that really occurred to her. Until just now. So guess she was just going to watch the street while she drank her coffee, maybe in bigger gulps that was really necessary or even smart.

She should've brought a book.

[ooc: Post is open for all your morning coffee/Octavia needs!]

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"You know sounding like you isn't the worst thing, right?" Duke asked. "You're just . . . reserved."

That was a very polite way to put it.

And he was getting one of those 'really, now' looks from her for it.

"From my mouth, it isn't," she allowed. Because, despite how she'd started to wonder if there was still something left of that girl who'd stepped out of the dropship drunk on feeling free, this wasn't some self-loathing thing. "From yours, it's a little concerning."

". . . Fair." Duke shoved his hair back, maybe eyeing her braids a little as he did. It was very strange to suddenly have to deal with quite this much of it. "I am usually a bit more -- boisterous than that."

"You are," Octavia replied, in turn watching him shove at his hair. Maybe thinking something she wasn't sure was dumb or not.

(Along with more socializing had come more moments of self-doubt. She was used to just barreling through everything, otherwise.)

"So this is upsetting the balance."

Duke smiled a little at that. "I'll be sure to be more careful, then."

He would very happily adjust to make the people he actually liked comfortable. Even when he himself was deeply uncomfortable. Possibly especially then, in fact. . . .

"You really don't have to," Octavia said. In fact, pretty much immediately. "It's the island's doing, so it's for the island to fix. Not you."

She was an expert on repression, and had kind of a long history with people dear to her trying to fake things for her perceived benefit. She was not a fan.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to freak other people out."

"I'm not freaked out," Octavia replied. "I'm concerned for you. There's a difference."

Duke sipped his coffee and decided not to argue.

"So. This'll be, what, a couple days, right?" He attempted to subtly adjust his sports bra. And failed. "I can handle anything for a couple of days."

Thems were fighting words. . . .

"A couple of days usually, yes," Octavia replied, back to mildness. Still watching him like she was thinking something she wasn't saying. "So at least it's not a week-long invasion or something."

That statement wasn't going to age well.

". . . I'm still not used to how casually people around here talk about invasions."

"It's an unfortunate side effect of getting invaded so often."

Dry as a desert, that one.

"Yep," Duke said. "Not used to that, either."

"Would it be mean to say 'you get used to it'?" Octavia asked.

Before immediately reconsidering with a glance aside, brow furrowing.

"Actually, it'd be a lie anyway," she said as she looked up again. "I'm not even 'used to it', I'm just used to talking about it."

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't have believed you anyway. Getting used to talking about it, that I'll buy."

"I think just accept that it's a thing that happens," Octavia guessed, shrugging. "Like I accept that sometimes it rains jello --" She wasn't convinced some of it wasn't still somehow in her hair. "-- even if that makes no sense, or like I'm accepting that you looked entirely different the last time I saw you."

"I swear there's still jello stuck to the Cape Rouge's hull," Duke grumbled. He looked down at himself. "It's kind of hard to deny when it's actually happening to you."

"Makes it real, doesn't it?"

Tangible evidence was like that.

She sighed, though it was very quiet. "Also, if I was used to this, I think I would know how to make it easier for people who weren't," she continued, a little more subdued. "Which would probably mean I wouldn't be sitting here unable to come up with any offers to help except braiding your hair, so at least it wouldn't be in your face all the time."

Duke smiled again. "You want to braid my hair?"

He was not saying no.

It was a physical thing with a tangible result. She liked those.

"I guess I do." Felt weird to say, though. "Yeah."

And it'd give him something to focus on that wasn't too different from his normal body.

"I mean. That could be fun. . . ."

"It would be," Octavia told him, with a lopsided ghost of a smirk sort of building up on her face. "And I know people in this time think going to hair places is fun, so I'm not saying that just because I think you deserve some fun."

"I do deserve some fun," Duke said. He was maybe starting to feel that whiskey. "Maybe tonight?"

[since he's already leaving with Jack. . . .]

Whiskey made everything better, clearly.

"Sure," Octavia said. "Do you want to come by the apartment? We're at the MCA, number nine."

"I don't know," Duke said, amused. "Is your brother going to let me in?"

He blinked.

"Oh shit. Is your brother all . . ." He gestured vaguely around his face. ". . . Too?"

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