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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

There was an almost comical amount of 'blood' splattered all down the front of Octavia's shirt. She was... choosing to pretend she didn't even notice it. Or pretending it wasn't there. It wasn't going very well, what with the sweet smell of syrup constantly wafting up to her nose.

She had vastly enjoyed yesterday better. Just sitting on the deck of the Rouge and getting swarmed with cats? Bliss. This? Not so much.

Regardless, the club was open. And Octavia was behind the bar, looking up cocktails with the strongest scents.

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Talk to Octavia or mod Tiny, your choice!

"That makes me feel a bit better about mine," Irene commented as she wandered in and took a seat at the bar with a nod to Octavia's shirtfront.

She had something vaguely ketchuppy splattered across her own black-clad chest, and had chosen whining and pouting about the stains over ignoring them. Much better approach, she felt.

"It's going around," Octavia rasped, with the barest glance down at her own shirt. (Simply because there was no point in looking at it any longer than that. Right?) "Hey, Irene."

"Octavia," she returned with a bright smile. "How are you, other than covered in -- what's yours? Syrup, maybe?"

She would have preferred the syrup over the ketchup, just to say. The smell was more appealing (though would have gotten to her eventually, anyway.)

"Probably," Octavia replied with the tiniest shrug. "Smells sweet." That was about the extent to which she'd studied the stains, yes. "I'm fine."

But also knew she should probably elaborate that with... something.

"My birthday was a couple of weeks ago. Other than that it's been quiet."

"Happy belated birthday!" Irene actually clapped her hands with delight, then caught herself. "Unless you don't like your birthday. I'm not over-fond of mine. But it's nice to have an excuse to be celebrated, yeah?"

Octavia seemed like the sort of person who did not naturally celebrate herself on the regular, if Irene had to guess.

Octavia had not really considered herself worth celebrating for many years, now. And even hearing it put like that was kind of weird for her, so...

"We went to a camping place in Maine," she offered, side-stepping the question entirely.

The side-step was noteworthy in itself, of course, and filed away carefully.

Along with the we -- though it was also hardly surprising -- because that sounded like other parties certainly felt that Octavia was worth celebrating even if she did not, and Irene could appreciate that, too.

"You are a hardier woman than I," she commented lightly (and truthfully), lifting an eyebrow. "Though I'm sure you loved it. Did you camp while we were off in France?"

Octavia's own eyebrows went up, but only a little bit.

"Is that another one of those school things?" she asked. "The guys aren't teaching right now, so I never really know when those are happening."

"Oh, neither of them?" Irene asked, brows lifting. "Yeah, we went to France, sailed the Seine for a week. I tagged along as Jon's plus-one -- haven't taught in years, though I do keep thinking about getting back into it for the free holiday if nothing else."

But then she'd have to teach (which she didn't mind.) And chaperone prom and things (which she also didn't mind, much.) It would all cut terribly into her lying-on-the-sofa time, though.

"Is it really worth it?" Octavia wondered.

Not that she didn't see value in teaching - she very much did. But when 'for the free holiday, if nothing else' entered into it...

"It's really quite a trip, every time," Irene commented, but the way she pursed her mouth and shrugged probably spoke to her next statement even before she said it. "But it's also much nicer to go as the plus-one and not feel like I'm supposed to care what the kiddies are doing."

She was fairly she she hadn't seen or talked to a single student the whole time, and that had been much better than feeling responsible for their whereabouts at the detriment of her own vacation.

"So basically... you could just go on trips by yourself?"

Please do not talk to her about the money of it all.

"Of course, but it's the company," she explained, smiling a little cryptically and tossing off a little wink. "Not all of us are so lucky as to be able to just go on holiday with the objects of our affections, Octavia. These school trips help -- wingwoman for me a bit."

Read: Irene had a crush, and sometimes these trips worked out in an only one bed kinda way. And sometimes even better than that.

Octavia let that sit and process for a beat, only to come to a conclusion:

"That sounds way too complicated."

Irene gave a little shrug of acknowledgement, because she was not wrong.

"Sometimes it's fun to make it complicated," she offered. "Which isn't to say I don't love when it's not."

She needed to hit up Margo, really, speaking of uncomplicated.

"In my experience," Octavia drawled, "things get complicated on their own. You don't usually need to help it along."

Or maybe that just her, and the messiness that had seemed to find her just fine often enough in her life.

"I am working on that," Irene assured her, her grin a little less reserved and a little more self-deprecating. "But if you'll believe it -- I'm not the one complicating things, this time. I'm just...playing the game. Following her lead."

She made a face, because Octavia, really. Did she seem like someone who liked following?

Not particularly, no.

"That makes a little more sense, I guess," Octavia allowed. (She would not be touching the 'game' part of the statement, because she had her associations with that.) "That maybe it's not on purpose."

"It's a little bit on purpose," Irene replied, thinking about it. "The trick is that I haven't figured out why yet. There's this whole push-and-pull bit to it."

Though lately it was a lot more pull.

"So -- she won't come on holiday with me if invited, I'm sure," she noted, "but if we happened to find ourselves on the very same romantic French vacation, for work...c'est la vie, you know?"

"You're sure?" Octavia couldn't help asking. "Kind of sounds like you haven't tried to."

Not that that was really here or there.

"But it makes the school trip sound convenient, yeah." She turned her gaze to the clean glasses, grabbing one. "Was it good?"

You know, when you put it like that, there was a certain appeal to being forthright about things. The trick was that Amaya tended to retreat when Irene was too bold.

But then -- this thing where she was mirroring Irene's flirting back at her was also enough of a change to form that maybe it was worth revisiting old strategies, too.

"It was lovely. Very historical," Irene answered easily. "We hardly spent any time in the cities, which was nice for me because I actually learned. How was camping?"

Other than, you know, terrible. But she was willing to concede that there were people -- like Octavia, it seemed -- who might actually like nature to that degree.

"It was good," Octavia said, because she was absolutely one of those people. "Lucifer tried to get a little too fancy with it and kind of struggled, but other than that, it was..."

She trailed off, as she filled her glass with soda. Her voice... maybe getting a little softer.

"It was good."

"Lucifer and I probably have a touch of common ground there," Irene noted, nestling her chin in her hand and taking in that maybe-softness. "He adapted?"

If it had been good, then it must have gone all right in the end, even if initial forays into fanciness hadn't proved successful.

"He tends to remember eventually that sighing about something someone else likes doesn't make for much of a birthday present."

So, yes.

Octavia paused, and glanced at Irene over the edge of the glass she was now bringing up. "He does his best."

It was all anyone could do, really.

"That's the trick, isn't it? Making the concession without complaining," Irene mused, smiling and lifting her drink ~~which she had totally ordered from Tiny omg~~ in a little toast before taking a sip. "I'm glad you had a good birthday."

Genuinely. Octavia deserved a good birthday.

Octavia gave a tiny shrug. "I'm just pleased to have made it to another one."

As dry and deadpan as that sounded, there was more than just a sliver of truth to it, too. The past couple of years had not been easy.

This would probably be a bad day to get injured there.

Possibly empty, possibly not.

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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

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