fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

Well. Octavia was feeling more things than she had been on Sunday. That was probably good, even if it made Octavia feel (irony) like she would rather have been feeling much less than she was. Not that she really knew how to feel about the weekend yet. Too messy. Too --

Too much.

(The knowledge that they'd come back on Bellamy's birthday was a dull hole in the middle of her chest like it always was.)

She'd skipped therapy on Tuesday, on an excuse, feeling unable to even talk about any of it just yet. And too tired to feign that there was nothing to talk about. Instead, today in particular, she was feeling the call of the woods something fierce, but she was also not convinced Lucifer wouldn't freak out about it if she went out there right now.

Even coming out to work seemed like pushing it, somehow, but there she was. Wearing the new raccoon shirt Duke had gifted her last week (felt like months ago), because it drew attention away from the bandage around one of her arms, and covered up the rest of what was still healing.

She was on her phone, googling 'things to make you happy in ireland'. The bar on what would make for a good late birthday present trip for Duke was on the ground, now.

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Mod Tiny or talk to Octavia, your choice.

At least they hadn't had to start digging yet?

(They might end up having to start digging.)

Duke wandered into the bar not long after her shift started, having decided his boat was too quiet (and still resisting the urge to just try and sail off over the horizon and never see anyone ever again). He had his own bandage still wrapped around his arm, though his was covered by the shlubby old-man sweater he was somehow wearing despite it being about a million degrees with a billion percent humidity outside.

"Hey."

"Hey," Octavia replied, looking up at the sound of his voice.

Her own sounded tired, but also softer than it would've for most people.

Duke slouched onto a bar stool.

"I haven't really asked. You . . . dealing?"

Asking if she was 'okay' was silly. But that didn't mean he shouldn't find a way to check in anyway, right? (Plus, it made a nice distraction from his own . . . dealing.)

Octavia inhaled through her nose, and attempted a wry tone. (She didn't quite make it.)

"Would you at least like a drink with plunging right into the deep end?"

"I'll have whatever you're having."

She being the pro these days on taking meds. (He was being good and still taking his. Though it took some extra effort the last few days to remember.)

Octavia gave a tiny, one-shoulder shrug. "Well, we have some nice fake brandy, for mocktails," she said. "But I think I'm more in the mood for apple soda."

She was, in fact, already reaching for two bottles of it.

"Sounds good," Duke said, nodding.

Telling himself he didn't wish it was an actual cider.

It was a sour green apple soda, very little like a cider.

As he was about to find out as Octavia opened one of the bottles and slid it in front of him on the bar. "Cheers," she said as she opened the other one.

Duke huffed a soft laugh through his nose when he saw the bottles.

"Cheers," he agreed, and lifted his bottle in a little toast. He took a sip.

Now he wished it had vodka in it.

Sorry, Duke, Octavia had been feeling rotten enough these past few days even without adding alcohol into things.

She took a little sip of her own.

Sighed. "I'm not great."

Duke nodded, unsurprised. (She got no judgement for the drink choice. He was just a little sad that he was trying not to drink as much anymore.)

“It was all . . . a lot.”

It had been so much.

"A lot," Octavia agreed.

Seriously, she'd played it all over in her head several times just to try and figure out how it could only have been a weekend.

"Too much, some might say."

"That's Haven for you." Duke rubbed his jaw. "I guess especially when you've managed to avoid it for awhile."

"A year, this time."

A year in which they'd been trying to make progress, especially recently. Octavia hesitated to even think about what all this was going to do to that.

"Guess it was bound to come for us again."

". . . Yeah."

Duke managed to bite down on the urge to apologize. Or blame himself out loud.

It was a close thing though.

He was still saving Octavia from the bother of pointing out to him that that wasn't really how it worked.

"But maybe it'll be another year, now."

She wasn't sure she believed that.

“Yeah, somehow that doesn’t really feel like it’s better.”

"Well, we're not there today," Octavia rasped, "and that has to count for something."

“You have a point there,” Duke admitted, pointing at her with his bottle.

At least around here no one had thrown himself on a knife Duke happened to be holding!

A clear pro, to be sure.

"I do my best," Octavia drawled. It was wry if you really strained your ears. "With what little we have going for us."

“Now you’re just depressing me.”

He didn’t need help being depressed, Octavia.

For back office things.

Oh boy I am tired.

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