The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

[okteiviakom]

Octavia was not at the axe range, this week. She was behind the bar.

But the axes were spread out in front of her on the bar. She suspected they hadn't necessarily seen a whole lot of maintenance over the years, and, well, she had the time and some of the skill. And no, she would not be lobbing them at anyone.

Odds were she was going to be unnecessarily truthful, however. She hadn't had enough conversations in her day just yet to have caught on to what day it was.

[ooc: Annnnnd open.]

Comments

[my_own_advocate]

"Looking lovely and intense behind the bar as always, darling," Lucifer said, as he entered. "But should I worry about the way you're eyeing those axes?"

The chance of him catching on to what day this was, was low.

[okteiviakom]

"Not unless you plan to have issues with me showing them some care," Octavia drawled, looking up.

[my_own_advocate]

"Oh, are we oiling them up?" Lucifer asked, stopping in front of the bar. "Don't let me stop you, then."

[okteiviakom]

"I don't think we will be doing anything, since I don't think spectating counts," Octavia replied, picking up one of the axes. "Anyway, I'm gonna make sure the blades are clean, first."

[my_own_advocate]

"So fastidious," Lucifer said, sighing, as he leaned over the bar. "Can I have a scotch, first?"

[okteiviakom]

"Sure," Octavia replied. She turned towards the bottles without setting the axe aside again, of course. She could juggle multiple things (except not literally). "I'd ask for your preference, but it's the fanciest one."

[my_own_advocate]

"You do know me," Lucifer chuckled. "I do continue to hate that axe range, though, but I can't deny you look pretty when you're buffing crude metal."

[okteiviakom]

"Yeah," Octavia agreed, as she picked up the fanciest scotch, "I know you dislike a lot of things I like."

[my_own_advocate]

"Well, yes," Lucifer said, taken aback a bit. "As you dislike a lot of things I like."

[okteiviakom]

"Well, some of the things you like are wasteful."

... Okay, as accurate as that was, it gave Octavia pause to hear it.

She frowned.

"I didn't mean to say that."

[deathtofrendo]

And here was Quinn, in much the same situation of not realizing what day it was.

She was pretty honest in general, though. Mostly through not really caring what most people thought about . . . anything, really.

She was kind of starting to care about what this random lady who thought she looked like her daughter thought, though. Which was weird. And why she found herself drawn back here again.

"Hi," she said, coming up to sit down across from Octavia at the bar. "You're not planning to throw those from here, are you?"

[okteiviakom]

Well, at least Octavia's face still kept things to itself even if her mouth didn't. She watched the girl walk in and didn't look any more wary than usual.

(She knew what day it was, by now. She had no idea how this would play out.)

"No," she said. "I'm good at throwing weapons, but I'm not that good. This is just maintenance."

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn nodded, just a quick up and down of her chin. "It's important to keep your weapons maintained," she said. She wasn't sure why -- it was kind of inane. But it wasn't weird enough to really clue her in about anything just yet.

[okteiviakom]

"It is," Octavia agreed. She turned one of the axes over on the counter, assessing how the handle looked after oiling. "And I'm not sure anyone else who works here really cares about it."

Well, Thor might, but she hadn't met him.

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn's eyes were glued on Octavia's hands on the ax as she handled it, but she wasn't really seeing them at all.

She was seeing Johnny D. Hearing the sucking sound in his chest when he tried to talk to her.

"I don't like ax throwing."

She hadn't really meant to say that.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia didn't lift her chin, but her eyes flicked up to Quinn's face.

(It would've been easy, right now. To ask why.

But she wouldn't have wanted anyone to do that to Rory.)

"No one's going to make you," she said. A little more quietly.

[deathtofrendo]

"But you don't have to be this anymore."

Suck.

"You can stop and go home."

Quinn looked up at her, expression dark.

"I don't like axes being thrown."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia's gaze met hers, steady and unreadable.

"No one's going to do that, either," she said. And, also: "Do you want me to take them away?"

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn wasn't about to say --

"Yes."

Oh. Apparently she was about to say that.

". . . I didn't mean to say that."

She was starting to get concerned.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia didn't look surprised. At either part.

"Mm." She began to collect the axes together, looking down at them -- almost as if she was giving the girl privacy for the next thing she was about to say. "It's one of the island's tricks," she said. Low and raspy and steady. Mild. "It'll wear off by tomorrow, or at least it usually does."

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn let out a hard breath through her nose.

"What will wear off?"

She'd been lucky so far -- or may had laid low enough. She hadn't been hit by a whole lot of island weirdness to date.

[okteiviakom]

"The island making you tell the truth."

And that was all the axes. Octavia stepped out from behind the bar, with the intention of taking them back to the range.

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn watched her. Thought about all the truths she preferred not to share, even before the first massacre.

"Why?"

[okteiviakom]

"I don't know," Octavia said. "But I won't judge if you decide to bail."

And she was giving Quinn a moment to make her choice on that now, by actually heading to the axe range for a moment.

[deathtofrendo]

Quinn considered it. She went as far as to get off her stool and stand.

"You're not oversharing," she noted. "There's a way around it."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia set the axes where they belonged, careful and mindful about it, before she turned around and shrugged.

"Because being honest isn't the same as oversharing." Which was true, but so was this: "And also I've had a lot of practice in my life in keeping things to myself."

[deathtofrendo]

"Like --" your friend taking an ax that was thrown at you "-- what?"

Asking questions seemed helpful to avoid the trauma-dumping.