My unicorn got run over by a tractor

Duke had plans to take Rey out on the water today, to show her the coastline and maybe teach her how to fish if they found a good spot. Even though he'd just gotten back from a trip on Monday, there was still some prep work to do on the Rouge to make sure she was ready to head out again. Boats like this one took a lot of upkeep and maintenance to keep them running happily and only looking like they might fall apart if they were hit by a medium-sized wave.

It was a nice day for it, at least. Bright and sunny and warm enough to work shirtless. Which was good, because getting grease stains out of fabric was a pain in the ass.

"Don't give me that look," he told Polly as he checked the oil reserves. "I'm not going to shoo you off this time."

Polly stuck close to his heels, clearly not believing a word of it. He would not be abandoned again!

[mostly for the one mentioned, but open before that. Slowplay advisory is in effect, because this week would have been crazy even without a visit from a horseman of the apocalypse]

It'd been a cool and wet day again, today, which -- since the damp wasn't coming from being trapped in a sinking ship, even an imaginary one -- was just fine with Duke. Since apparently certain parts of him had decided to go into overdrive today and all.

Then, of course, he'd gotten into a text conversation with Octavia while eating dinner under the wheelhouse overhang, and was pretty sure nothing short of a dip straight into the icy Atlantic was going to help anymore.

And this was apparently going to go on all week.

"I hate this town," he told a pair of snuggly looking nearby porgs. Then realized that they were not, in fact, snuggling. "Dammit, guys. In front of my salad?!"

It was going to be a long week.

[ooc: mostly establishy to get that voicemail link in, but also open!]

The joys of sailing in from 2008, Duke was not dealing with a giant winter storm as he made his way down the coast from Maine. The weather had in fact been perfectly fine until he crossed into Fandom waters and the first of the white flakes hit the boat. He'd had some warning about this, sort of, thanks to Octavia's voicemail, but it still took him a couple minutes to work out that it really was powdered sugar falling from the sky instead of snow.

He managed to get his boat docked without getting too much of a contact sugar high, and paused on the deck for a few moments to just watch it drift in the glow of his string lights. It didn't sparkle quite the same way a good snowfall would, but it was pretty enough in its own way, and with the hood of his slicker pulled to protect his hair, he could let himself relax for a minute and just enjoy it.

A porg landed on the deck, liberally dusted and practically buzzing like a hummingbird as it rolled around in a small sugar drift. He was going to be cleaning up tiny sugar porg prints for days. Duke watched it for a moment, then turned his face back up towards the sky, tasting sugar on his lips.

"Home sweet Fandom."

This couldn't possibly be good for the fish.

[can be open, sure!]

There was a tiny porg costume parade happening on the deck of Duke's boat.

Duke couldn't even be mad at how many more porgs had apparently moved in. He leaned back on his bench, newspaper set aside with a warming bottle of beer, recording the whole spectacle.

"This is so cute it's sickening." He zoomed in to try to get close ups of each costume. There was a bumble bee and a jackolantern. A little family of porg mariachis. A tiny devil and a fairy princess. And --

"Nope!" Duke hopped up and went to go nudge one of the porgs out of line and up onto the gang plank. "No clown costumes allowed." The porg burbled at him. "Don't give me that, Bubbles, I gotta draw the line somewhere. Go take your shame off to terrorize the lobster shack."

The other porgs had paused their parade and all peered up at him with their absurdly large, watery puppy-like eyes.

"Yeah. You see how that goes? You cross me, you get booted. Now." He sat back down and loosely described the parade path with his hand. "Carry on."

[mostly because porg costume parade! Can also be open, sure.]

Duke had decided to make the best of all this. He wasn't doing that very well yet, mind you, but he'd decided that was what he was going to do.

At the moment, that meant hanging out on his deck, waiting to see if Fjord was still coming, drinking the fanciest damn coffee he had the supplies to make.

A porg hopped up on his shoulder and attempted to eat one of the braids Octavia had put in last night. Duke pulled a pistol from under his chair.

"You do not want to cross me today, Porg."

The porg squawked and scrambled away again.

[expecting one, but also open! Thus ends today's mini-spam!]

Duke had spent most of the day yesterday -- most of his time since seeing Nathan off on Sunday, in fact -- out at sea. He'd probably still be out there if he hadn't made plans for today, both the now-usual yoga with Rey in the morning and his dinner date-thing with Jack.

Not a date-date. Jack didn't think it'd be a date-date, did she? He was pretty sure she didn't see it as a date -- she wasn't really the romance type. Not that he'd object if she did. He and Nathan weren't exactly exclusive, and Nathan was a thousand miles away, and Duke was definitely overthinking this. He wasn't sixteen anymore.

This was a casual dinner between friends. Or, alternately, an intervention. Apparently it was his life's mission to fix people with no taste for the finer things in life.

He stirred his red sauce and checked the eel on the grill. Everything was just about ready.

He propped the door open so he could keep an eye on the galley and headed out onto the deck with some beer to wait for Jack.

And kick another of those damn porg things off his ship.

[for the one mentioned in the narrative. And thus ends my mini-spam]