If I may play the me's advocate for a moment...

Life appeared to have settled some on the Rouge - and in the mansion, where a great deal of conversations had taken place over the last few weeks. Lucifer, for his part, rather enjoyed the calm-- the heavy burden of foreboding and tension had lifted entirely from his shoulders.

It had been, he had to admit, quite a while since the last time he felt that way.

And so he found himself out on the deck surprisingly early, wrapped in an incredibly thick and clearly expensive blanket, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate, feeling all right with the world.

In fact, he might have even been humming one of the classics under his breath.

[[ expecting one, but open! ]]

It was Valentine's Day, and there was one person aboard the Cape Rouge hokey enough to make a big deal of it-- Lucifer Morningstar, who may have spent the past night surreptitiously making chocolates.

Shh.

He had then spent the morning making brunch, shooing everyone who dared to venture into the kitchen outside (or in). And his flower orders hadn't even arrived yet. Or the portal to the Bahamas.

Either way, he was finally done, their dining table covered in edible flowers and fruits and chocolates and entirely too many brunch items for all three of them to eat in a single sitting. "You can come in now!"

Lucifer Morningstar did not ever do anything by halves.

[[ for them ]]

Duke had been at the diner, Octavia had been at... wherever she was to deal with her feelings, Lucifer hadn't checked in at least five hours, and Lucifer was--

Well, he was fine. So he was cooking.

A large vegetarian spread of Lebanese foods, to be exact. He was almost done, half of his carefully-cooked food already spread across a table in the galley, awaiting his partners to return. As for Lucifer? Well, he was still in the kitchen area in his 'The Devil is in the De(a)tails' apron, juggling stews.

They could likely eat this for weeks.

[[ open for them who doth live here ]]

The nice thing about living on a boat, Lucifer reflected, was the amount of time you could spend sitting on the deck, sipping wine, and still technically be within the confines of your house. And yes, he did still think it might be useful if they just added an entire penthouse floor to the Rouge, but at least he could contemplate this completely rational suggestion while sitting in a nice breeze.

It was going to be even warmer soon. That would also be nice.

He took another sip of his red wine, stretched his legs out until his feet landed on another chair, and let out a soft sigh.

Somewhere in some realm connected to his own, butterflies spewed forth into a tiny garden, bringing with them a scent of floral perfume, and wine flowed down a small canal from a waterfall that, until moments ago, had produced only water.

Lucifer was not aware of any of that.

[[ open! ]]

On the one hand, it took a ridiculous amount of sex pollen before it did anything to Lucifer; it'd be days before he felt a thing. On the other hand? He knew what sex pollen smelled like.

In fact, it was enough to wake him early that morning. He sat up in bed. Squinted. Tilted his head.

"Duke? Octavia?"

[[ for them ]]

Sunday had been Date Night for Lucifer and Octavia, as always. On Monday, Lucifer had gotten it into his head he wanted to do something for Duke. 'Something' had turned out to be a nice home-cooked meal and some time out on the water.

And while Lucifer had contemplated taking the show to his house, as he did with Octavia-- something within him had craved... well, this.

The gentle sway of the water beneath the boat - permanent background radiation now of his life - lulling him into an easy calm as he flopped over onto his back on the bed, still catching his breath. "I can't believe how much I like this bed," he mumbled, inanely.

He'd make sense of it in a moment.

[[ for him ]]

It was a special day. A day of terrible taste and incredible entertainment value. A day of memories.

And one whopper of a distraction from the past months' drama.

"Oh, Eurovision," Lucifer sighed, as he sank down into a booth in the galley. He had a large laptop screen set up, and a truly massive bowl of popcorn. And drinks, of course. Couldn't handle this without drinks. "The most entertaining form of warfare invented in the 20th century."

He pulled out his phone, checking the bookies one more time. "Time to drop some more cash on the Norwegian banana-eating wolves..."

[[ can be open for all who might venture onto the Rouge. Mostly: Eurovision! ]]

Octavia's return on Thursday had been explosive, at first, but it had eventually resolved itself into a detente that had lasted the whole weekend. There had been no more loud arguments, no prodding at each other's sore spots; just a very careful brand of being together, each person nursing their own worries, their own guilt, and their own affection.

But now it was Monday, and Lucifer-- wanted something happier. Just for a moment. Even if he had to wring it out of this bloody vegetarian curry all by himself.

"If you want dessert for an appetizer, cake's ready!" he called, as he put the thing on the table and hurried back to the stove.

He hadn't informed anyone they'd be having an elaborate Thai dinner, no. Sometimes, an angel just had to do something.

[[ can be open for phone calls, interaction with Tavi and Duke comes last. ]]

If there was such a thing as 'critical limit of things to process', Lucifer had hit it sometime yesterday. He had a child, apparently, and his partners doing their best to accomodate her while struggling not to fall apart, and he was still trying to figure out how on Earth it could even happen to him.

So he'd decided to do better today. To try and entertain her, and make sure she knew he wasn't-- that he wouldn't just drop her on someone else and ignore her.

"How about we play some music?" he'd asked. And Aurora had gotten a look on her face.

They'd wound up on the deck, him with a guitar, her with Duke's ukelele that she had insisted on getting and he couldn't stop her from getting because she knew exactly where it was.

It had been nice. Oddly enough.

But now he had retreated to the back portion of the deck with his coffee. Rory was perched on the railing of the ship, looking out over the coast of Fandom, and... still playing that damned ukulele.

[[ open for boat dwellers and passers-by alike! ]]

Right, so Lucifer was getting up bright and early so he could prepare himself for the trip to Baltimore - possibly with Duke - to escape this caffeine-free, zero-alcohol hell-hole. Bright and early enough that both of his partners were still asleep.

Or Octavia was faking it. Or just not bothering to get up. Who even knew?

"Oh my me," he whispered to himself in the kitchen. The bourbon looked... normal? He took a swig. It was normal.

He swept away immediately to get the coffee going, and twenty minutes later--

"Who wants an Irish coffee?!"

--burst back into the bedroom.

[[ for duke, and for octavia if she wants to jump in too ]]