The Docks

*A large map of the town is spread open over Eridan's war table, little miniatures and purple flags placed in strategic locations or toppled and scattered around at random. A sizable portion of the map is currently obscured, as the lightly snoring seadweller is using it as a somewhat less comfortable substitute for a pillow*

*A muffled beeping from his sylladex, indication of messages received, disturbs his slumber and he uncaptchalogues his new phone into his hand. Blinking away the sleep, Eridan lifts his head to see who is trying to reach him*

Show Pesterlog:

*Eridan breathes in deeply, the extra oxygen bringing a sharpness to his thinkpan that ensures he is indeed well awake
oh god
He's going to fall ass backwards into some more emotional theatrics isn't he? There's an entire orchestra's worth of alarm bells ringing in his head warning him about the various ways this could somehow end up even more disastrous than their last exchange.
No, no, no, calm down. She called out to him. She needs him...platonically of course.
Now is the time to put aside past grievances and bond over the death of a mutual friend. ...Friend slash associate. ...Slash co-troll. Whatever.
Point is Feferi is very emotionally susceptible right now and if this is his chance to get started on recovering some of the scorched remains of this particular bridge then he'd take it.

He gracefully decided to drop the grudge he held for slapping him in the face*

Show Pesterlog:

*He goes trough his standard morning routine as fast as he can, thinking about possible ways the conversation could go and what either of them could say. Should he buy her something? No, she wouldn't care for it and it'd just make his intentions seem ignoble.
Rushing out of the door, he swore in the name of whatever was listening this whole thing better  not have them end up as moirails somehow*