2019-05-15 - Killer Views

Fucking park.

Baylee is standing near the carousel, a lit cigarette hanging from her fingers, her other hand tucked into the pocket of her coat. The park is mostly empty because of the rain that falls, but she seems to be braving the chill, the rain, and the risk of getting sick from both to stare at the carousel like somehow it might have offended her at some point in her life. Recent life, too. The hand with the cigarette lifts up so that she can take a drag from it, hand shifting so that she's managing to mostly shield it from the rain with the movement.

Addington Park was a place that Byron spent a good portion of his childhood and adolescence. It brings with it a lot of memories. Yet, here is now, on his lunch break after conducting a bit of business downtown. Wearing a heavy coat over his suit and tie, a leather gloved hand lifting a cup of coffee to his lips. Apparently, coffee is considered a lunch food in his mind. The slow pace that he's walking may hint that he very well could b reminiscing on the past or... thinking on what more he has on his busy schedule, though it's probably a combination of both.

The Carousel is another fixture in town that he has memories regarding, though while he's used to seeing many a familiar face, the one standing out in the cold with the cigarette in hand is not one of them. "It's seen better days," He idly comments, his posture tall as he investigates the ride further, "But they've kept it in good enough shape all these years, I suppose."

"What?" Baylee glances over, her brows lifting upwards before she laughs, "Oh, no..." She shakes her head, if it weren't for the unfamiliar face marking her as an outsider, the accent alone would. Polished, posh, very proper British. "I wasn't even looking at it, honestly. It was just..." She waves a hand towards it, and the park surrounding it, "It was in the direction that I happened to be looking at the time." She shrugs, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards before she shifts, turning towards him.

"Baylee." The hand not holding the cigarette is held out towards him, "New to town. And you..." She tilts her head, taking in the suit and general put together look of the man, "Aren't like anyone else I've met in this town. You from around here, or you a transplant, too?"

"Ah, I thought so." Byron says with friendly ease. "I'd figured you were either reminiscing about times gone by or were admiring the whimsical nature of the carousel. Seeing as I've yet to put a name to your face, I'd deducted that you were new. To some degree." Taking a casual drink from his large cup of espresso, he quickly adds, "I would have accepted daydreaming as an answer as well."

Now with introductions being made, he extends one of his gloved hand to give hers a shake while meeting her gaze directly, "Byron." Only once the greeting is broken does he take a second long look at the aging ride, "By the accent, I would think you'd be accustomed to this dreary weather." This is followed by light laughter, his attention redirected to her, "Born and bred here if I must be honest. I am curious though, why you'd think I were a transplant as well."

"She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies." Baylee quotes with some amusement before she flicks the ashes off her cigarette, "Oh, yeah, I'm very well versed in dreary weather. You get used to it, and realize that it doesn't matter how much the sky cries on your head, you move the fuck on with your life." She winks before taking another drag from her cigarette, looking down at the ground, the mud, or maybe his shoes. "I wish that I was daydreaming, Byron. But that sounds like too polite of a way to describe what I'm out here doing, so I'll say that I was thinking very deep thoughts."

One finger points towards what he's wearing, "You don't dress like most of the others I've run into so far. Nicer. Less like you're going to get thrown to the ground by the cops, or going to begin ranting and raving about how some chick is sucking song ideas out of some dude via his cock....and works for the Illuminati or something. Or suggest rubbing someone's tattoos." There is a pointed look at the last part, "But maybe you're into all that and just dress fancier."

Amused eyes observe the woman's every expression before focusing in on her cigarette before drifting to follow the ashes that are discarded with mild curiosity. That almost ever present but faint smile on his lips, Byron decides to inform, "I lived much of my adult life in California. For college. Got back home a few years ago and it made me realize: Who needs the sun, right?" This is all spoken with wry humor.

Though something Baylee's said piques his interest somewhat, he looks down at himself when she directs his attention back on his attire. That grin growing with quiet laughter. "I went away to learn business and financing. You dress for the part, y'know." Still, the antics told to him regarding some of the others in town makes him hold that look of amusement on his features. "Yeah... Gray Harbor is an interesting place, definitely." He then comes back to something in his thoughts, "What's on your mind?"

"You certainly do look the part." Baylee agrees with a nod, glancing at the cigarette in her hand before she holds it up towards him, her brows lifting upwards in silent offer. Just a swing in the dark on the reasons for his focus on it. "I've never made it to California, this is the farthest West I've made it in the States so far, and this is...." She lifts her other hand up, actually starting to count on her fingers for a moment before she drops the hand, "It's been a week."

A week. "Interesting, yeah. You could say that your quaint little town is interesting." She seems to be at least amused by it, maybe a little charmed? Probably not charmed, really. "My mind..." She sighs, the sound exasperated and more loud than it really needs to be, "I'm waiting for a guy...he was walking his dog around here the night I got here, and I'd like to have a bit of a word with him." By her slightly icy tone it doesn't sound like the word she wants to have with him is actually going to be a very nice word. "But I'm really just loitering, because I can't even remember what he looked like at this point. It was a fucked up encounter."

"I try." Is Byron's brief response about looking the part of your typical businessman. He then lifts a polite hand when she offers him her cigarette, "Thanks. But I've got my one." That same hand pats at one of his coat pockets. "I don't tend to need a smoke unless I'm under a lot of stress and right now? Things are going as smooth as can be." Rather than enjoying the sweet taste of nicotine, caffeine is his drug of choice as he takes another warming sip from his paper cup.

"So you've been here for a week and already encountered..." He then stops to think about it, before he concedes, "That sounds about right." A lone curious look is given the not-so-stranger anymore as he tries to get a read on her by her attire and mannerism alone. This mention of a guy and his dog and the way that it's brought up brings this dark furrow to his brow, "If anyone's harassing you or giving you a hard time, don't be afraid to alert the authorities. Hell, I might even do that myself if it's warranted."

"Mmm." Baylee replies with a shrug, taking another drag from her cigarette before she drops it to the ground, grinding it right into the mud as she blows the smoke out, "I wouldn't say he was harassing me, and it's a hard thing to report if you were high and having a really bad day....and don't remember what the guy looks like." She then reaches a hand up, sliding her fingers into her hair for a moment, "'sides, believe me....I can handle one knob head all by myself."

It's dismissive, amused, but dismissive. Authorities. Hah.

"So, Byron. What is it that you're all chuffed about?" Baylee wonders, shifting the conversation easily back to what has him calm enough that enjoying a nice, quiet smoke is not in the agenda. She also gestures towards his mode of dress, "And dressed up so stylishly."

A little skeptical about Baylee's dismissal of his concern for her, Byron gives her this silent, inquisitive look, but he won't badger her about it. It really is none of his business. "Just be careful then." He offers as words of advice, "This may be a quaint little town, but even the most picturesque of places have their own little stains." Some are just better at hiding them at others.

When the conversation is returned back on him, there's a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "Nothing special, to be honest. Just a regular work day." This is followed by a quirky grin, "Even little small towns like ours have a business district where you'll find a slew of people dressed to impress." He even lifts his chin in the direction of the tall buildings in the distance, but he's sure that she'd already seen it. "I didn't get a chance to ask earlier, but what brings a Brit to a place like Gray Harbor? Work?"

"Work." Baylee agrees, or she's repeating his comment that it is just a regular work day for him. It's hard to tell since she looks towards the tall buildings that he indicates before looking back at him, "I'm a P.I." So it seems she's talking about her work, and her reasons for being here. There is not any business card that is produced, and she doesn't offer to pass over her number or anything else, either. So she's clearly shit at hunting for clients.

Instead, she reaches a hand out, fingers grasping the edge of his overcoat to give it a shake, her smile widening, "I'm not worried about the little stains around here, probably way more interested in them than I should. But I promise you, I'll be very careful, and if I'm not, then I'll put it in my will that no one can say that you didn't warn me to be nice and careful of kicking over the wrong rock. How about that?"

Byron knew that she was here for either work or a vacation, but seeing that this weather is hardly any different from what's she's used to he'd already guessed the former. What he didn't expect to hear was that this British gal was a private investigator. There's no way that he can hide just how impressed he is by her answer, his brow lifted i this look of interested surprise. "That's not something I would've pegged you for, but that also means that you're probably doing a top notch job then, huh?" He follows up with this playful wink.

In actuality, he was expecting to be handed a business card. That's just what you do! So when she reaches to lay fingers on his overcoat, at first, he thought she was about to hand him her card. So for a moment, this catches him off guard, before he spies that smile that she gives him. "Mm... Anything to make me look good." He says with a return smile of his own when she speaks of her will in humored tones. "I'm an entrepreneur myself. Got back into town and purchased an apartment building just for the income it would bring to help further fund some of my other projects."

They've been standing around the carousel for a time now. "I'm heading that way myself right now. If you're not here to make friends with the carousel and if you have the time to spare, maybe you can walk me to my car. Or vice versa."

"What would you have guessed, if you were to be forced to guess?" Baylee wonders as she lets her attention slide back towards the carousel before she shakes her head, "I'm decidedly not here to make friends with that. Not today." She drops her hand from his coat, only to tuck it into the pocket of her own coat. "You purchased an apartment building just for the income to help fund other projects?" To say she's impressed might be questionable, maybe a little impressed. But there is also a whole lot of curious that gets lumped in with it. "So what sort of projects are you funding with this apartment building income?"

There is then a tilt with her chin, "Lead on to your car. I can walk with you. Keep you nice and safe from wankers and their little dogs."

"Am I being forced to guess?" Byron asks, giving the carousel one last look before the pair of them set off down the path towards one of the exits. As they walk, he quietly considers her with an exaggerated appraising gaze, his cooling coffee still in hand. "I actually would've thought you were here for some vacay." Noting the casualness of her clothing. Dark eyes then look further down the path as he playfully throws out more ideas, "But whose to say that you're not corporate? I'm sure you have a power suit stored somewhere in your walk-in."

"And yeah. Why not? Having tenants brings in a sizable income. Though, as for my projects currently on the table, one deals with transportation and the other, some encryption app that we're working on for secure business dealings and all that jazz." While he doesn't laugh, she does bring out a smile in him when she mentions protecting him from wankers and the like. "Where'd you park? I'd hate to make you walk out this way and your car is on the opposite side of the park."

"Not at all corporate. Not at all." Baylee replies with a laugh, shaking her head quickly at that, "I've run as far and as fast from corporate life as I possibly could, much to the chagrin of my parents I'm sure." She glances down at her clothing choice, then back up, that amusement lurking in her expression as she continues, "Not some vacation, although I'm sure that there are plenty of things around here that would draw the vacationers in droves." Pause. "I just haven't seen it yet...no offense to your home, of course."

The question of where she parked causes her to shake her head once more, "I don't have a car, so there is no need to worry about where I parked. I can find my way back home by any exit we make." She glances around, trying to decide which way home is from the direction they are heading. There is a moment of quiet, thoughts rattling around in her head before she puts voice to the thoughts, "I imagine there is quite a lot of overhead cost having an apartment building, too. Repair, paying property fees, paying people to work there..."

A brief grin on his lips, Byron lazily lifts his cup of coffee to his lips for another sip. "Mm. I admit that I like being mostly independent. That said, I still need investors and that's where natural charm and charisma comes in." All of this is said in good humor, because certainly, he doesn't mean a word of it. Another look is given the young woman, once again, giving her this observant once over, "Well, there are people who enjoy a nice picturesque sleepy little town with pleasant ocean views. There's some decent bed and breakfasts around for that."

He's not terribly surprised to learn that she doesn't have a car, though to be polite, he offers, "If you want, I can drive you back home or wherever you're residing right now. Or just wherever you want to go. Just give me an address or location." The park itself is a pretty enough sight to see, despite the overcast skies. "As for keeping up maintenance of the property. Sure, but I've made some decent investments recently. Though, to be honest, this apartment building is actually one of them."

"Yes, very nice, sleepy little town with pleasant ocean views. I can see the appeal." Baylee agrees even though by her tone she might not actually see the appeal of it as a vacation destination. Despite her very clearly having come here. For some reason. Work, or the other. Something had to draw her here, and the quaint, picturesque ocean views are a reasonable way to explain it. Even if she's terrible at lying about it at the moment.

"You're welcome to take me any where you want." Baylee points out with an amused twist of her mouth before she offers a little bit of a more serious answer to the question, "If you're not busy, I wouldn't say no to a ride." Not too much more serious, though. "But that would mean you'd have to drive your probably very nice car to a shitty little trailer park, and that would probably not be the way you really want to spend your afternoon. Maybe." She glances over at him, from head to toe, then points out, "No walk in closet there, so no power suit I'm afraid. But I've a killer shoe collection."

Byron gets it. Not everyone finds a little town like Gray Harbor to be their ideal vacation destination, but he won't think badly of her for it. It's not that he wanted to return home if he could help it. "I'm not going to say that it suits everyone. I grew up here and then experienced life in the big city. You probably know which I'd prefer." Once they reach the parking area, he deposits his empty cup into one of the recycle bins, before taking out his keys from his pants pocket.

The lights on a Rolls Royce Wraith begins to blink. Looks like that's his vehicle of choice. "Huckleberry on Elm?" He does his best not to judge and perhaps, in his mind, he truly isn't. Once the doors to the car unlocks, he stands swings the passenger side door open all the while looking to see just how this Baylee from England takes to his gallantry, "Ladies first."

Most people would spot a car like that and ooh and aahhh, look terribly impressed by the very presence of it. Baylee doesn't even bat an eyelash at it, accepting that a car of this price point is just there, and she's about to get into it. "Big city life is vastly different, and I quite enjoy my big cities, too. But...." she shrugs faintly, "Sometimes you end up in a little town anyways."

When he swings the door open she glances upwards at him, one corner of her mouth curling upwards a bit before she steps towards the car, a hand reaching out to settle on the top of the door as she slides herself into the car. Judging from her expression his gallantry is amusing, well received, really. "Why thank you."

Once inside the car she reaches for the seat belt, buckling herself in as she gets comfortable, letting him close her door and waiting for any further conversation and responses till he gets into the car himself. "Yeah, the Huckleberry on Elm." She reaches for the visor, flipping it down to start checking the status of her hair in the mirror, fingers combing through the damp hair, sliding it back, tucking the strands back behind her ears, "Before you take me there, though, why don't you show me this apartment building of yours."

It's difficult to decipher whether Byron expected an awe struck reaction or even a comment regarding his ride, but he doesn't linger long and shuts her door quietly before entering the Wraith himself. Strapping in, he revs the engine up, though he does turn to find, much to his amusement, that Baylee's already taking over his car and making herself at home.

Pulling off into the street, he signals a turn when he idly comments, "You look fine., alright. No worries." Bayside isn't all that far from Addington Park, so he can't promise her a long drive, though once they hit ocean front views, it will at least be scenic. "Sure, I can arrange that. The complex isn't too far from here really. Bayside Apartments, you may've heard of it." Then to help a bit of small talk on such a short ride, he asks, "So where have you lived in the past before washing up on our sleepy town shore?"

"Just fine?" Baylee wonders with a laugh, taking a little extra time to fix her hair more, then she slides her fingertips beneath her eyes, cleaning up any mess the damp weather might have made of her makeup. Then she flips the visor back up before leaning back into the seat, legs crossing easily as she turns her attention towards him instead of the window, and any of the sleepy little town that slides past on the short drive. "Can't say that I've heard of it, but I didn't do much looking around for a place when I arrived. Someone suggested the trailers and they were enough, so I leapt onto one of the ones that were available."

There is a moment where she watches him, considering the question before she starts working backwards, "Chicago, most recently. Did a month stint in New York when I first got here, prior to that it was London. Now, do you want the list of where I went to school, because that might count as where I lived since I was residing there during school." She looks like she is fully prepared to start listing schools, and locations that they are in, if he wants to go that deep into the past.

With his eyes on the road, Byron can't help but smile along with the woman's laughter to his response just as his gloved hand turns the wheel. "So you want to play that game. Beautiful. Lovely." He spares a moment to half-turn in her direction when he says in a light tone, "Cute." He's heard girls tell him that they hated being called cute when there were so many other stronger words that he could've used. Returning his focus back on driving, he continues with his compliment, "You have this... Hmm, exotic? Or unique look to you, I think. Can't quite place it."

By now, they've reached those expensive ocean side views which sandwich them between the ocean and prime real estate. "This is what I miss most about Gray Harbor. I mean, sure, I lived in California and we can actually swim in their beaches because of good weather and things of that nature." His gaze lifts to look through his rear view mirror, before taking the moment to physically turn a look over his shoulder. "But this view. This is what I'd live for." He continues on. "We're almost there, but I don't mind if you want to spill your life story out to me." She gets another brief look, "I'm a good listener."

"Cute." Baylee seems like she's far more amused by the term than upset that he went for cute instead of something more flattering. It might be the fact that he ends up adding exotic to the mix that saves him from having her look affronted at the insult to her dignity. Or something. "You're more than welcome to keep trying to place it, but I could probably give you at least three things that might help you decide what it is about me that is unique." She then wrinkles her nose a bit, deciding then to shake her head, "Nah. You can figure it out, I've faith that you're a smart man."

When they arrive at the prime stretch of real estate she twists around to look behind them, then she nods, "There are views that you always come back to. I can see how this might be one of those situations." It's not even said begrudgingly, in fact. "Spill my whole life story? I don't think you've got the time for that....but, I went to four different boarding schools. Three of which I was kicked out of. Broadstairs and Sevenoaks, Kent. Burgess Hill, West Sussex. Then....the crowning jewel of where I was kicked out was Ipswitch, Suffolk. Location wise, at least." She shrugs her shoulders a bit, "And before you ask, no. None of them are like Hogwarts."

Byron rides this baby as if he were born to drive such a luxury vehicle. He definitely fits the part. Without even looking at her for very long, he begins with, "First, I gotta say, you have these amazing eyes. It's the first thing I'd noticed once we met face-to-face. Then there's, I don't know how to explain, but," And this when he gives her another brief studious gaze, "Your natural skin tone. I know some who would kill to reach that shade." Eyes on the road once more.

He does't say too much once she starts speaking about schools. In fact, he does't really know of many of these English schools, though he's not about to inquire about them yet. No, what gets his interest most is what had happened to her in each of these schools. "Kicked out? You? Must've been a wild child. Though, I guess I should've known. Do your parents know that you're out here by your lonesome?" He then pauses to reconsider his words, "I mean, I could very well be wrong about the last part. " It's a good thing that his apartment complex right at this corner, "Here we are. Home sweet home." Now he doesn't have to ramble on about how wrong he very well could be by his assumption. With a careful turn, he pulls into the driveway to the complex.

When he volunteers a few things that might have earned her the exotic or unique qualifier she laughs, nodding very faintly, "Both of those were on my list, yeah. The third I'd usually add to it all is the accent. I'm unable to count the amount of times I've had someone tell me that they just love my accent. Love it." She rolls her eyes faintly, turning her attention towards the window as they arrive, tilting her head as she leans in close so that she can look at the building, "You explained fine, though. Unless my gorgeous skin and eyes weren't what you were wanting to explain."

Then she glances back over at him, not missing the assumption that he's making about her, laughing, "I'm sure that my parents are well aware of where I am, and yes, I'm all out here by my lonesome. Is that a hint that beneath this very posh exterior you're secretly a serial killer that has successfully lured me to your killing grounds?" She does not appear to actually believe what she's saying. It's all a joke. A perhaps poorly chosen and stated joke, but a joke all the same.

"But kicked out. I was a very wild child...and honestly, if my father hadn't been who he was I'd never have been allowed in the second one after the first time I got kicked out. But...daddy pulled strings, and I repeated the pattern of misbehavior and rule breaking two more times." She shrugs her shoulders, smirking faintly, "But, what makes you think you should've known? Oh...no, nevermind. I know why."

"The accent did take me by surprise once you first spoke." Byron will admit, his gaze turning to survey the apartment grounds, looking out for any other cars that might be turning in the opposite direction. "This is it. Bayside Apartments. Many of our units have a sweet sweet view of the ocean. I'd done some renovation once I bought it but I'm always looking for new upgrades." He then says in a sarcastic tone, "And no, I'm not planning on upgrading just so I can jack the rent prices higher than they already are."

Turning towards one of the three ten story buildings, he drives into the parking garage to bring his car to a stop at his reserved stall. "And if I were a serial killer, it would be too late for now wouldn't it?" As he works to unbuckle his seat belt, he flashes her with smile. "I could give you a little tour before I drop you off back at home if you'd like." The sound of a quiet click is heard when the doors unlock. And no, he's not going to answer that final question of hers, but it seems like she's come to some understanding of what he'd meant. "Just try to behave and curb those wild antics of yours." He jokes. "Some of my tenants would probably complain otherwise." Once those words are spoken, he leans to the side to step out of the car.

"I wasn't about to suggest that you would." Baylee laughs at the preemptive comment, a hand lifting upwards, "But if it were my place, and I was looking to make a return on my investment...and I made upgrades? I'd want to make sure that my prices were suitably high to compensate for the money that I'd put into the place. But that's me, and that is...me not actually knowing what the prices are here. Although...I would guess pretty fucking high already."

When he pulls in and suggests giving her a tour she reaches for her seat belt, unbuckling herself as she reaches for the door, "It would be mostly too late, honestly. But you've not knocked me out, and you did just unlock the doors. So I could run." She opens the door, this time not waiting for him to come and open her door for her, climbing out to look around the parking garage, like she's measuring the distance from where he's parked to the exit. "I promise that I'll not act wild and upset your tenants. I would never want to cause you to have to deal with those kinds of complaints."

With this dark humored banter happening between the two of them, once they are both outside of his car, Byron does make this statement, "What fun would it be if I didn't give you a running start? That's not how this game plays out." The sound of the beep confirming that the Rolls is now locked, he slips his keys into his pocket, keeping that hand casually resting there for a time. Leading the way towards the elevator, he pushes the button, lighting it up.

"If your father is in such a high and mighty position that you were able to attend any good school after the first, I just gotta ask: What are you doing in the trailer park?" For a few moments after the question is posed, his eyes are kept on the light show display telling them exactly what floor the elevator car is on. It's only after a moment passes that he actually lays his eyes upon her with curiosity. As planned, a ding is heard and the doors open. He'll wait for her to enter first before stepping inside himself.

"Now that does make it a lot more of a challenge if you give me a running start." Baylee replies as she follows him towards the elevator, a hand raising to absently tuck her fingers into the front pocket of her over shirt, almost like she's going to pull out that pack of cigarettes, but she doesn't. Instead she glances down at herself, and tugs her jacket closed, buttoning it up. Probably to remove one more thing that his tenants might find to complain about if she happens to run into any of them.

"Laying low...living on the cheap. Forging my own path. Not living on daddy's dime." Baylee offers a few different options, all fairly much similar reasons. When the ding of the elevator's arrival is heard she glances up, glancing towards him for a moment before she steps into the elevator. "I try to not use their money as much as I can, it keeps them from deciding that they've some say in my life." She moves towards the back of the elevator, leaning herself against the wall, "Plus, my vanishing allows them to forget I exist."

Byron wasn't about to say anything about her appearance. Despite the big money that some of his tenants pay to live here, not all of them dressed or even looked the part With his hand out of his pocket once more, he inserts a key into the elevator panel, giving it a turn, before pressing the button to the top floor. Once that is done, the key is finally returned back to the comfortably darkness of his trouser pocket. "I'm taking you all the way up to see the best view in the building."

He keeps his focus on the rising floor count while keeping up conversation, his hands folded and hanging down before him. "Forging your own path. That's an independent thing to do. How long have you been on your own? As a... Private Investigator?" Only then does he partially turn to light his gaze on her, gracing her with a smile if she should ever look his way.

"On my own? Since I was eighteen..." There is probably a little more there than just since she was eighteen. "As a private investigator?" She glances at him, a brow lifting a bit before she laughs, "Maybe a year, I guess. I've got to go through the paper work to become licensed here, but...." She shrugs her shoulders just a bit, crossing her legs at the ankle as she lets her attention shift up towards the numbers over the door that are lighting up to announce which floor they are sliding past. "Independent thing to do. I guess, yeah. What about you...family money?"

But without waiting for the answer she pushes away from the wall she'd been leaning against to step up next to him, her hands tucking into her pockets, "Oh, the best view in the building?" She tilts her head, looking at him for a moment, amusement dancing in her eyes, "Let me guess, that's from your apartment."

"When did you decide you wanted to become a P.I.? How much fun can it really be to snoop around to find whether a person's spouse is cheating on them?" Byron asks an obvious question regarding a private investigator's main job. With a tilt of his head and a little more thought into this, he comes to this realization, "Actually, that does sound at least a little bit interesting. Beats being trapped in a cubicle all day." With his eyes on those numbers again, she can clearly see his profile and that very faint tug at the edges of his lips when she asks about his family. "Oh no. Not me. My dad was a cop. Mom, a waitress in a local diner."

It's at this moment that the elevator stop a few seconds before the doors to the penthouse slide open, allowing him, at least for the moment, to refrain from adding any further response about his family life. Stepping inside like he owned the place, which he does indeed, there's this lift of a brow when he turns back to look on her, "If you put it that way, it does sound a little sleazy." But this fades to a genuine smile, making his way towards the windows that give the best view of the ocean, "And it very might well be sleazy if it weren't true. Take a look at this." With those words, he pulls open the French doors leading to the balcony. The sky might look dark and gray, but it's still a remarkable view.

"I dated a guy, that's what he did." Baylee steps off the elevator, then stops just inside before she reaches down to tug at the laces of her shoes so that she can then toe them off, leaving them just outside the elevator so that she doesn't track in any mud as she follows him through the apartment, letting her attention stray more around the room than to where he's going. Noting the decor more than the view. At first. "I don't mind following them around all day, it pays the bills. He helped out doing lost family cases, too. Ones that the police weren't interested or able to follow up after a while...those are the harder ones. But, I ended up helping out, enjoyed it..So, decided I'm not good at anything else."

But when he pulls open the French doors her attention shifts back towards him, and the view past him. She moves past him, stepping out onto the balcony even though the sky looks dark and gray, "You're right, though." She glances at him for a moment, then moves towards the railing, resting her forearms on it as she takes in the complete view, from the ocean to the ground and to the left and right at the other buildings, "Even if it wasn't for the view, I wouldn't say it was sleazy. I imagine that there are plenty of girls that would kill to be invited up to an apartment like this."

Byron, himself, hadn't removed his shoes on entering his own abode, but he does find it amusing and yet a little humbling when she does as to not track mud into his place. Standing at the balcony now, he breathes in that sea air before making his own retreat back inside. He's seen this view so many times. He wakes up to the view of the ocean. Now, he's in the mood to pour out some drinks for both himself and his guest. "Whether they like the town or not, I'm sure there's a lot of people who would kill for that view." Nevermind girls willing to kill to just be invited up here.

Standing at the bar, he reaches for two glasses, then turns to observe Baylee at the French doors, "Have anything in mind that you'd like to drink? I know it's early, but a little glass does't hurt anyone." Even if he will be driving her home at some point. He then continues with the conversation across the room, "You dated a P.I. and got all wrangled up in that business. It's an exciting life, I gotta say. So what brought you to Gray Harbor in particular? Are you on a case? Probably one that you're not allowed to speak on." This last statement is said after a very brief pause before being drawn out in a good-humored tone.

"Yeah, there probably is a lot of people that would kill for that view." Baylee agrees as she leans out over the edge of the balcony for a moment, then she rocks herself back from the railing before turning to step back inside the apartment. "Whatever you've got is fine with me."

Regardless of the fact that he's going to be driving her home at some point she seems to be in agreement with the idea that a drink never hurt anyone. Litany of alcoholics everywhere. The coat that she'd buttoned up downstairs is unbuttoned, then she slides it off, tossing it over the back of his couch, then the surplus army shirt follows so that she's just in the tank top. "Exciting, yeah." She agrees with a laugh, "I'm not working on any case, so there isn't anything that I can't talk about, which I realize probably is a huge disappointment." She reaches up, gathering up her hair into a ponytail before she tugs a hair band from her wrist to wrap around her hair. "Not sure, honestly. Far west, promise of coastal beauty...small town. Hoping that there will be enough dirt under the surface to keep food on the table."

She lingers inside for a moment longer, arms crossing over her chest as she watches him, then she gestures towards the balcony, "Bring the drinks outside." Since he wants to show her his amazing view, she's going to take as much advantage of the time up here as she can. Which leads to her heading back out onto the balcony to lean against the rail and wait on him to bring the drinks out.

Staring at the wide variety of alcohol that he has on hand, his eyes falling on one particular bottle of whiskey. For at least a minute, Byron seems to be lost in his thoughts, before his features contort into a mild look of disgust. He chooses the Scotch, uncorking it before pouring the content into the two glasses he had reserved earlier. Calling out to the girl in his apartment once more, now that's he's regained himself, he asks with both glasses in hand, "Disappointed? Hell yeah I am. I've lived and grown up with many of these folk. If you had any dirt to dish on anybody, I'd be all ears. Let's hope you get some interesting business in this interesting town."

Making his way back out onto the balcony, his heavy coat still worn to ward off some of that chill, he has to ask, "I hope Scotch is fine for this dark day." The sounds of the waves are almost soothing to him, the view as well. Yet, there's still something that makes him uneasy. It comes to him sometimes when he's daydreaming and staring off into the void that is the ocean.

"You probably know more about the dirt on people here than I do." Baylee points out as she straightens up from where she'd been leaning on the railing, reaching for one of the glasses in his hands, "Scotch is just fine with me." It's an assurance that is accompanied by a smile, her other hand rests on the balcony railing as she watches him, perhaps picking up a bit on his unease. "I imagine that the storms are amazing from up here..." There is a slight look out towards the ocean, a moment taken to actually visualize what that might look like.

"Penny for your thoughts?" One hand moves, a finger sort of vaguely waving at his face, not really furthering the thought of her own that skitters through her mind. Instead she reaches for her shirt pocket, only to remember that she took it off and that means that her cigarettes are inside. The hand instead changes direction to settle on her jaw, fingers sliding slowly against it, entirely like this was what she meant to do in the beginning. Not at all the slightly nervous fidgeting of someone that doesn't always know what to do with their hands.

Cracking a smile, Byron says with the lightest hint of laughter in his tone, "Maybe at one time I did, but I've been gone for several years. And while the town still feels the same as it always did, I'm sure people change." Once the glass is handed over, he takes a savoring sip of his own Scotch, stepping in close to the rail so that he can lean his tall frame against it as well. "Storm are amazing from this view alright. On nights like this, when the sky is completely dark, the clouds so thick that they practically swallow up the light of the moon, it's easy to imagine people out there being swallowed up by the darkness." It's almost strange that he doesn't say 'the sea', but he did add emphasis to how dark this image in his mind was.

After a second drink, he catches her flailing movements from out of the corner of his eyes and in his leaned over position, he turns to peer in her direction. It takes him a short while to realize exactly what is going on, but when he does, his posture straightens and he retrieves both his stowed away pack of cigarettes from out of his coat pocket along with an a shiny expensive lighter. Tapping out a smoke, he extends a hand to pass both it and the lighter to Bailey, "You need this more than I do."

"Thanks." Baylee laughs at the offer, and her own flailing, most likely. She accepts the cigarette and the lighter, lighting the cigarette before passing it back, then she turns to look out towards the ocean, and the dark and stormy sky. It doesn't seem to bother her that his thoughts went a little dark, and there isn't any new crack about him being a secret serial killer that has lured her up into his home just to murder her. Instead she's quiet, enjoying the view as she takes a drag from the cigarette, some of the tension from the lack of nicotine bleeding out as she blows the smoke out in front of her.

"There are probably people that do get swallowed up by the darkness out there." It's offered quietly, but then she shakes it off fairly easily, glancing over towards him, "So you went to California for school, right?" She lifts the glass up to take a swallow from it, then she gestures outwards towards the ocean, "I mean, what part of California did you go to, what'd you do....tell me all about your big city adventures."

Byron doesn't even realize what he had just said about the darkness until Baylee reminds him of it, his own eyes watching her light up before she hands back his lighter. Returning that back to his coat pocket, this small grin crosses his face, looking a little embarrassed by what he's blurted out, even though she doesn't press him on any of it. "Sorry, I might just have an active imagination." He takes the moment to take a big gulp from his glass of Scotch, needing that soothing feeling that alcohol helps bring.

"USC. That's where I went." Rather than face the ocean now, those images still on his mind, he turns his back to it, leaning against the railing once more. "I was just glad that I got accepted. Then I had to scramble to put things together and make everything work to even pay back my student loan. If I'm being honest," He says with a bit of a laugh, "I'm sort of still paying it off." Nevermind that he owns a Rolls Royce or this apartment complex. Student Loans just stick with you forever! "So yeah. I lived in Los Angeles. Imagine how it felt coming back here after all those years." His chin lowers as his gaze idly falls to his shoes, "It was quiet. Quieter than LA anyway."

"I've heard stories about how expensive the education system is here...very inflated prices." Baylee continues to watch the ocean, taking slow sips from the scotch and drags off her cigarette every once in a while. "Although you seem to be doing alright for yourself. Fancy car, fancy digs...fancy suit." She takes the final drag off the cigarette before she flicks it out into the air to fall to the ground. Hopefully not on some poor person walking beneath his balcony though.

When she flicks it away is when she shifts to face him, leaning her hip against the railing. "I've heard that LA is worth a visit, but I haven't managed to make it there yet." She lifts the glass up, but doesn't take a sip from it yet as another thought enters her mind, "In fact, I've heard that the party scene in LA is pretty wild, which...Might actually be worth heading down sometime, just for a weekend trip. I don't suppose that you might have any kind of suggestions on where to go and what to do?"

"We're pretty much getting fleeced out here." Byron isn't going to deny before practically draining half of his glass. "I had thoughts of traveling abroad for University, but at the time, I would never be able to afford it. Now, I've got to wonder, if I did, would I be better off? Where my student loan is concerned anyway." With her mentioning all of these luxuries that he has, his gaze idly follow the trail of her flicked cigarette when he turns to her, but he doesn't care enough to lean over the railing to ensure that it didn't land on someone down below or even blew onto their balcony.

"It's all about investors. I was lucky enough to find a few who were interested in some projects I'd worked on back them. Some of them were entertainment focused, like throwing large celebrity-filled parties locally. Others were tech based ventures." From here on, he begins nursing his drink, turning once more to stare out towards the sea. "If you like a good nightlife and partying, then LA is the place to be and Gray Harbor is not. But, sure, we could probably make a long weekend out of it. I'm pretty sure you're going to like it there." He can already tell by her sense of style.

"Depending on where you ended up all you'd have to worry about is money to get there and live, I think." Baylee tilts her head back, thinking about it, "I think Germany has basically free education, even for exchange students. But I might be wrong, maybe..." She doesn't sound like she is absolutely certain, in fact. Just repeating something that she might have heard at some point or another. "But I imagine that your loans would have been non-existent or a lot lower than what you've ended up with now."

Investors. Of course. She nods, like she should have realized that without it having to be spelled out for her, one corner of her mouth twisting upwards for a brief second before she lifts the glass up to knock back the rest of the scotch like an old pro. It speaks to someone who probably has far too much familiarity with drinking, and drinking hard. Then she looks at the glass like she's waiting for it to refill, but life just doesn't work like that. So instead she looks back up at him, a smile spreading across her lips, "A long weekend? So drive down on a Thursday and back on a Sunday or Monday kind of long weekend?"

Drive down. Which obviously means in his fancy car since she doesn't have a car.

"Unfortunately, none of that will do a lick of good for me now." Byron says, that charming smile still lingering on his features. "I mean, I've looked into it at some point, but only /after/ I'd already been accepted into USC. So it looks like I'll have to make do." At this point, he follows suit and polishes off the remainder of his drink, only the noting that his guest is looking for seconds. Politely obliging to the request, he takes both glasses back to the bar and begins to pour.

When he returns back to the conversation, he's only holding one glass and this he extends to Baylee. "Yeah, that kind of long weekend. Might see if I can rustle up a few who might be interested. It would be even better if it can coincide with a business meeting that I'd need to attend. But as we all know, things don't happen the way you want usually." He then brings up something that's been on his mind, but he hadn't really mentioned until now, "Do you want me to get your jacket for you? I don't think the weather is going to warm up any time soon."

"But USC is a good school, isn't it?" Baylee wonders as she hands her glass over to him, holding off on any other questions that she might have until he's back out on the balcony. If she notices the fact that he doesn't have his own drink still she doesn't say anything, instead she reaches out to take her glass from him, "I wouldn't complain about the fact that you went to an excellent school, have a nice place to live....and a great car." She shrugs her shoulders as she takes a sip from her drink once more, but this time it is a smaller sip than she'd had before.

There is a start of the roll of her eyes when he mentions rustling up other people and business meetings, but she just makes an agreeable sound at that, nodding in agreement. "Of course, why not make it a whole thing. People and business meetings. Sounds very thrilling, although..." She considers for a moment before continuing with her thought, "If we are actually going to go and hit all the best party spots in LA, I don't imagine that you'll be really feeling up to a traditional business meeting. Unless you plan to conduct them in the VIP section with bottle service." She glances inside towards the apartment when he asks about her jacket, "I'm fine for now, unless my lack of it is making you uneasy."

"USC is an excellent school and I did well to go there." Byron won't argue with that. Not at all. "But you probably know of many an entrepreneur who created successful startups without that education." His broad shoulders lift into a shrug. "Not that I'm complaining. I mean, I've succeeded beyond belief and I'm not stopping anytime soon." This is most likely why he has business on the brain even when thinking of taking a trip to LA.

This confident smile on his face, he tries to explain, "Well, the business part would come before the partying. While you can conduct certain types of business with certain people at the VIP room of a club, most still prefer to meet in an office or boardroom still." A lone hand lifts to run gloved fingers through his slicked back hair in an idle fashion. "Hell, most would rather hold meetings remotely now too, but the serious ones, the old fashioned investors, still prefer a face-to-face meeting. I'll have to make some calls to sort it all out. But to end a success venture with VIP seating and bottle service? I'm sure most wouldn't take issue."

When it's clear that she's not interested in her jacket and the fact that she isn't cold , he returns his attention back to the ocean, leaning forward with his arms crossed to rest against the railing. "No, not at all. I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable." There's this thoughtful pause, before he adds, "Speaking of business, I have a few calls I need to make this afternoon and a possible visit from a potential partner." Turning her way, he makes sure to say, "Don't worry, I plan to take you home soon so you're not stuck out here."

"Sure, there are plenty of people that have made plenty of money without any higher education." Baylee agrees with a nod, once more starting to look amused at the conversational topic, "I honestly wish that I had that kind of ambition. Succeeding beyond belief and not stopping anytime soon, either. I've never had that drive in life, I kind of marvel at those that manage to summon up that kind of drive."

When he leans back onto the rail she turns around, leaning against it as well, "Whatever makes you happy." She shrugs her shoulders at the idea of doing business before partying, seeming to be fine with whatever he chooses to do. Clearly this trip to LA is just something that she's along for the ride on, so to speak.

"Take all the time you need for business. I'll be as quiet as a mouse, or gather my things and be ready. Whatever you prefer." As though to prove her point she steps back from the railing, lifting the glass to her lips to take a sip from it before she turns to head back inside. Both where it is warmer, and where it is dryer, and there is a place that she can sit until he's decided that it is time to go.

Taking in the depths of his oceanside view, Byron falls quiet when he contemplates on a few things. Most likely running through this schedule that he has in his mind. Eventually, he comes back to the present to say, "You just need to find something you're passionate about. Then again, maybe you already did. With this P.I. thing." Half-turned, he quietly observes the woman from out of the corner of his eye, shifting his stance slightly.

"I'll probably see about taking you back to your place after that drink. Unless there's somewhere else in town that you'd rather be." It's actually smart to get out of the drizzle, though his coat protects him from the elements, the ends of that perfectly coiffed hair drips raindrops into his eyes. Pushing off from the railing, he follows Baylee inside but decides not to close those French doors, allowing some of that chill to enter.

"That what you're waiting for?" Baylee wonders, glancing down at the glass before she lifts it up to down the contents before she sets the glass down, dusting her hands off, "Simple as that." She then reaches for her jacket to start tugging it back on, reaching into the front pocket of the shirt to make certain that her cigarettes are there. But she doesn't take them out, just reassures herself before she reaches for her phone, checking to see if there are any messages on it.

"No where that I need to be, so taking me back to my place is fine. But you can also just tend to your business, too. I can get home on my own." The phone gets tucked back into the back pocket of her jeans before she heads towards where she took her shoes on, tugging them back on, "Your choice, Byron."

"I mean, it's no rush." Byron starts to say just as he watches Baylee drain that Scotch down. "You're a girl who really can handle her liquor." He says with a mixture of amusement and being rather impressed. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, he directs her attention to the elevator with a nod. "I don't mind at all. I can run a few errands while I'm out before the first video conference call comes in. Besides," He looks in her direction, standing beside the elevator door, "That would be a shitty way of welcoming a new face into town by making her walk all the way home in the rain." As an aside, he murmurs, "And the trailer park is a ways out."

"Years of practice." Baylee replies with a laugh, buttoning her jacket back up as she waits next to the elevator for him to be ready, then she reaches out to hit the button down, "I appreciate the lack of a shitty way of saying welcome to town. Believe me." She waits for the doors to open, a foot then moving to catch the elevator door before she gestures him into the elevator first, the two quickly downed scotches back to back loosening her up enough that she seems to be a little more playful about the entire thing. Which more than likely makes the ride out to her trailer all the more entertaining.