2019-05-22 - Slumber Party

It's pouring rain and Byron's waiting inside the warmth and dry comfort of his ride with his lights on, the subtle sound of his windshield wipers create this ambient lull. He makes sure to park in a way that the passenger door is facing the pawn shop. It's late. There's no other cars parked nor will there be, so rather than pull up into a stall, the Wraith's sleek forms is stretched out across several parking spaces. Once he notices Lilith heading his way, the passenger side door unlocks and he leans over to swing it open, the bright light within the vehicle makes it more than clear that this is the right car, "Come on in. Don't worry about getting the seats wet."

"... why would I -not- worry about getting the seats wet, what is this, Italian mythical beast leather?" Lilith says as she finally starts moving again when the dome lights kick in and she sees Byron through the open door, a familiar sight that brings her relief this night, despite her bobble of hesitation. There is a speculative moment where she pauses again outside the open car door while asking that, a little floored by the extent of the car he's driving. She expected he'd have a nice car, sure, but not one in the vein of something most people only see in a movie or on the internet.

After that lull, though, she's quick about hopping in and slinging an owl-emblazoned bag with spare clothes and toiletries or whatever else down into the floorboard before she sits and a little too gingerly closes the door. She has to open and close it again because the door-ajar warning light is on after she's too damn careful with the thing. After trying again, she wiggles to test the comfort of the ergonomic seat, then throws her leather coat-cover down with her bag to leave her sitting there partially wet in blotches on her Grateful Dead tank top paired with those more soaked cherry-blossom pajama pants at clash. Her hair is damp too, the length starting to curl up some because of it after a rake of fingers through.

It's dark, but she's nosy about sitting in the thing anyway with twist to look around before actually putting on her seatbelt. Then she looks at Byron with two very strong sentiments popping out of her, "Thank you. I didn't realize how paranoid our conversation at the cottage made me until I was laying there after today." A pause, "And -goddamn-."

That last part is no doubt about the car.

Once she's safely nestled inside, Byron makes sure to note that her seatbelt is on. Rather than heading off immediately, he gives her this time to situate herself, feeling the gentle warmness of the heater within. While he was waiting for her, watching for her presence, he gave the darkness around him a look over in the case that someone was observing them. Their text discussion had set him on high alert, which is why he had no hesitated to pick her up this evening.

Then, the car pulls out, driving forward into a curve before it gets back on track. "So what did this Carver look like?" He asks, pulling onto the main road headed to Bayside. "And what did he say exactly when he came to visit?" Several glances are given Lilith's way, but it's night and the skies are full of rain, so he's careful enough to keep his attention on the road.

"Dark hair, British-sounding, older than us, dressed like--" Lilith pauses to think about this for a moment before her head shakes, "I don't know. A little bit Dickens, but like he hauled himself out of a bar alley after a bender too. Kind of a strange combo. So Carver comes in to shop around while I'm on the phone yelling at Hank about the violin I found out he stole from the shop to go get booze money. He used up his allowance." She pauses here with an eyeroll of agitation at the byline, and it's probably not real surprising she's giving her own father a liquor store allowance he's already blown through.

Her hand makes a drag over the door console to poke at buttons until she finds the seat heater for her side. After wiggling her ass uncomfortably in the seat with rise, though somewhere in the middle of talking, she suddenly bucks her hips up in brief and starts laughing while settling down again, "Anyway, he was clearly pretending to shop and when he looked at me, he literally -winced- and had to take... hell, a pill, I guess, because he wasn't expecting to-- Oh woah! That kicked in with sudden warmth on my backside and it felt like a sudden flood of tinkle accident 'cause I'm wet, wooow. Ahem."

"What was I... oh. So yeah. He starts digging on me immediately with little good-nature questions about -how- I might be setting Hank on fire. Because I maybe threatened that before hanging up. And I can see that he's-- okay, well, long story short, he looks like us, all steeped in it, you know? But it's different, which combined with everything else, it's why I suddenly got cautious about him being there. It's like... it's there, but hollow, nothing inside rumbling to get out." The brunette makes a noise in her throat and looks at Byron with sudden apology, "I'm making a terrible explanation. I think I'm all wound up by the engine purr. But long story short, once he saw me and poked at me enough to confirm what I was capable of, he felt the need to caution me about all the bad and how I'm not just -attractive- to these things, but food. So I'm wondering... why I'm his concern all of a sudden as a stranger, of course..."

Byron's mostly quiet as he listens, giving Lilith this time to just get out everything that she needs to. Steering the car towards another street, his gaze lifting towards the rear video mirror, before checking his side mirror. As he does this, he finally makes comment, "I'd say fire Hank," even though he is her father, "And take on someone who can help man the shop part-time maybe. Though, I know that it might not be in your budget right now."

The description of how Carver reacted on seeing her, though, is what gives her this look as if trying to see the same for himself, before his eyes are set forward once more. "How do we know that he's not just some junkie?" He is about to go on, until he's surprised by her exclamation, making him half-turn to regard her, before he chuckles with this wide grin.

"Yeah you mentioned that bit about him and that's what I don't like about any of this. That sounds too... I don't know." Turning onto another street, driving the length of the long stretch of Bayside Road, there is a wonderful bay view off to the side. They even drive pass The Clubhouse. "You mentioned repairing a violin in front of him? And you were worried about it?"

"To be fair, he probably drinks and takes his share of substances. But it seems because he's agitated about still seeing the way he sees, even with his abilities blocked away." Lilith kind of centers herself and stops bouncing around with details once she's finished playing with buttons and adapts the general mien of a car being just a car while riding in it. Her eyes turn out of the window to view the night through the rain in turns with Byron himself, fixating in brief on the familiar Clubhouse cottage they pass with a vaguely wistful expression fleeting on her fine features.

And even though she's damp and not dressed up and mildly bedraggled besides without any makeup to speak of... even in the dark, sitting reflective, it's clear she grew into almost uncanny, unfair beauty as an adult. She was always a little too pretty in a sweet wide-eyed doll way as a kid, but she tended to hide it once it started to blossom behind layers of dressdown black and cosmetics to edge up what was there as a distractor. After a brief and pensive lull, she continues, though her hands lace fingers together with small wring in her lap despite the conversational calm and ease there with Byron.

"I did. You see, the general theme of our conversation is that he's bothered by the concentration of what he sees in people here, especially compared to other places. And he's apparently pretty sensitive to seeing and feeling it. So while he's taking the time to explain the consequences and dangers, Hank comes by to drop off the busted violin. And I have the case open while we're talking and suddenly there's a teenage girl ghost piping into our conversation to answer my question as to why -he- looks the same but different." She wets her lips before pressing them into flat line, "She said after -she- died, his pipes blocked up. Guilt is all through him in regards to that ghost who might be uh, his sister or something, and I saw that. I don't know if he willingly blocks or it's something that just happened as a result. But it kind of explains why he took a sudden interest in cautionary tales on my behalf."

She frowns a little, like she thinks she's leaving something out and is trying to mentally order, but gives up, "Anyway, when she appeared, that-- it hadn't happened to me in a long time. So I knocked the case when I jumped, he caught the violin and handed it back, and when I was agitated hearing about how she possibly died, knowing I wasn't in a way to leave at all, among other things, when I touched it to take..."

Her breath draws in slow and deep and she looks at Byron, "We were literally talking about how she attracted something dark with her powers on accident and died because of it and I sparked like the sun in the middle of it. On accident." A pause, "When I repair things, I do it little by little to work on control and not draw a lot of attention to what I -do- in there, so I don't slip and explode whatever it is, instead. But when I touched that violin so worked up, something just came out and lit up while I was distracted and bothered and it was beautiful again in a matter of heartbeats. Too much, too fast, too unwitting." She sighs, "So knowing what Geoff attracted and given our subject matter, bed just wasn't working out for me. I remembered about Tobin's mom too. And it scared me to think... more than than any potential consequences... that something would happen and you guys would think I shutdown and ran again. I set that precedent. I needed you to know that's not me now. Just in case."

Pass the small cottages, like the one Tobin's family lived in, there are wealthy homes and this is where they drive through next. Lilith probably knows where he lives. The Bayside Apartments have been there forever as well, though as it's a luxury residential structure, it's been upgraded over time to keep up with the modern standards of luxury living. So it's no surprise when they come upon it and he turns the wheel to steer them through the driveway.

"He has the ghost of his sister tagging along with him?" Byron doesn't quite like the sound of that at all. Ghosts. There are some deceased, well one, who he would never want to meet up with again. "Why is he in town? I met a Brit just a few days ago. She didn't look dead, so I doubt it was his sister." Yes, he's making a joke there. "I asked why she was here too. It's definitely not to get away from the dreary English weather, that's for sure."

Once through the gates, he drives up to one of the buildings before they wait for the door to the underground garage to open. "I've always seen that spark within you." It's uncertain as to whether he means it as this light inside of her, due to personality, or if he's talking about this strange bond that they all share. "It's rather blinding. So I guess I can't fault the guy for needing to take that Advil." Or whatever Carver took.

Once the door is open, he drives on down into the well-lit garage. His parking space is further towards the back. He's kept his comments light for the most part, but he's still troubled by it. It's not something he'll bring up here, however. He simply parks.

"I guess so." Lilith murmurs in reply to the ghost bit, a touch hesitant with Byron's next question despite brief twinge of her lips at his quip, like she's embarrassed in part to have missed such an obvious question when dancing around the man's presence and intent in the shop at the time. "It... was a strange conversation with weird angles, so I didn't really get to ask the normal things I should have. I have no clue why he's here. It's in part why I mentioned you might like to hear the things he had to say. And not just in relay from me. I thought maybe you should maybe get a read on him and we could maybe have a drink with him for that, together. He's... kind of roundabout offered to help me with a sense of control when it comes to these things, I guess in the name of making sure I don't end up dead on his conscience now that he's seen... my unwitting recklessness."

She settles back to look at Byron and unbuckles her seatbelt as he pulls in to park, no longer occupied with looking out of the windows while she considers his words for a distracted moment. And after a moment, she wonders voice dropped a little soft, "Did you?" It seems more like something to hang and contemplate than to actually answer, though, because she's suddenly lightening the mood herself as if avoiding where that might delve for the time being. After grazing her bottom lip with her teeth, she asks more pointed and less drifting with a smile tugging up one side of her mouth in wry, teasing fashion, "... you do realize if you take me up into this building and you have a bearskin rug in front of a remote control fireplace and six Tiffany chandeliers, I'm probably going to make fun of you, right?"

Putting the car into park and shutting it down, Byron waits for Lilith to step out first before he does the same. The familiar sound of the car alarm beep can be heard as he makes his way towards the elevator, one hand in his pockets as he pushes the button. "Unlike this girl, he probably freaked you out a bit. If he looked as drunken as you said." Though this suggestion that she makes, gets him to look up on her with an arch of a brow, "Do you plan on meeting with him again? More like, do you expect him to continue to harass you at your place of work?"

There's the sound of a ding and the elevator doors open. He'll wait til she boards before stepping inside. Once there, he inserts his key into the panel, before pressing the Penthouse floor button. He then withdraws, slipping said key back into his pocket. "Looks like I might need to take you to one of the vacant apartments then. Or one belonging to someone who only stops by for the summer." There's no looking at Lilith when he says this, just keeping his attention on the screen that shows the rising floor numbers.

Lilith adjusts the bag on her shoulder with her coat over her arm in carry to the elevator, looking back at the car in some semblance of dry lighting with a tiny shake of her head in mild disbelief. Then she speculates, "I wouldn't put it past him, the drop in for more strange conversations, but I have his card and number too at my place. The card uh. Doesn't have a business on it or anything. It just has his name, number and..." She kind of huffs a little with humor in brief remembering what else is on it, "Where the business part goes on a card, it just says 'fuck if I know' instead."

As the elevator rides up and Byron makes deadpan alternate planning aloud in response to her warning on exactly will get him a dose of relentless teasing, she just makes an 'oh' noise and bylines with exasperation, "You have a pet tiger with a diamond collar too, don't you?" And though she's just as deadpan about it, her eyes go to watch the floor numbers continue to rise and rise with count, her brows lifting a touch as she realizes they're going straight to the top. Because... heh, of course they are after that ride. Of course they are.

When the bell dings for the doors to open, she knocks a hand in hold through her hair and admits to Byron while he takes the lead on toward home for the rest of the night, "... I think I do want to talk to him again. I'm curious about things, especially now since you've pointed out I don't know the things I maybe should after a first in-depth conversation about vulnerable things. And he's... strange and pushy, but he's-- well, probably not dangerous, at the least." She makes a little noise like she just doesn't know -how- to explain Carver in full and that he may just be one of those things you need to see and hear for yourself, "And aren't you curious what happened to him?"

"The pet tiger is at the ranch. Even though I own this building, I have rules for pets here." Byron is quick on the uptake to say. Though the pet rules for this building is most likely catered to the wealthy tenants who live within. Before then, there's no mention of this mock business card that the man had given her. It's not as if she had it on her person herself. He does go to say, "I'd wished you'd brought that card with you." Some might think he wanted to check it on or see it in person, but he has other ways of dealing with people's personal belongings.

Once the elevator door slides open, it's just a very short walk across the hallway to his apartment, which he then he unlocks and swings open, "Voila. Welcome to one of my tenants summer homes. Please, make yourself at home." This is all said in jest. This is most likely his place. "I'll get you something to drink if you like." The wine he told her that he was drinking is left forgotten on the bar, the glass half-filled. "The bathroom is that way." He says, directing her down the hall, "You can get some towels if you still need to dry off."

Without even touching his wine glass, he reaches for a fresh glass, before turning over his shoulder to see what Lilith is up to, "I don't know why I would be curious. Did what happen to him happen here?"

"... I don't know." Lilith's reply is lame and again, she's reminded she didn't ask the smart things she maybe should have, all wrapped up in the strangeness of the whole encounter like she was. In fact, where she was feeling a little pride in her caution in handling, she's actually starting to feel a bit sheepish with retrospect, shoulders drawing in a touch with posture change. But it's short lived because her eyes widen the more she takes in the posh penthouse. She expected nice, just like she expected nice with the car, but again, her expectations are not what she's seeing.

She gets about halfway in before standing there like little orphan Annie standing in Daddy Warbucks' abode in her mismatched PJ pants and tank. Then gingerly, she clears her throat and turns to go hang her coat in the closet like a civilized person at the entry hall and takes her bag to the bathroom where he indicates. "This is... yes. A drink. Hold on. I brought other things, I'll change." And yeah, he pointed where the bathroom was, but that doesn't mean she's not checking all the other doors while in the hallway too for a quietly nosy and generally stunned wander.

When she comes back out and along in short order, she has left her bag and the PJs behind, clad in a little pair of black running shorts and a red crop t-shirt that reads 'Wreck It' with advertisement for a gym in Miami in smaller letters on the back, feet bare. She's apparently put a brush through her hair, though, to order -that- into something a little more presentable after the bed tousle and rain had at it. And she stops for a moment to look at Byron with general amazement where he is from a distance once she's wandered to have a look through the panes of the terrace doors, "I had -no- clue real estate was -this- lucrative. First the car, now this. Jeez, do you piss excellence now too? Being hot and rich with... whatever superpowers to boot almost makes you an upgraded Bruce Wayne."

Maybe it's not really the setting or money that's throwing her into general awe and wonder, because he wouldn't know it, but... she's had very, very rich clients in Miami that paid for her special services, she's seen things like this. But having very little was something they used to share, once upon a time. Now she's standing here with nothing but inherited mass debt and the dangers that go with that. And he's... this. He's all this. She starts to pluck a little anxiously at a piece of her hair like she's suddenly self-conscious for a few moments in his company like this. In fact, she's mentally cursing what she packed to wear at the moment after a glance down at herself in comparison.

And maybe, just maybe, he feels that.

"The problem I'm seeing is that if there's another place like Gray Harbor somewhere in England, I'd hate to think just how far this darkness has spread." Byron says as he waits on Lilith's response to his inquiry of drink. When she tells him to wait, he does just that and only then does he take up the glass he'd left there before he went off to fetch Lilith to finish the remainder of that white wine in one go. From where he's standing, he can tell that she's going through all of his rooms. If she was only going to fetch towels, dry herself off and change, she'd be done by now. Well, she would have sauntered out of there sooner than she did and he'd heard several drawers in his rooms opening and shutting.

He enjoys watching her admire his place, looking like a kid in a really expensive candy store. "I'm not really into real estate, I mean, until now. I had other projects that made me the money to acquire this place." And the Rolls Royce! A quiet chuckle escapes his lips as he turns to pour himself another glass of wine. "Superpowers... I'm still trying to come into my own with mine, so I'd be a fairly ineffective Batman, though a very successful Bruce Wayne and to be honest, I'd prefer being the latter. Now, drink?"

With his back to her, he picks up some of what she's feeling. It's not fully intentional, but she gives off so much emotion that it's difficult not to pull at a few threads. "You hadn't told me how much in debt you and Hank were in and is there a way out of any of that? Are you working for--" He doesn't come out and say the crime boss' name, "Or do you need to just pay him off for him to let you off the hook?"

"Yeah. That's something else I want to know, are there other places weird like here? And why are his powers gone? I only got to see and hear the catalyst, not... the how. And I can't figure out if he thinks it's something good or terrible. I just... I just feel like he knows things and we don't know a lot. Or rather, what we do know, we've kind of made our own thoughts and words for with so many damn spins. I mean, what -if- there is something real and concrete we're missing in the middle of so much... coping theory and exposure?" Lilith gets over her little bout of feeling like the little ratty-dressed poor girl again after a kind of side glance at Byron. She rubs at one of her eyes after and blinks a few times, walking over with a few ready, bouncing nods at the drink invitation, rolling the 'r' on the name as she leans on the bar edge to watch him pour, "Yes. Drink. Wind me down, Brrruce."

But his next question has her looking down instead of at him with tiny nod as answer to confirm exactly who they both mean, and her brows knit downward, "You can't do that. I can't -let- you do that. It's... a whole lot of money. More money than anyone should have ever allowed Hank to be in hock for because he's always been a bad loan. And -that- in and of itself tells me they wanted the shop to use. But they didn't know I'd come screw up the calculated loss for future profit. I mean, it's the only thing I know of that my family ever had and I couldn't..." She draws in a breath to explain a little more as to why he can't just pay it, "The debt is equal to the business equity as estimated by insurance after the loss, plus forty percent, plus..." Her jaw sets and she looks around at the apartment again before looking at Byron, "I mean. I have to... I don't work for him as... but I..."

Shame is not helping with this conversation, nevermind it's not her debt. There's something else giving her extreme pause.

"And why do you think a sloshed stranger will have the answers? I mean sure, maybe he knows something. Maybe something happened to him, but he sounds totally and completely addled." Byron lifts his glass to his lips, pausing before he takes a sip to say, "Or that's the impression that I get." Then he follows through with the drink, licking at his lips when he resettles the glass back atop the bar counter. "Are we even sure that he lost his powers? I sort of expect that this... ghost," He's still not sure about that one, but Lilith says she's seen it,"is probably a far more reliable narrator than he is?"

Since he's drinking wine, he sets another wine glass down to fill for Lilith, pouring in some of that expensive Chardonnay. "I'm... I'm not even sure whether I can help pay for anything." Byron admits to her, taking up the wine glass in hand and extends it in her direction. "I don't think they will let you go that easily. Or... that's why I needed to be certain that it was a debt or if they," Felix, "Wanted something more. If it's the latter that he needs you for, it will more than just paying off this debt." With his own glass in hand, he moves over towards the couch, the one facing the terrace rather than the television. Falling into his seat, he pats a space next time him, "We'll try to work something out in time. I mean, as long as you're not being threatened?"

Lilith shrugs a little bit to the first bit uncertainly, like there might be value or the man Carver might actually -be- a loon and she's not entirely sure which end to fall on, there. She watches him pour and takes the glass extended her way while stuck in wordless hesitation where she stopped at a loss and she drinks one sip, then another carefully, as if deliberately pacing herself after the small smile of gratitude.

But then there's huge turnabout in her demeanor. Lilith seems to relax as Byron picks up on some of what she's throwing down there and with him going to pat the seat next to himself with that understanding loosely in mind, she blinks a couple of times and the shame and paranoia and general stutters melt away. She takes it as acceptance. An opening to say what she really thinks she's been roped toward, courtesy of Hank's fuck-uppery. Immediately she moves that way to drop down into a leaning sit against him with a leg curled under herself, wine glass in hand. Then. Then she tells him everything without missing a beat.

"Not yet. But Hank was. I'm not sure if it was for show or serious because it was from his stories, not theirs. I also don't know if he set the fire for insurance as a last ditch, not understanding equity... or if they did to bankrupt it and pull it. But the phone meeting where I told them I took over the title and had credit to keep it afloat in the meantime with mortgaging complicated the matter of pulling it as compensation. I ah." The tension creeps up a little with nerves, just a flicker, then it's back to calm, "Did some work for a bigwig lawyer in Miami that set it up remotely after I had a conversation with Hank telling him -exactly- what was going to happen, and he was so scared of being offed at the time, whether it was true or not, he handed it over to me."

She takes a long drink, "The thing is, while I wasn't exactly struggling and did have credit, I wouldn't have been able to really rebuild, and other than the title snag, which I'm sure -he- could have gotten around, there wasn't too much stopping him from taking it anyway, his way, and maybe hurting Hank on general principle. So I had to sweeten the deal. I told them whatever they were wanting that shop for, I'd do for them, on top of paying back the debt with interest. It's cash heavy. He needs cash in circulation, real or fake. It's untracked item sales, he needs to offload goods. So I do that. I didn't tell him what I could -do- to ensure I could keep up with payments in heavy installment, but... he sees my unnatural profit margins from turning junk into shine, all to his benefit."

And here, she turns her face to breathe out a sigh into Byron's shoulder nearby before inhaling his laundry soap and cologne from his shirt before pulling face up to speak again with resignation, "I am valuable and he knows it. I proved -too- witting and capable. I don't know if my debt ends when it's paid. And I don't know what other favors he might ask for compensation if he figures out exactly what I am."

With the discussion of Carver set aside, Byron's full focus is on Lilith and this debt. There's this familiar comfort which she brings when she settles down against him, reaching over to drape his free arm across her shoulder once he passes his glass to the other hand. It was nice having her back and he didn't seem to mind the mismatched clothing that she wore, no matter how out of place it may seem in a suite such as this. Byron was already planning to go to bed right before she'd messaged him, so had on his business shirt and tie on still, having only had the time to shed himself of his suit jacket.

When she pours out her story for him to hear, he listens intently, taking a sip from his glass every so often. Unlike some, he has a clear understanding of everything being told to him. The price of her debt, what... may have actually happened to cause that fire. Everything. There's a lot for him to think on, from what he knows of the ''business'', that he's lost in his own thoughts right now as he absorbs every bit of information given him.

She then brings up the idea on what Felix would do if he found out what she did or what she could do. He actually considers this for a moment, before saying, "Let's hope that he doesn't have that same spark that the rest of us do. It's easier for him to be kept in the dark if that's the case." In fact, he never saw that spark, that shine within Felix like he does with so many others. "You just keep doing what need to do to keep him happy." He's never addressed Felix by his name in their conversations. "Maybe in his mind, he'll just think that the business was lucrative..." This is when he returns his gaze to Lilith, "I'm hoping that by then, you'll be more willing to give it up if it comes down to it." He means give the shop up once Felix is sated.

"As long as it can be done safely and cleanly, I guess. I'm not even entirely sure why I dug in so hard on it like I did, other than me not wanting Hank dead or beaten to pulp. And I didn't know my grandfathers at all to want to go keeping the legacy alive, so that was strange. But it still felt like something being stolen from me. And maybe I was just sick of everywhere and everything else and wanted something to cling and come back to." Lilith hitches her shoulders into a tiny shrug and she relaxes into the arm slung around her while unfoIding her leg to drink and get more heavily lean settled with comfort. Their bodies may be different now, meshed together like this again, supportive in more ways than one, but it still feels the same. Mostly.

Okay, maybe a little less than mostly. Because Byron smells really good and he feels very solid and he looks... Lilith takes a quick drink and confesses, "I'm not sure what I'd do in that case, but it doesn't matter. I don't really like working at the shop. I'm fine with it, I guess, I like tinkering around and I'm good at identifying things and offloading them in the shop and online. But the actual loans to people that... struggle like we used to, watching them give the only thing they have left of value to -me- for less than it's worth so I can shine it and profit when they default in the end... It's sad sometimes, you know. And sometimes... those bills are fake. But at least they're probably untraceable until they're far into circulation and the people don't know that."

Then after sitting for a beat of quiet, she tacks on, "You smell good."

"As long as you part on good terms with him." Byron pipes up to add in to Lilith's words. "That's what matters most." He understands this desire for a legacy, for even he'd want to establish something similar one day but on a much grander scale that the pawn shop. He then allows her to resettle herself deeply against him, listening to her bring up the poor unfortunate souls who are forced to give up all of their important , and often, personal possessions due to one misfortune or other. They really weren't any of his concern. Not if he didn't know them, but he doesn't come out and say this. In fact, he tries to look sympathetic to their plight and as Lilith had said before, they were in that same situation as children.

The compliment to his cologne breaks that sympathetic facade as it brings out this wide grin on his face. "That's good to know. Especially coming from you." With that, he savors another sip of wine from his glass. "Though, unfortunately, I really should head to bed soon. I have a business call in the morning and I'll be paying my respects to my father in the afternoon." There's no bitterness in his tone when he brings up his father, his words coming out casually, as if he just told her that he had to run to pick up his dry cleaning in the afternoon. "Stay up for as long as you want." He says, head turned in her direction as his eyes watch her, "And I don't mind you prying around if you're needing to find something." His office door is also always locked. So while everything else is free for her to roam, there seems to be one room that's off-limits even if he doesn't say.

"Mmmm, yes, you need to go to bed because the longer I sit here like this with wine and the hour in me and on me, when I'm right here on you, welp. That's asking for a limp dead weight Lil and a crick in your neck when you go deciding not to disturb me with things like... moving. So move." Lilith herself doesn't move while giving this instruction, but not until she's given a small, steady nod at his advice in agreement. She drains her wine glass instead and looks at Byron looking at her. And she leaves that tone of nonchalance about his father right the hell where it is, because Byron talking about Daddy is pretty well a no-go zone under all but the most rare circumstances and she knows it.

Instead, she steals a kiss from his cheek, then another, then another with playful Chardonnay-tinged smattering, then finally moves herself to reach a tickling pinch at one of his sides like giddyup spurring, "I've kept you up far too late with ugh. And I'm perfectly safe. And totally spoiled by the treatment, which... I am going to find a delicious way to thank you for while you're on your morning call before I sneak out. Assuming you keep groceries in here and everything isn't for show."

"I'd heard people who owned cats have that issue." Byron says, already slightly shifting in his seat, "Believe me, when I say, if a cat were sleeping on my lap and I needed to stand? There'd be a damn cat on the floor." The flash of smile that he gives Lilith may hint that she might be right though. But Lily's not a damn cat. As he finally draws himself up to stand, he feels the weight of the girl pulling him forward so she can smother him with playful kisses. "It's like you never changed. Like you're the same girl that I used to know." But has she really not changed?

You know, he's been holding his glass of wine throughout all of this manhandling, making the contents within splosh around. Luckily it's white wine. And hopefully, even though it's white wine, nothing had splashed all over anything difficult to clean. It does bring an even broader grin to his face, however, feeling her arms around his neck, before she needles his ribs. "I'll look forward to that then. Breakfast by Lily." Pulling her close so that he can place a firm kiss at the top of her head, he adds in, "It'll beat the coffee and toast that I have most every morning." He then releases her with a wink, before he starts off to his bedroom, "Or just coffee when I'm being lazy. Good night and... let me know if you need anything alright?"

Lilith honestly hadn't smother kissed anyone like that in about fifteen years. And the last one to get things that way exactly was probably Byron, so unreserved and affectionately playful and reeking of girlishness like a throwback. So suddenly, that with his comment prior about cats, it makes her laugh and her head shakes a little after as she goes to refill her emptied glass to take back to the couch with her while he's en route to the bedroom. "... I think it's just you doing that to me. I'm generally kind of anti-tickle and don't think I didn't notice the sheer extent of manly facial hair tickling and brushing my lips while I did that. But we'll just file that somewhere along the lines of you still thinking I'm adorable and I won't ruin it yet."

While carrying the wine back to the couch, she watches Byron disappear after a call after him, assuring, "It won't be Spam!" Hank loves Spam, it used to be rife in her house as the only real food. Then with less play and a sudden pull of genuine smile, she tacks on, "Good night."

When she's settled, she thinks about turning on the television, but instead she looks out of the terrace doors and thinks. She thinks twice as hard about what might have been while sitting in Byron's excess and the creature comforts earned by his climb. It's not really the best mind fodder, but compared to everything else kicking around up top, it's better. And some of those many roads not taken scenarios aren't so bad to think about at all, all told.

She doesn't even wake up screaming when she finally finds her way to the guest bedroom. She was afraid of that, being close to him while asleep triggering the nightmare again like it did the night she texted him to make initial contact. Instead, Lilith sleeps like a babe knowing that he's nearby just in case she needs to scream.