2019-05-27 - Drinks and Damages

It's raining of course, but not just raining, it's storming, and Lilith is convinced it's because she took the time to actually do something with her hair. When Byron texts his arrival, though, she has the wits to grab an umbrella, and once down, she knows the car this time, so there's no hesitation. She also has him pull around back behind the shop so there's less of a dart to the fancy backwards opening doors in the Rolls.

Once she's in, it's clear that she's not in the state he's seen her in either of the times he's seen her. She's dressed up and looks plenty adult and together and darling with some curling in the length of her hair. It's still casual enough, she's wearing jeans and they are just going to a town bar for drinks and a chat, but they're nice fitted and tailored dark jeans she's paired with black heels. And her little clinging crop v-neck spring sweater is red to match her more sheerly tinted lips.

"Heeeey. Lucky trinkets work, look at you, here and handsome. How'd the clients go?"

Byron, himself, is not dressed in a suit of any sort today nor is he wearing the usual buttoned down shirt with tie. Instead, he's dressed rather casually wearing a form fitting green sweater and a pair of dark jeans and black combat boots. There is a bit of shine at wrist in form of his gold Rolex. He waits until her umbrella protected form runs over and hops into his car, though it does give him a good look at what she's wearing at least. However, only when the umbrella is closed and she's seated safely within the comfortingly warmed Rolls interior that he gets a better view of just how gussied up she was.

"You look like someone ready for a fun night on the town. Too bad we're only hitting up the local bar." He says with a laugh, just as the passenger side door moves to close automatically. Pulling out of the driveway, takes an idle look into his rare view mirror before turning to give Lilith another look, "We didn't drown. Thanks to you, I'm sure." A broad grin appears on his lips, before he attention is engaged with the road once again. "It was raining non-stop all day today. How do you think it went?" He asks somewhat wryly, the grin turning into a faint smirk. "I know that the Missus wasn't too happy. But I went to meet with them for drinks, once they had the time to dry off and marvel at the view of the Bay that they nearly drowned in from the balcony of one of my apartment suites. But I think I convinced my client that the town would work as a great mood setter and inspiration for the detective novel he's hoping to write." Turning the wheel as they make their way through an intersection, he continues with, "Let's hope the weather lets up tomorrow. It's their last day in town before I drive them back to the airport."

With all of that out of the way, he asks, "What about you? Busy day? I can imagine only the desperate would want to come out in this weather to hock some goods."

"I... don't often get the chance to dress nicely, kicking around the pawn shop or loft or mail room sending things out for web sales. I supposed it was overdue." Lilith says after a beat of pause and a glance down at herself before she takes to plucking at the edge of her seatbelt for a few passing moments. After a time, her hand falls back against her lap. There's a tiny shake of her head, then she draws in a breath, putting on a half-smile over Byron's way, "Mention that Stephen King -loves- to write in the rain. That's why he prefers Maine. Is it true? I don't know. But you heard it was, courtesy of me. You'll rope him in."

After looking out of the rain-splashed and water-droplet rolled window, she shifts in her seat some to cross her legs off to the side with cozying lean against the door while eyeing the button selection. And while she's speaking, her eyes take a wander to the center console where there's a bunch of other buttons and features and it really kind of looks like she's restraining herself in the name of being a mature adult there in the leather seat, "It was dead so I closed up for a little bit. Took Frankie a demonic chicken I found online during a swap with another store because she was joking about rounding up the chickens in the park for her shop. But I gave her the taxidermy kind. She's already named it." Her eyes cut aside with mild humor, "I swapped the eyes to fake red gemstones I pulled out of a piece for good effect."

After a bat of her mascara-darkened lashes, she looks down at her dropped handbag down next to her umbrella in the floorboard and hesitates for a moment before saying, "Thanks for this. And look, I'm sorry if I've been texting you too much, or if I've taken any kind of tone you're uncomfortable with, considering..." But after a wet of her lips, she tacks on, "I brought Carver's card for you. It's in my purse."

"There's always a reason to dress up. Not sure how professional anyone expects a pawnshop owner to look, but hey, you can always surprise them." Byron says with a good-humored tone. Whenever he's taking Lilith anywhere, it's always raining and it's always night. So with that same combination as the other evening, but worse, he's watching the wet road with care, but his expensive ride handles things wonderfully over all.

"If it would stop raining, I'd invite his family out to the festival. Maybe watch a play. But am /I/ ever that lucky?" He asks, before his attention drifts back to her again, noting the way that she fidgets just so she can keep her hands to herself. He can guess at what she's really wanting to do. "Feel free to explore. It's mainly apps and things of that nature or instructionals." Making yet another turn, his eyes on the rear view mirror again, he quickly says, "Don't worry about it. Sometimes I can't respond due to being in a meeting, on a call, with a client. Things of that nature. But at some point, I'll see the message."

There's this split second of mild tensing in the muscles of his body when she brings up the card. "Good. I'll have a look at it later."

"I don't know. You seem pretty lucky to me, at least of late. But I've been known to be wrong about a thing or two." Lilith eyes her handbag a little longer even after Byron has made the invitation for her to touch things. Rousing her attention, she breathes out a quiet half-laugh after the tiniest spell of what can only be described as a brood out of her while her lashes are cast downward. Then she goes for one button. Just one. The one that makes the hood ornament go down, but it's dark and raining so she can't really much see what it does, nor does she know where to look. She does, however, kind of uncross her legs with sudden slide like the seat is suddenly going to heat up or cool down to ready for that, but when it doesn't happen, she confesses, "Pushing buttons during daylight will work better. I'll save it and treat myself one day, push all those suckers."

Lilith takes a moment to eye Byron sidelong and looks a little like she's thinking about saying something else, but instead she flits her eyes back toward the window in a hurry, noting they're getting close. So whatever it is, she tucks it away entirely or holds it in favor of sitting forward and preparing with her little handbag and umbrella while he finds a place to park.

Only after he'd said it and when Lilith brings it up that Byron realizes just how stupid a statement he'd made. "No, you're right. I really can't complain. And I should know better, having grown up in this town, but the timing of my clients arrival was out of my hands. So all that I can do is make do." He turns slightly to look at her, wearing this cheeky smile, "What would /you/ think if some suit who is trying to suck up to you, invited you out on a boat trip on a day like this?" He shakes his head in his own amusement, facing the road again. "I really should have cancelled."

"But!" He adds emphasis here. "I think I might just have this one. Even if he does't bring his wife or kids with him on his trips out here, he has business in Seattle. Not too far off and it's nice and secluded. Amenities are passable... the view might have sold him and the fact that maybe during the summer, he can go off fishing in the bay."

When Lilith presses the button that makes the Spirit of Ecstasy rise and lower on the hood of his car, Byron knows exactly what's going on, though he had to look at the screen first to realize that it was her pulling all the strings. "Yeah, you'll definitely enjoy it better when you can actually see." He then pulls into the driveway, before parking as close to the building as possible. "Like I said though, it's mostly boring stuff, but nice little touches, I suppose."

Seeing that she's reaching for her umbrella, he tells her, "Watch this." Before reaching a hand out to his side, where he slides out a hidden umbrella of his own. He extends it to her, so she can feel just how warm it's been kept in there. Not that it looks anything special. It's a black umbrella. Once she's done exploring, he tells her, "Sit tight, I'll make my way to your side." With his keys now in hand, he steps out from the Royce, hearing the pattering of rain atop his umbrella, and he circles the car to ready himself for Lilith's exit.

"Why... is it warm? You have an umbrella incubator? It'll hatch into a ton of baby umbrellas that way, you know, no one wants that." Lilith legitimately seems thrown and confused once -that- tidbit comes out of the compartment for show by Byron, fingers gingerly coming outward to feel of the rather mundane object for such a pampering. But once he's around, she foregoes her own umbrella to pop out under his Rolls branded warm umbrella, turning a little grin up of pure sunshine and flashing white teeth through the thunderstorm at him, breaking whatever residual nerves or mental occupying she was doing during the ride that had her turned down a few degrees here and there, "If it starts steaming in the rain, we look so badass walking in right now."

And once they're in, she tilts her head to look around for a moment before tipping her head toward one of the far tables off to the side of the bar and it's a pretty clever kind of placement. For one, they're out of everyone's way and not right at the bar, so conversation is easily facilitated through bar noise. For two, it's close enough to the bar for them to garner or schmooze immediate bartender attention with proximity. That and the gold Rolex on Byron's wrist is probably going to eventually help in the department of drink promptness. And when settled up with those things at the small bar table, Lilith orders a rather deep merlot, crosses her legs under the tabletop, then squirms prominently as if she's trying to get the rest of the nerves out that are suddenly visibly cropping up.

It's not a dire or awkward level of anxiety, but all that fidgeting might not have been about buttons in the car. Because after taking a long drink, she asks Byron, "So. What's the worst case scenario that you're imagining for me when it comes to the last ten years? Serious question. I know you've been pulling your punches with the questions because we've had other things. What's the thing you -don't- want to hear?"

"I remember a time where it was sometimes difficult to find a non-wrecked umbrella, so having new umbrellas thriving and growing in there? Sounds like a boon for me." Byron says, before adding in, "And it's there to dry off my already wet umbrella once we get back inside." The car is locked, of course, and the symbol of wealth, that Spirit of Ecstasy is nowhere to be seen as it's completely hidden from view.

With the Two if by Sea being so close, or on the same stretch of road as the Bayside Apartments and Tobin's house, this was Byron's bar of choice within the town. It also had a great atmosphere which he seems to enjoy. The Rolex does the job and brings a waitstaff to them immediately to take their order once they've settled in. That said, Byron is taken aback by what she asks of him now, but he's know her to ask weird questions at random moments, so this shouldn't be any different than that.

"A beer for me." He's keeping it simple, even if he has the power to make the bartender behind the counter work.

He'll only really respond once Lilith's ordered and the waiter's already wandered off. "The worse case scenario? That you're dead. Or dying. And we both know that the former didn't happen." That's said with light-heartedness that can be heard in his voice before his tone flattens out, "And let's hope that we don't have to go through living with the latter."

"Okay. Yes. I imagine that would be the worst, wouldn't it? And I'm not sick or dying. And no one's going to hurt me here because you're here. So there we go. Worst case scenario avoided. But I also think you... might be a little concerned as to why I have a millionaire client stalking me, especially when I've mentioned being doing work for a powerful lawyer too. And I realize... it might paint a certain picture with me not being very casual or forthcoming in natural conversation." Lilith actually seems surprised by Byron's answer, even though it's kind of an obvious worst case and she takes a moment to knock a hand back through her hair. And the way she slips in that she won't be hurt in the deadly sense simply because he's here too, it's a strange logic that she just seems to believe despite there being little logic in it at all, considering where they are.

She pauses here, as the drinks arrive, and when they do, she takes a very long drink from her wine glass after a glance down at her purse hanging in cross from the back of her chair, "I brought something from Miami, one of the only things I have left that might help you understand what I'm about to tell you in a way that words will not. But I don't know if you want to actually see or touch it in here. I will, however, give you the option before I explain. Otherwise, I'll send it with you when you drop me off, regardless of what I say and what you have to say about it. Sound good?"

Whatever Lilith may have thought about how Byron's mind works, well, he's a practical sort. He could think of a ton of things that she might have been doing with everything said and done. Not everyone likes to discuss work, after all. "I have millionaire clients. Now, I can't say that any stalking me, but I'm not as pretty nor am I a lady such as yourself. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't expect women stalkers, but it is what it is, and it comes with the job when you're working for powerful people."

Now, she has him very curious, with the way that she's worded things. Being so secretive and making quite the big deal of it all. "You could be the secretary for someone important in some company. The company's clients would be your clients. You could be a lawyer, a marketing manager. You can be anything that you want to be and I'd have no idea." Though with just how odd she's acting about all of this, Byron can't help but take a peek, gaining some insight into her worries. The amounts of shame that's sensing is rather alarming. Shame, violence. So many other ideas now come to mind.

"For all I know, you could be a P.I." He starts again, this time, he doesn't look on her, not wanting to make her think that he's been prying. An outstretched hand reaches for his beer, taking this sip, before stating, "I'll try to get a good feel of it when I get back if you don't want to talk about it here. You don't have to, you know."

"I do have to. Because I can't keep sitting on it with you looking at me the way you look at me... when I'm not sure if I deserve it. Because it makes me feel good and right and pure and whole. And it isn't just about what I did to you. It's also about what I did to myself." Lilith honestly doesn't even mentally register that Byron might be getting a read on her, despite a moment where her hand kind of twitches on the glass while she's drinking with tiny flit snap of eyes to his general area with double take. But then she looks around and behind him at the populated bar area with wandering gaze for a moment and honestly, she's used to her perception kind of flaring and waning to things unwittingly since she's been back and she can't often make heads or tails of it unless she's paying attention. Which given subject matter at the moment and all that he's picking up off of her? She's not.

Then she downs her drink and explains quietly and calmly with a gentle matter of factness, walking her fingers against the table and glass stem once she's put it down to push it slowly away from herself. Of course, with Byron looking like money, she has to wait a moment before actually speaking, because she's already being brought another wine, which she thanks the server for before pulling in a breath.

"The first five years, I bounced around between the major cities renting rooms off of classifieds. I did mundane jobs of whatever variety, usually retail. I did a lot of drugs where I could afford to do them. Not because I was a junkie. I wasn't. I ran away to make everything turn off. But when it did, when everything stopped being too loud and bright, it was empty and gouged instead. I did that to myself when I was here. And it stayed with me. So did other habits and urges."

She doesn't spend too much time going into that prelude because she was so young during those years, lots of people are dumb and aimless and paying their emotional dues in early adulthood, trying to find their way. The shame is clearly tied to that, sure, but the next bit out of her starts to reek of pain and accounts for some of the violence on the fringes that he's picking up on.

"In Miami, I finally got a little group of club friends through a roommate. I was bad at people in general, too wary about getting close, so that felt... good, shallow as the connection was. Mostly we'd go dance and do party drugs to shut everything out until we dropped, though. And one of them paid for all those drinks and drugs. I honestly thought she was an escort for the longest time, so when she wanted to bring me in..." Lilith pauses to make a little 'heh' of noise to herself before her head drifts in shake, "She was a dominatrix for her clients. And I thought, I can't even control myself, can't even control my own life, how am I supposed to control someone else? It was ridiculous." She pauses again, "She was persistent, though. And I was broke. She took me to a job, one of the more pain-oriented arrangements..."

Then she sighs with something like resignation, her shoulders dropping as she stares into the wine glass, "Something old tore open inside of me. It's hard to explain. I was just watching. But I wanted that control and I wanted to deconstruct that man and hurt him. For me. Not him. And I thought... there's worse things. They want it." A pause, "I didn't understand what I was doing to myself when I opened that gate."

All that Byron can do is blink when she starts, though he does take another slow sip from his glass, looking just a bit thoughtful now. "What do you mean? The way I look at you?" For all he knows, she's gotten a read off of him, for his mental probing. Yet, he still doesn't admit to, even if he meets her gaze head on, looking to be a man with nothing to hide. A small smile is flashed over to the waiters when they bring Lilith's second drink so far. Byron is fine nursing his first.

Then the drugs are brought up and it's not something he'd expected from her, especially if it started from the time when she began to pull away. I mean, maybe he did expect that is what she'd be doing, but with Tobin and Byron not at all being terrible influences on her, he does have to wonder who she's been buying these drugs from. He doesn't stop to ask questions for now and just lets her continue on. In their youth, he often didn't seem like he judged people for what they did. Whether that's true or not has never really come up.

The tale of Miami starts out normal enough, but when it comes to the part where she brings up her clients, he can't help but arch a brow. There's no reaching for his glass of beer, or diverting of his eyes. Instead, his dark gaze remains locked on her as if watching her with curiosity. "You mean like the women who dress in leather, latex or PVC and walk around with those stiletto shoes brandishing a cat o' nine tailes and ordering men to address them as Mistress? Interesting." Yes, there's humor in his tone, but that's about all he knows about the trade, really.

"That's... not what I expected to hear. I won't say that I like my guesses any better, but yours is far more interesting." Then, he allows himself another drink, his actions taken with great care. "I won't say that you really should have come to us way back when. I guess we all need our life experiences, for good or bad, to mold us into the people we are." Then he says what he always used to say as a child, something that's carried on with him into adulthood whether he means it or not, "I'm not a man to judge another," It's always said in that same, almost dismissive way, but his tone does turn serious, "But that's a part of you that you needed to deal with. And if it's what helped you resolve your... urges, then so be it."

He then mentions his own experiences, "The only darkness, I've ever felt was feeling my father's fists striking against me as a child." This is something that he never admits to. Even when he was the abused child. Not even after his father's death. "And then at times when I experience the trauma or rage that others thought or felt, either in person or by touching a random number of objects. I did what I had to cope. The same as with you."

The seriousness fades a touch, when he adds, his posture more relaxed and he might even be smiling, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, I don't think. You got to rule the world at one time. Must've felt powerful."

"I don't know how to explain how you look at me when you're really looking." A pause, "And ... it's not really like what you think. I mean, sometimes, I guess, if that's the request and you really want that request for the money. And each... woman has her own way about her and specialties. And when I'm feeling less... I mean, some of them are kind of funny. But -some- of them... are men like Grant Turner. Who I refused to see even before I moved, for that last year." Lilith tells Byron with small interject on the leather and PVC bit with shifting in her seat, finally pulling her eyes up at some point to look at him. She wants to explain more, how she was never sated, all the things she felt when it was happening, when it was done. But then... she brought something for that. Some things have no real words.

Then he brings up his father right when she's shaking her head a little bit at the bit about 'resolving' when it comes to her urges and abruptly she just stares at Byron with her eyes a touch widened. Because anything she expected to come out of him was not going to be that. Abruptly every semblance of shame and pain bleeds out of her and she is... putting down the wine glass and immediately seeking his hand. She doesn't prompt any more out of him, she's not pitying him, she just seems to have a sudden need to touch him with something that's the opposite of violence.

In fact, it's so tender, her eyes are misting quick with bat of lashes to staunch in a hurry.

"Hurting someone never feels powerful. Not for me. And five years taught me it never will. It's the opposite of control, even when you tell yourself you're holding the reins. It feeds chaos. People aren't things."

Byron still can't help but be amused by the idea that he looks at her in a certain way, so much that he says, "Okay, I'll try not to think about it, if it's supposed to come naturally. You let me know when it happens." Another thought comes to mind, making him quickly add, "And if you're talking about smouldering looks, then don't tell me." He then settles down, most of the tension is more or less over, or Byron seems like he's trying to lighten the mood. He even finishes off the remainder of his first beer. Whether he actually had this need for a drink or if that good spirits also equals drinking revelry, he orders himself a second glass.

The mention of Grant Turner, however, does darken the mood a little, "Do you have anything of /his/ around." He's making it more than clear on what his intentions. There's obviously more to this conversation, Byron can sense it, but his bringing up his father has sidetracked things a bit. Feeling the warm comfort of those soft hand against his, just the soothing sensation of it all draws his attention down to this connection. Though what she says as a follow up, makes him realize how his words may have come off -- the mention of his abusive father, followed by his bringing up this power she must have felt.

"I didn't mean it like that." Dark eyes raise to lock onto her gaze, "I really mean what I said about it giving you this sense of power. Or why do it? In the end, did you realize that that control you had over people wasn't what you were looking for?"While he didn't seem like the sort as a child, with how meticulous he is with his appearance and everything, Byron is a certainly a man who craves this sense of control and power. The intensity in those eyes fade, there's even a more relaxed slouch to his shoulders now, "If not dominating someone else, then what will help to fill this void in you?" Even his tone has lightened when he asks this, sounding genuinely curious if she even knows.

"I'll tell you when it happens. But it's possible that you aren't doing anything, I guess, and I... am just not accustomed to being -seen- in the ways you can see me. Especially after so long just... existing to bide time, trying to fill holes I made in myself... I don't want to do that anymore. That's why I reached out to your phone. That's why I was on the boat for Tobin. I want to remember who I actually am. I want control of myself."

Lilith's hand squeezes down on Byron's hand a little tightly and she pulls it over to draw close for a pressured kiss on the knuckles in brief before releasing in favor of her wine glass for a drink. Then after a long draining again, she sits back and fans at her face like she's warm or relieved. Or both. And she's finally looking at him naturally again, a bare smile starting to twitch up one side of her mouth, "I understand you didn't mean it like that. But I needed to make it clear it's not... some kink of mine. I don't know what you'll see if you touch the item I brought. But Byron... if you want it, you take it home, you feel all those things about me, about what all of it was. And then you burn it. Okay?"

Byron may not understand how intimate it is, to hand over something so willingly to someone that has the power to strip what she feels to the bones without any words at all. But she's willing and earnest, despite all that prior shame.

Despite parts of their conversation reaching slightly uncomfortable levels, to some degree, things had begun to mellow out. The conversation was more relaxed and he could sense it off of her too. Opening up this much had released some of that fear and tension that she'd been holding onto. Maybe it's because Byron knew what she did, her profession, in Miami. And more than likely he'll know far more than he'd ever wanted to know, or feel for that matter. Dabbling with his abilities sometimes came with a cost, in that it could be emotionally jarring to the user.

But, it's not that he'd never experienced the shock of it all time and time again, whenever confronted with an incredibly trying memory.

With his one hand still being nursed comfortingly by Lilith, he'll just have to use the other if he's planning on drinking some of that beer. Though there's this moment when he watches her once she takes up his hand, his eyes settled onto her lips as they press against his knuckles. Once contact is made, his gaze need not travel far to observe the rest of her features even as he seeks out her eyes once more.

"Give it to me. I'll inspect it at home." He then just has to add, to show that he didn't forget, "Give me Carver's business card too." A pause, "I can burn both if you want."

"I really... if you were anyone else, it would have been simpler to explain. Less stress and worry. Maybe even laughable, even though it's complicated at the root. And it's not because I don't trust you, it's entirely the opposite-- it's that I needed you to understand in full. I needed to paint my damages for you. Because it's everything I don't want to be now. And I'm still struggling with that." Lilith tells Byron with a meaningful gaze, and maybe this is an odd place to be having this conversation, all told, but as far as her eyes and attention is concerned, they're not in a bar. She just sees him.

Drawing in a breath, the brunette reaches down to pull up her purse and she pulls a couple of things out. One is that business card of Carver's. The other is a tie-knotted length of black silk. She slides them to the center of the table and then suddenly looks at Byron more closely, like she's suddenly concerned, not for herself, but for him knowing the purpose of those items, "I don't have anything of Grant's I-- well. I used to collect their business cards too. You know, just in case I turned up dead in a ditch somewhere and the police needed leads. I might have that collection in my things still, some of my boxes are in a closet still packed with the miscellaneous things that had no designated place when it was time to pack."

She's kind of taken with wine flush, but she seems sober enough, posture loosened considerably despite her bout of concern, "... will my hurts hurt you too? Or will you just see and know?"

That curious amusement that sometimes comes over him brings a gentle smile to his lips again. "There you go again. Because it's me? Would you have told Tobin? Or... do you think I'd be more judgmental than Tobin would?' She probably wouldn't be all that wrong if she assumed that, but the smile never leaves. "I'll take great care with your things until I'm through with them." It can be odd watching a Mentalist handle objects and items. Byron so casually takes that glass of beer brought to him, almost without a thought. But these objects, he studies them first, in some sort of mental preparation. Steeling himself to ensure that whatever is on these items, he'll be dealing with them at home rather than here.

Only then does he reach out for the objects. The tie is taken first, expecting it to have a far more intense emotional signature attached. Then the card. Both are slipped into his pants pocket, the entirety of the tie being tucked deeply within. "It really depends." He starts with that explanation, "Sometimes you just visualize or hear things, others you feel the emotion attached. Sometimes you see images, others not so much." He doesn't look worried at all about any of this. "Let me handle it. Right now though? There's other things that we can discuss, before I get back to you on either of those." He seems to mean it too, already taking another casual drink of beer.

"I'm going to tell Tobin. And you were the bigger task, yes. Even after all this time. I know you've had a life full of people and places and things, Byron, and I am -very- happy that you did. But my life wasn't like that. No one got in. No one got close. And -you- were my first everything." Lilith tells Byron with divulging that might be a little because of the wine there in a certain place, but she doesn't linger there. "When I remembered home, I didn't think of the trailer or Hank, that wasn't what made me. I thought of you. I thought of Tobin. I thought of his mom. I thought of Geoff on the porch. And I just got you back."

Lilith moves her shoulders into a rise and fall that's kind of lame, as if she's vaguely embarrassed to admit she's had no real relationships with others worth mentioning in any real formative way. But after pulling in a breath, she laughs suddenly as yet another glass of wine appears to replace the other and she sits back in her seat to look Byron over with up and down, "Drink service is ridiculously fabulous with you around, I only get things this fast when the bartender wants to take me home for the night and is trying to flirt. I'm going to have to get an Uber home at this rate and let you go smash out your gratitude with whoever's paying mind."

Then suddenly, she leans forward against the table to look at Byron with all that shame and the nerves from earlier gone and maybe wine is a good thing for her now that it's kicking in, because she's not wallowing, nor is she serious anymore. She starts playing the inevitable game of Do You Remember When... that was going to come up at some point between them. And almost everything is worth a laugh... including how sweaty his little preteen palm was the first time they kissed on the mouth. In fact, remembering that, she actually feels better after ribbing him about that. He wasn't always this polished and smooth to set her into semi-awkward self-conscious fits on the sly.

In fact, she feels a lot better remembering that. Maybe it's the wine. And she definitely doesn't have to downgrade to an Uber home. The bartender's a guy, anyway.