2019-05-31 - A Tabled Conversation

Surprise. Lilith is looking for Hank and she looks none too happy about it. After taking some time to survey the bar, though, and his regular perch, she looks at the doorway, sighs at the general idea of heading back out, then picks her way carefully through the room to go post up herself for a drink before actually leaving. She's wearing leggings and slouch boots, paired with a white layering tank underneath an open black and white plaid shirt, and she's also wearing makeup despite the casual attire. It mostly hides her fatigue, but anyone studying her that's seen her before would know otherwise-- the vitality that's on her even when she's still, quiet, thinking and pensive is just kind of lacking, as if she's recovering from one thing or another in some regard.

"I haven't seen Hank in two days. I know he's -alive- because he texted me, but I -think- he's dodging me too, and if -that- is the case, that means he's up to something and I just-- nuh uh. Not today. Can I have a double vodka tonic with lime, please?" Once she's there getting settled on a stool, the brunette has a bartender with an all-too-knowing expression after she explains why she's on a tear to find drunk Daddy dearest.

To say that Alistair Carver has had a strange couple of days might be a little bit presumptive. Sure, he met a creepy theater woman who drove a metaphorical blade between his ribs, and then had to deal with the twin ghost of someone he owed cash to while lazing around her apartment, waking up in a mild tangle of limbs with a relative stranger drooling on his shoulder after that... But really, who hasn't dealt with that kind of thing before?

Sure, he might seem to be taking it a little badly, what with the empty glass that until a few moments ago held a double of the 4th most expensive whiskey in the Pourhouse sitting on the table of the booth he seems to have claimed all to himself, but he's pointedly wearing his tie, and even seems to have gone so far as to comb his hair, which totally means he's doing just fine. Behold, he's even lazily spinning a few cents on the tabletop, watching how they fall with both a casual interest and utter apathy simultaneously. If that's not a man of sound mind, what is?

"Liliiiith! The fuck happened?" Does a Brit yelling across a bar count as a novelty in this place? Judging by the lack of heads reacting? Probably not. Weirdly. Hell, even Carver didn't seem to look up.

Lose one drunk, find another. Isn't that how it goes? That is exactly how it goes for Lilith, anyway, today. Honestly, considering she's already had a meeting with Alexander in the shop, who probably counts as a form of drunk even while sober when it comes to talking points... she's hitting a high note on men-with-issues exposure today. Or a low note. Or just a note. She doesn't look like she actually cares or is just kind of accepting it's that kind of day and it's in the tone of her voice as she clarifies for the bartender while her eyes are turned to stare at Carver in a booth after her yells her name. "... Skyy. Salt edge too, please." Her bottom lip takes trap between teeth with consideration, but it's momentary.

Mostly she's waiting for her drink and looking like 'okay, we're doing this' in a moment of preparation. Slipping from seat carefully after she's gotten a glass in hand, she carries over to slide into the booth opposite Carver to facilitate normal conversation levels, "... you understand that question is very broad in this town, right?" She takes a moment to look him over and notes the combed hair visibly, "Hot date meeting you here? You look close to shiny. Pun intended."

Carver isn't drunk yet. In fact, Lilith hasn't seen a drunk Carver. Hell, nobody in town has seen a drunk Carver. Which, thinking about it, should unnerve a few people. He's definitely rocking a distinct enough amount to say, 'take the edge off' though. Those coins on the table keep on spinning, picked up with a thumb and forefinger and sent turning like the man's incapable of finding anything better to occupy his time with. Over. And Over.

And even when Lilith moves in to take a seat, his eyes still hang down on the change, watching as he sends all five of them going at once, his face propped up by a hand that distorts his cheek somewhat. "Every question is broad in this town, love. Well-" Tails. "Nearly. Depends on how many guys around here flirt with innuendo and allusion." Tails. His neck shifts, body leaning back a little so he can actually look up at the new drinking companion, the usual smile more weary than soft. "'Wanna go for a tumble in the back of my van' for example? Broad as shit." Tails. Tails. Those two coins go almost simultaneously. His eyes drop again to the last, still spinning going. "And naw. No date. Stole her shower, figured I might as well groom a little. You're looking a little rough. No offense meant." Carver's a charmer.

Heads.

"Fucker."

There's a moment where Lilith tilts her head and watches Carver in silence with his coin production on the tabletop in front of her, having a very long drink from her glass upon listening. Then she draws in a slow breath and it's as if the very mention of her looking rough reminds her that she feels that way too. So she takes another drink after slow motion squirm shifting to get more comfortable while seated across. Her words are somewhat weighed at first, but then they pick up some with a certain amount of resignation to the sound.

"I... took a crossbow bolt in the stomach at the theatre. Because things changed, of course, we can't have nice things, it seems. But someone saw to me. Just achy considering how I was seen to and what the body does to compensate, I guess. Or at least, I'm assuming, because I've never actually been... worked on like that, before. It's odd. Convenient. Odd."

After pulling in another breath, she looks at Carver more closely, mascara-darkened lashes squinting some, suddenly trying to recall, "Were you there? Yesterday?"

Stacking up the coins now that they've well and truly let him down, Carver actually lets his focus fall on Lilith properly. Well, it obviously did at some point earlier, but now she can actually notice it. Bonus. He throws a quick, longing glance towards the empty glass that sits on his side of the table, seem to ponder getting a refill, then casts that idea aside to reach down to where his coat sits, folded, on the seat beside him.

There's a rummage. The sound of a crinkling wrapper. Possibly, if one were so inclined, there may also be the sound of a dog's squeaky toy. And then finally, his hand returns from below the table to bring up a shiny foil packet. Of course the guy carries pocky in his coat. Who doesn't? One corner of the silver wrapping is torn open, pulling out one of the sticks to throw it in the corner of his mouth like he's done with so many cigarettes before, and the rest are offered out in her direction. "Someone else fixed you up with their magic hands, huh?" There's a little curiosity there, sure, his eyes glancing down to the edge of the table when she mentions where a crossbow drove home. "Feels weird, doesn't it? Like, you're glad it's happening, but your body is a little freaked out by it?"

And then to answer her question, he crunches down on his snack, offering a weary but tooth-filled grin. "Fuck no. I hate the theatre."

There's a moment where Lilith stops talking and visibly focuses on the man across the table after her little byline about how odd it is to be in pain and bleeding out, then suddenly closed up and feeling everything ache with knitting differently. Honestly, for someone who has the potential to -do- those kinds of things, she seems unabashed levels of weirded out by it all the same. Maybe it's different when someone's on the receiving end. Maybe it's because of the injury and situation itself. That or she fixes things, not people, as a general rule of self-imposed caution. Speculate at will.

When she stops talking and poses the question to Carver, her eyes take a flit toward the coins again, then they're being stacked and put away in favor of pocky, of all things. Given the way she was watching him closely for a spell, she might have irrationally suspected he was magic-pushing the coins because... someone might have planted paranoia somewhere inside when it comes to what Carver can or can't do, looking like he does to her.

"Good call. It was um. Well. I think I hate the theatre too now." The brunette makes drab quip before she suddenly tilts her head, "They're gone though. Supposedly. The visitors. I've heard two people say the air is lighter themselves, since. Does it feel lighter to you?"

"You ever tried to fix yourself?"

That's Carver's only response to being under a far deeper scrutiny than before, raising a hint of his brow towards the woman as he takes the un-partaken in packet of pocky back towards his side of the table, tucking it close to the edge. If he's aware of any unsettling aura he's letting off, he really doesn't seem to care that much. "It's like something in you rejects it. Like your own brain knows that what you're trying to do is unnatural and refuses to let it happen. Yet..." His palms come up, the man shrugging and taking another bite of his snack. "You can do it to others, no problem. Weird how that works, huh?"

Sure, Carver, keep planting seeds in people. See how that g-Actually that sounds gross. Stop that, Carver.

As for her question of the air? That smile's back, watching the tilt of her head with some curiosity before raising his empty glass in something of a faux-toast. "Fuck no. But I'm a pessimist. Like when I give my card to someone, I never expect them to actually call."

Lilith moves her head into a tiny drift of shake with a certain amount of briskness at Carver's opening question before he gives a detailed account of what does happen when it's tried. She doesn't elaborate on things, but it's clear she's a little avoidant in general when it comes to that particular 'way' of her potential abilities, because she's not bringing up any other times either to agree or compare. Despite that, though, she listens attentive and close with a tiny sniff at the phrase 'no problem' when he chooses that particular phrase.

Then she bites back. It's not quite retaliation for her being rubbed wrong, but she adapts mimic of British accent and brightens her tone to match a whole lot of off-the-cuff, glass raising at the end, "Charmingly passive aggressive too! Spurred and hidden at the same time by pessimistic realism, no doubt. Cheers, love." Then her lips twitch before a drink to drain the rest of the booze from the lime and ice.

Gesturing for another to the bartender after with lift of empty, she points at Carver's empty glass too, without asking if he wants it, then adapts her natural speaking voice again to rationally appeal, "But... let's say you're me. And you're operating under limited information with a particular Carver looking different in a way you can't find a rational reason for. Nevermind that the term 'rational' is a pipe dream here. Put that with rumors of strange visitors in town that want to eat me."

She settles back as the drinks are re-upped and wonders openly and curiously, "Do you call?"

Carver notices the sniff. He also notices the accent. One of them was harder to miss!

Straightening up in his chair, the man plucks his elbow from the table and leans back. Hands forward, fingers resting on the edge of the wooden surface and drumming softly in a calm, staccato rhythm once Lilith starts explaining the thought pattern that goes into calling the number on a very, very strange card. It's a casually inquisitive expression he wears, having segued from a short chuckle when she broke into an accent that, well, come on, it was British. It was naturally sassy. He's probably going to needle her until she busts out the full-on valley girl for that. The only time that soft drumming stops is when he throws her a thumbs up and a wink for the offered refill.

"Straight away." He answers. "Strange visitor in town, coupled with strange visitors in town? I'd probably call the one that at least pretended to be interested in something other than eating you." You can tell he's serious. You can always tell when Carver's serious. Even when his expression is one of slightly dumb smugness as it is right now. It's when he doesn't take the chance to run with an innuendo offered up on a plate. Behold: Lilith actually has one thing going for her that a creepy agent of the darkness working for the theatre doesn't.

"But then again, I'm a drunk from out of town that probably doesn't know what he's talking about, right? It's not like not calling would end up with someone being crossbow'd."

"Of course you would. That was probably a bad putting you in my shoes kind of example. That and it's still strange, wondering the things I wonder, asking the things I want to ask and hearing them aloud. How long have you been in town anyway? And did that 'loss' that happened to you, did it happen here? Or elsewhere? Is there a place in England that's strange like this? That's strange to text, see." Lilith says to Carter after a little roll of her eyes at his response, taking up the drink again immediately when it's delivered to drink quick. She doesn't down this one quite as fast, though, she pulls it close and nurses it with a pensive noise in her throat at some point with late catch on something else he says.

"Wait. You deliberately didn't go to the theatre? And had we been talking, you'd have warned me out of it?"

"About two weeks, nah that was twenty years ago in England, there's places everywhere like this." Carver deadpans the delivery like a pro, reaching forward to once again raise his glass in something of a faux-toast. This time, however, the thing's refilled. That means he can drink from it after, which is so, so much better. His expression and slightly lidding of his eyes at the taste proves it. The drink seems to be settling well with a stomach filled with chocolate cake, at least. "And I've been texted stranger. You could have always called instead."

And then there's her pensive noise, and even better, a realization. And a question. Carver so loves questions he actually knows the answer to. You can tell it by the smile. "Yes, and yes. Creepy women threatening me are usually a good sign that their stagework is going to suuuuuck."

Lilith works her tongue against her teeth at one side and sits in silence then-- she seems to be measuring or weighing what she's ordering to say. Then, after a small nod of her head, she works hand with carding fingers through her hair and settles back to drink a long and slow sip of vodka mix before nursing it close once more. And all that time she's watching Carver, unabashed and pensive. Finally, though, she breaks that spell and draws in a breath to speak.

"Okay. So you don't want to eat me. And the ones that did are supposedly gone for now. And had you not thought I was avoiding you, you might have warned me about that. Good to know. But..." She pauses here and steals a glance down into her drink, "While I do believe the cautionary tale angle, I don't feel like it's your only angle. A prelude of sorts, maybe. I still feel like you want something from me that I can't begin to fathom a what or why to explain."

She turns her hand over on the table with small gesture for him to blunt drop the other shoe, "You've set the scene, with fanfare, at that. Now I want to know what you're not saying." Then there's a bare twitch of her lips, "Also stop pretending you're actually butthurt with the wee barbs, pet."

Carver looks like he's about to turn sideways in the chair and put his shoes up on the table, if we're being frank. There's a soft wipe of the bottom of his glass with the back of his hand before it's placed back down on the table, followed by a quick brush down of his waistcoat to get rid of the added condensation. He looks... Not smug. Satisfied. Satisfied is a good word for it.

Okay, maybe he's a little smug.

"Nuh-uh. Well, kinda. But no." Are you with him so far? Good. His hand hovers by his glass as he watches her face, a slight smirk beginning to creep across one side of his mouth. "The ones that want to eat you? Never gone. The ones helping them... Maybe. That little troupe were like... bait fish. Chum in the water. What the big boys like is for someone all juiced up and gusto'd with their powers, throwing it out in hatred, or rage... and then..."

His fingernail flicks against the glass. The sound is as you'd expect. A short lived Ting. After a moment, he smiles. "And if you'd been talking to me, I'd have still told you to go. Told you to bring friends. All of the friends you could muster."

Lilith keeps herself sitting there, leaned back against the booth with her drink, casually watching and listening, but the smug/satisfied smile at constant creep seems to be irking her and while calm, she's suddenly not mincing anymore words, "I suppose it's a good thing the theatre visit went that way and I had friends to make sure I didn't bleed out. But you -really- should tell me why you're smirking about all of this and generally playing dance about. I -get- it. You're -quirky-. But the fact that you're sitting here rubbing my nose around in things... I don't get it."

"... You're still picking and choosing your answers and I feel like the smug -might- be you telling me how very valuable you are in regards to information on these things. Yes, no, maybe?"

"Okay, okay." Carver's hands come up in a faux touch of surrender, the smile flickering for an instant as those elbows re-find their rightful spot, resting his chin in his hands to watch Lilith's face for a moment. "Ask some straight questions. Just a couple, before I get all long-winded and boring, and I'll give you some straight answers. Well, as straight as they can be. Sometimes this shit's a little..." His hand leaves his chin to wobble through the air. "Nyeaaah."

"And my point for all this is thinking that you could bitch-slap the shit out of some terrors that come calling in the night. And I need that. Tit for tat."

Grazing her bottom lip with her teeth, Lilith leans forward some against her forearms and kind of skids her drink around small between hand space on the tabletop, looking back at Carver. "That last part there? That's what I wanted to hear." Then she pauses and asks three direct things, some hair pitched over one of her eyes as she regards him for answers, "Did your abilities just stop and break? Or were they taken from you? Have you tried to get them back?"

Though usually a little fidget or movement inclined while speaking, her general mood and state of body today have her pretty still while she's watching him and doing a tiny bit of glass sliding between fingers while waiting.

A thumb running around the edge of the glass, Carver watches the movement of his drink for a few moments, following the soft swirl with his eyes before looking back up at the woman across from him to answer her questions. In order. Blunt as he can muster. His hand even leaves the glass to rub the underside of his chin before he's got the whole two-handed-head-rest going again. "Yes. Don't think so. Yes." And he let's that hang. For a bit. 'Cause he's a dick.

Before he sighs.

"I lost them the first time I hopped through the... y'know." His head leaves his hands completely so they can do a faux-waterfall effect with his fingers. "Which, coincidentally, was the same moment that my friend you met stepped off the 12th storey roof of our block of flats back home." His mouth purses up a little, his expression a mix of 'welp, there it is' and 'I mean what the fuck?'

"As for the last question? Give us your hand." And he holds out his own, eyebrow lifting just a touch.

No longer irritated by his general presentation over matters that literally wounded her, all mental paranoia and whatever else lingerings aside, the brunette is quiet and attention while listening with open interest. However. There's a slight cut and narrow of Lilith's eyes when Carver extends his hand, as the request comes with 'us' involved as part of it. But she shifts upright from her lean to the table with casual arm fold and extends a hand outward somewhat slowly to meet with the extended one.

"... alright."

They probably aren't going to mesh and explode when the get hands laced up in holding together, but she sure is acting a little bit that way. But to be fair, it might not have a lot to do with any fear of what Carver may do so much as... a wary sense of her own abilities acting out if she's overwhelmed or startled. But we're all taking risks here, aren't we?

Well, if she was wearing a watch, it'd probably be missing the second their hands touched. That's just the Alistair Carver Way.

Or, it would be. Instead, the second her hand alights on his, he's watching her eyes. "Listen exactly to what I say. Close your eyes. Think of a... snowstorm. Picture it in your mind, and think only of that and my voice. There's no bar. No patrons. Just you and that view..." While he's talking, his other hand moves to pick up one of those coins, taking the edge to score a soft dent into the wooden surface of the table.

"There's a dove in that snowstorm. And you need to help it. but you can't catch it. You've got to help it by letting it help itself. That gift you've got. The ability to repair. Feel that in your fingers. The feeling you get when something starts to mend from your doing... and give that feeling to the Dove. In three. Two. On-"

Carver squeezes her hand.

Lilith still looks a little dubious, but that's been her general operating mode all evening, in truth, not the easy and dry pieces of affability and blunt turns. Instead, collectively, she seems a little fed up, not just with him, but lots of things. And her general physical state of discomfort probably is making it just that much easier to generally be more thundercloud than some brand of accidental charming right now.

After a soft puff of air, she rolls her shoulders some when their hands meet and then finally focuses on his eyes in level and direct fashion.

She carries on with instructions. Her lashes fall and she sits still with hand meshed with Carver's. And she listens naturally, by the look of her, at first. But something about her expression lapses toward the realm of concentration too, whispering warning all of a sudden in slow motion that doesn't at all stop what she's doing, "Animals... people... they aren't things..."

Nevertheless, with eyes closed, she goes with the count and her fingers make small return squeeze, lapsed entirely into focus now. Hopefully nothing catches fire.

With the squeeze done, Carver's hand pulls away with a gentle mutter of "Hey, nice work." And it really sounds sincere. Like, really really. The guy is a font of sincerity. "You can open those eyes now."

And when she does? He's pointing out the tiny little gouge in the table that occurred when she was concentrating. His eyes go to her. Then to the gouge. Back. Forth. And as casual as you like, he licks his thumb, then rubs it back and forth across the mark like he's erasing a whiteboard. Which, y'know. Does the trick. When he's done, the gouge is gone and the table actually looks a touch cleaner in that one spot.

The whole thing probably feels remarkably familiar to her.

But! No time to think about that. The Brit's clapping his hands together, eyes of mirth and mouth all a-smile. "Not bad, Lilith! Not bad!"

When Lilith opens her eyes, she bats her lashes at Carver like something is seriously amiss, because he's being so sincere and congratulatory, then she starts to immediately look around before finding the small gouge which.. she stares at with a sudden lot of unenthused noise, "Uhh." She can break something into flying and shattering pieces, so why is this... She pauses, watches Carver shine up the dent, makes another 'uhh' noise like she's trying to figure out how soft the wood is, then...

She blinks. She blinks some more and she is clearly perplexed because she's not impressed, nor does-- wait. Oh, wait gets written all over her. Then when he's clapping, the brunette wonders, "Did you just channel my power to be able to use a sprinkle of your own broken one?"

"I know, I know." Carver looks a little abashed at her sheer level of unimpressed. Really, it radiates. "You could do that in your sleep, I'm sure. Probably have, once or twice." He flops back into the chair. There's a little crinkling noise from one of his pockets around his waist when he does so. "And no. I didn't. I did not 'channel your power.' You did." Seriously. You can tell he's serious because it comes with a serious finger point. The bright-eyed smile might be a little at odds with the look, but that's okay. It only lasts a moment before he's reaching for his drink.

"Only works once. I mean, I can only do one thing. But you gave it. I didn't take it."

"But did I pass it through to you to grab onto? Or did I give you some measure of... temporary healing change? No. I don't do that, really. So I-- ahh." Lilith takes a long drink from her glass to drain it and still doesn't seem to quite understand, but she's getting there. Or rather, she knows enough, but the details are what she's taken a turn to stick on for the moment, "I can make people's abilities stronger by focusing my own. That's... a thing I can do?" See, Carver might have caught on that she breaks and burns and slams things together like a tempest, even from brief exposure to her. It's not that she thinks she's limited so much as she just doesn't understand the finer points or trust herself with living things when it comes to alteration.

Lilith, for her part, is suddenly staring at him like a wide-eyed kitten of realization and it's almost adorable, the demeanor change in swap with her big blue eyes prominent, "I think I know what I did to Tobin trying to save him too now. Maybe. Um. Say something smart, I'm listening."

"Pretty much, love. Got it in one." Carver pulls his glass up to his lips and takes a quick sip once he's replied to Lilith's bout of 'working things out for herself.' Again, for the second time in as many minutes, he looks pretty impressed. Hell, pleased, even. "That's a thing you can do."

At the mention of saving Tobin? Oh, that gets a lean in. A proper lean in. A sip and everything. "Did you heal the guy? I mean... tell me. How bad was it? I could only ever do minor cuts." Translation: He was scared to do more. Oh, so very scared.

"I was going to try because it was... him. But I didn't have to try in the end, Geoff was there." Lilith explains a bit distantly to Carver, as if she's trying to form words for what exactly she did do in the moments before it all went wrong, "I have healed a person one time, immediately after hurting him on accident... reflex apology made in panic. Then I ran away. Far, far away."

Once she's preluded with that moment, though, she shakes her head into sudden drift and tries to explain for Carver leaned in and ready, "He was going to be hit. Nothing could stop it. But I took the space around there and... made it wrong for incoming, right for him. Like I turned the angle of the hit just so to make it a little less deadly? I'm not sure. I just saw it happening and tried to make it stop with a tiny invisible wrench that would screw up one of the variables to protect him better. Does that make sense?"

Okay, details. Details Carver can apparently work with. As long as it's not to do with healing. Which is awkward because that's actually what he would really like to ask a favor about. "You ran from here? You... Oh, Lilith." Still careful not to nickname her, the guy just sips from his drink as she fades for a moment, placing the glass down and paying attention when she explains out the scenario.

And he laughs. "Oh! Pet! You jinx'ed it!" Possibly the only time those words have been said with such enjoyment. And without sarcasm involved. "I..." He just nods for a moment. "I know exactly what you mean. Yeah. It goes both ways, too. I saw our Mels throw a dart, dead center of a board, from the other side of the room. She'd never thrown a dart in her life. Only found out I helped 'cause she saw it. Or sensed it. Whatever. "

There's another sip of his drink for a moment, and then a slight raise of his brow. "You ever made a plant dance?" No hint of it being a joke.

"No... but I don't keep plants. They die when I get upset and it makes me feel... bad. And plants are alive, so I just..." Lilith shakes her head a little bit and seems to be getting overwhelmed by one thing or another. Maybe it's the two double vodkas too. But she also seems a bit proud there for just a moment as Carver confirms she -did- do something, little good it did for the sheer scope of the incoming at the time. She didn't imagine it and he has names for it and knows what she's taking about after that shitshow explanation. In fact, where she was starting to close up and go sullen after noting her trouble with plants, she smiles some instead.

Then she looks a little weirded out, rising out of the booth to tell Carver, "I have to think about this and sleep and-- I actually do have your number saved in my phone. Just... never used it." She doesn't say she's gonna. But from the look of her as she exits with a fistful of overwhelming new info to process... she might. She sends him another whiskey on her way out while paying tab at the bar and slipping out with Irish goodbye. Which is none. But whiskey works.