2019-06-17 - There One Moment, Gone The Next

The skies were dark that afternoon and Byron Thorne had the luxury of conducting his business at home. This wasn't one of his many video conference calls so rather than keep himself locked up in his office for the next half hour or so, he has the freedom to pace around the entirety of his apartment all while speaking to his client on the other line. Despite this not being a video call, he still sports his dress shirt, tie and slacks. A gold Audemars Pigeut at his wrist. He more than likely plans to head out some time after the call with other business to attend to. For now, he enjoys the gray view of the bay while working on brewing some fine espresso on the machine.

"I'll need some time to pick out the venue, but I think that a concert slash fashion show would be very well received. You just need to know the right designers to go with the right artists." With the espresso machine running, he sets out two cups beside it before wandering back across the room to meet up with Vivian in passing. Moving his phone slightly away from his ear for one brief moment, he leans over to give her a kiss, before continuing with the conversation without skipping an actual beat, making his way towards his office. "If you want to go big with big labels, then New York or L.A. would be your city choice... unless you want to go international. That's always a thought. However, if you want something on a smaller scale, a new clothing line, perhaps, indie might be a good choice for music."

For a time he prattles on about investments and how large a scale his client wants this event to be. Juggling two events is what tends to keep Byron busy. Though one has nothing to do with Gray Harbor at all. Then there's this sudden quiet, almost as if he'd closed his office door.

There was an office found, so she's mostly cleared her things out of his office, but her office isn't open yet. Which means that she is still lurking around the apartment for the most part, such as today. The gray weather outside might actually be part of the reason that she hasn't ventured out just yet, using it and the construction on her office as a reason to hang around.

Out of respect for his work she's quietly reading on the couch, wearing comfortable lounge pants and a tank top, a stack of files on the table, and a book open on her lap that she seems to be highlighting things in. It's clear that she is still working, even if today's work doesn't require her to be speaking with patients.

As he moves through she gives him a kiss in return, and a fond smile that chases his passage through the room before she turns back to what she was doing. The sudden quiet isn't that startling, it's possible that he really did close the door. But as the time ticks by and he doesn't come back out to finish the coffee she starts to get curious, the highlighter getting tucked into the book, and then she's getting to her feet, setting it down on the couch before heading in the direction of his office to see what's keeping him.

What Vivian finds is that Byron's office is completely empty. That's where the silence came from. Maybe he'd wandered towards the bedroom instead. Or one of the other rooms within the Penthouse. While the living space is an open floor plan, there were several other rooms in which one could hide in. Though it really wouldn't take anyone long to explore the entirety of the suite. Maybe he'd wandered out to the balcony without her noticing, but he wouldn't go out there in the rain and the awning wasn't extended out.

Maybe he went out, even if she hadn't heard the familiar Ding of the elevator. And there was no reason for him to do so, not if he was expecting to pour himself a cup of espresso.

None of that made sense. However, his cell phone could be found resting at an outer corner of his desk, right near the guest chairs. The call was still in progress... or at least it was. The sound of a man on the other end calling out, "Hello? Thorne are you there?" can be heard before it's cut.

It's just...not right. But there is probably some reasonable explanation, right?

Vivian moves into the office, looking around again just in case, even going so far as to check the floor to make sure he didn't fall. Which would be equally as strange as the rest of this, but again, there has to be some sort of reasonable explanation to all of this.

The cellphone is picked up, and Vivian lifts it to her ear, "I'm sorry, Mister Thorne had an emergency, and will have to call you back. Can I get a good contact number for you?" She moves around behind the desk, settling in the chair as she reaches for a pen and notepad to scribble the note, tone very professional. Like a proper secretary, even if that's not what she is she's not risking his business by not handling the rest of his call as properly as she can.

It does delay her ability to search the rest of the apartment, though, but she bites back the urge to hurry the man on the other end of the line up.

The man on the other end would voice his concern on hearing that there's been emergency and is kind enough to wish that everything goes well, even if Vivian isn't entirely forthcoming with information. His name and contact information is given and whether he's perturbed by the suddenness of Thorne's disappearance, he doesn't let on about it.

That just leaves Vivian alone in that office, Byron's phone in hand and yet the man is still nowhere to be found.

There is a moment where she glances at the phone, like it might hold the answers. But she doesn't go fishing around in it, because even if there was something on his calendar he wouldn't leave the phone behind. That'd be crazy.

So after a moment she gets to her feet, his phone still in hand as she moves out of the office to explore the rest of the apartment, "Byron?" She calls, checking the kitchen first to make sure that he didn't head back in there, somehow, unseen by her. Then she is on to the bedroom, once more calling out for him, "Byron? You okay? Something wrong?"

Silence.

Once the phone call is dropped, silence is all that there's left. Well, silence and the sound of rain splashing against the windows, the terrace outside and the town as a whole.

She would be alone in this penthouse for a good fifteen minutes, having found no sign of Byron anywhere.

It's a good few minutes past fifteen when the sound of something shifting in the office can be heard. On his return, Byron had stumbled forward in his disorientation, knocking his knee into the desk that he was standing beside before... what ever happened happened. He looked dazed. Pale. There's this glassy look in his eyes as he unceremoniously drops himself into one of the guest chairs, taking comfort in that rather than drag himself around his desk to his own seat. Or anywhere else for that matter.

Something has him bothered and he's broken out in a cold sweat, this underlying turmoil can be seen in his expression, while one of his hands grip tightly to the arm rest at his side.

Potentially the most confusing and agonizing 15 or so minutes of her recent life.

While waiting, after searching the entire apartment, twice, she stands watching the front door like that is the direction that she's expecting to see him come from. So when there is a sound from the office it causes her to jump, a startled sound cut off before it can really take shape. Then she's heading for the office at a quick hustle, pushing through the door with some half-expectation of there suddenly being a burglar in there. Which makes, honestly, about as much sense as the rest of what just happened.

Only there he is, sitting in the guest chair and looking like he'd seen a ghost, or had a heart-attack. Perhaps both. "Byron?" She freezes for a split second, looking confused before she hurries over to where he's sitting, his phone tossed onto the desk to free her hands up, reaching for his face, "Baby....what happened?" There is a quick check of his eyes, a hand brushing against his skin, forehead, then down to the side of his neck to try and get him to focus on her.

Despite the other treacherous dreams that he'd been pulled into in the recent month or so, this was the first dream in which he'd felt that gripping terror he'd experienced as a child. His father was the one person that Byron was deathly afraid of and though the haunt in this dream very well may not have been his father, all of those memories came rushing back to him when he and the other... children were huddled in the safety of a blanket fort.

That dazed look still in his eyes, he repeats in a quiet murmur what he'd warned the other kids, "Don't think of anything. He can hear your thoughts." That's something he'd always thought his father could do. When in reality, it was Byron's own projecting into his father's mind.

He was still experiencing this shell-shock despite how the dream had ended. It's when he finally hears Vivian's voice, feels her soft touch against his moist skin does his eyes begin to focus, chin lifted so that he's staring at her directly, unblinkingly for the time. "I must have..." His mind is still cloudy, "I must have zoned out and wandered off somewhere." There's this dream-like quality to his tone, but the longer she has his attention, the faster it awakens him. "How long was I gone for?"

"Who?" Vivian smooths her hand over his hair, then she crouches herself down in front of him, her knees settling down against the floor, "Who can hear your thoughts?" She continues to study his face, watching him, trying to gather up clues from his expression, his pale skin, sweat, glazed eyes. It's all noted, and tucked away quickly.

But then he continues on, offering more confusing things, more half-information. "I looked everywhere for you, and I couldn't find you. I started to think you'd left the apartment...." But he couldn't have, right? She was looking right at the door this whole time, he couldn't have come back into the apartment, right? She presses the palm of one hand against the side of his face, thumb brushing very faintly across his cheekbone before she answers the question, near as she can, "Quarter of an hour, give or take a few minutes. You weren't gone for long but...where did you go?"

On the question of 'Who?', Byron's response comes out automatically, without even thinking. "My father."

Unlike with his childhood friends and those he grew up with where he pretended to lead a normal life, Byron had mentioned some of his family drama to Vivian. He wasn't hiding that part of him from her. It actually made him feel stronger, letting her in on just how terrible his childhood was, something which he outgrew. It told her that he was a survivor. Though he may not have gone into too many details.

Slowly, he starts to come to his senses. He even begins to smile at her and at the way she tends to him with concerned words and soft hands. It's a quiet smile, one that shows relief, though it fades as subtly as it appeared. "It's over now. " He says of the incident, though doesn't move to rise from his seat. He then realizes her confusion and this is something he has no good answer for. "I know that this is going to sound crazy, but I was right here the whole time." He won't ramble on about the other mysteries of this town, leaving everything rather vague. "No. I wasn't here. But I was. It felt like I was dreaming. I was at Tobin's... looking bac-- thinking back on our childhood."

"Your father isn't here." Vivian offers, the words very quiet, reassuring. She knows that he knows his father isn't here, but sometimes there is a need for confirmation, given or taken it doesn't seem to matter much to her which one it might be at the moment. As much for her as him.

But it is over, and she nods in agreement, "It is over, it is." She agrees, her hand once more sliding against his hair before it drops to cover the back of one of his hands, curling her fingers around it, "You weren't here, though. I looked for you, here, in the rest of the apartment. I couldn't find you anywhere." She glances around the room, doing a momentary check to see if there is just anything around that would have hidden him from her searching. "How were you....at Tobin's?" She takes a breath, slowly letting it out, trying to sort out everything that has happened, and make it match what she's already known about him. "Describe everything from the beginning."

It really was over. This is something that Byron has to reassure himself about in silence. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Regaining his full composure, the disoriented and frightened man she'd seen on her arrival to this office after hearing that noise was gone. Back was the mostly confident and savvy Byron who she's know since she'd met him. He just knows that the answers that he gives will cause more questions than he'd want to further answer, but there's this smile that while only tugs faintly at his lips, can be seen more clearly within his eyes when he looks on her.

With one of her hands resting upon his, which had gripped the armrest just moments ago, the other extends to brush fingertips at the side of her face, pushing a few stray strands of blonde hair away from her cheeks. He knows that there's no hiding this any further, so he decides to be as truthful as possible in his retelling. The hand at her face slowly drifts away as he begins, "I remembered coming into my office and I was on the--" Oh shit. The call! From out of the corner of his eye, he sees where Vivian had set his phone down. There's that moment of business panic within him, but this story, it was kind of important. So he tries not to think about the dropped call for too long, just so that he can continue.

"I came into my office because I needed to look through a file and then the next thing I knew, I was watching television at Tobin's house. Me, Tobin, Lilith and Geoff. But as our child selves. Tobin's mother was there too. Or so we thought. At one point we realized that she was gone and that the door to the garden was left swinging open. When we went to check," his brows furrow here, dangerously returning to nearly reliving the dream once more, something which he has to force himself to fend off in his mind, "There was something out there in the darkness. So we shut the door to lock it out and it did everything it could to get in."

He knows how this must sound, but this was the dream he had! "We then all hid up in Tobin's room and I had memories of my father then. Probably because that's exactly how I felt when he went into one of his drunken moods and I'd be hiding in my own room, huddled within the blankets. The next thing we knew, the... thing that we locked outside, got into Tobin's room, but in actuality, it was his mother." Here, he shakes his head, almost dismissively. "That's the last thing I remembered before I found myself back in my office. I hit my leg against the desk and fell into this chair which was thankfully here."

Vivian tilts her head faintly, leaning into the brief touch of his fingers against her cheek, but she doesn't interrupt the retelling of the story. Even if it sounds unbelievable to her, crazy might even be one of the words that she'd use if pressed for it. What is saving him, or maybe her, from leaping to her feet to place a call for someone to come cart him away to the funny farm is that she knows him. At least, she's fairly certain that she does.

"When his mother came into the room, or that you noticed it was his mother, was she the same as always? How you'd remember her?"

It's a strange question, but she latches onto something she feels that she's familiar with. Dream interpretations. Meaning behind what the subconscious throws at a person when they have fallen to sleep. Never mind the fact that he wasn't here, wasn't asleep, and couldn't possibly really vanish and reappear. That's just crazy on top of more crazy. She reaches for his hand, pulling it to her mouth to press a kiss against the back of it before she shifts off her knees, moving to the other guest chair, dragging it over closer to his chair. "Whatever it was, you're safe now, from the thing in the dark, and from your father. I don't...understand how this happened, or even what happened, but that much I'm certain of."

Perhaps foolishly so.

Byron expected that Vivian would treat this as a therapy sessions. It's sort of why he phrased things the way he did. It really was all just a dream. So seated here in something akin to her patients couch and with her knelt down before him, he meets her gaze directly at her questions, though allows his gaze to drift, as not to look like he was challenging her to believe his words. "I.. I think so. She came in to tell us that the power was down. It was a stormy afternoon. Then she told us that we'll bring the cookies and everything downstairs and even went to check on the rest of us kids who were still huddled beneath the blanket after Tobin went to meet with her."

There's this fondness of when he speaks of Mrs. Gilford. "She used to take care of the neighborhood kids. Especially those who came from a rough family background." After that bit of information shared on how he felt about Tobin's mother, he continues with the dream itself, "She lured each of us out and gave us all hugs. Very much the way I remembered her to be." Those dark eyes return to Vivian again, adding some sort of emphasis on his own words.

His gaze lingers on her, watching as she takes his hand to press her lips upon his knuckles. Byron knows that he should say more, give her more warning about this town, but at the moment, despite his story and the fact that he was missing from the apartment, he's hoping that he's not coming off like a crazy person. "I know. I feel safe right now." Then there's finally a flicker of his eyes, gaze diverted as he considers aloud, "Though, I think I'll reschedule everything that I needed to do today and move it to Monday. I need this extra time to," Another shake of his head, "Comprehend what just happened... after I call Franklin again." He says of the man who he'd disappeared on mid-convo.

"I told him that you had an emergency." Vivian points out as she moves to get the note she wrote for him, tearing it off the little pad to then hold it towards him, "But I didn't give him any expectation of when you'd call him back, hopefully he's not too angry." She doesn't argue with him about his need to call Franklin back, and even picks up his phone as well to return it to him.

"When you get done, and shift things around we can curl up and watch a movie or something." Something that is normal. Safe. It's not a very subtle effort to allow him to have time to turn off his mind to think over everything under the guise of normalcy. And any theories, opinions, or grand ideas she might have about his experience, and what it all meant, she doesn't share, nor does she appear to think he's crazy. Despite the crazy story, and situation.

There's this sense of relief that comes over Byron learning that Vivian had the Franklin situation well under control. He even smiles when she tells him, though his eyes do lower to view the information she'd written so as to seem her efforts did not go to waste. He takes up his phone as well, holding it in the same hand as the hand-written memo. "Thanks. I'm not even sure what I'm going to tell him, but I'd rather not deal with that right now."

Finally rising to stand, listening to this new schedule that she'd made out for him, that smile brightens. "Your prescription for what just happened is movies and some... cuddling?" He sort of looks smug there, but then goes on, "I'll get changed into something comfortable. You pick out the movie."

"That is exactly my prescription for what just happened." Vivian agrees, reaching up to settle her hands against his shoulders for a moment before she leans in to give him a kiss before adding to that prescription, "I'll make a drink, too."

Probably not espresso, though. It might steady the nerves some, but she has another kind of drink in mind when she releases him, a hand sliding down his arm a moment. Then she turns to head out of the office to get the drink and movie actually picked out.