2019-07-07 - Restraining Orders and Raccoons

5 minutes later..

Pulling up in front of the hospital, Michael is driving a red muscle car of some particular vintage that might be of note to a car guy, but nothing so spectacular that anyone should need to change their panties. Rumbling to a stop in front of the hospital, he has the windows rolled down and gets out to open the door for Lilith. "Hey there," he says as he circles the car. To Byron then, he says, "Mr. Apartment-man," by way of personalized greeting. Standing there by the door he makes sure Lilith gets in without further bumps.

This is not really what Lilith was expecting when she asked for a ride. For a moment, she looks aside at Byron serving as her man crutch right nearby like she's hopeful her luck -might- be changing because, this is not only a ride, it's a pretty and fun ride. Then she just kind of grins at him with vague lopsided slant of mouth like cops are a great idea, see. Small things for the now. Unfortunately, she's not in a much prettier state than the day before, she's had to put on the clothes she had in the wreck and she has bandages, but by some stubborn miracle she's walking on her own. It's not that she's particularly vivacious or anything, but is she animated in comparison to last seen and maybe operating on piss and vinegar and stubbornness? Yes.

"Hey you." A pause, "Oh. You know each other? Good. I'm a little bad at introductions. Among other things." Lilith was about to bite the bullet and do it, though, from the breath she draws and hand she starts to gesture with. Then she's shifting with assistance and a sidelong ready smile of greeting for Michael to slip into the back because she has less legs for that in comparison to Byron and it's really not any more painful for her than dropping down into the front. Bending is bending. "Thank you for this. It's probably nothing, to be fair. But I'm paranoid."

Still holding onto that Get Well bouquet of flowers in hand, Byron is dressed in a similar outfit to how he'd shown up at the police station, his suit and tie get-up, Despite the unease of it all, he was expecting a police vehicle of some sort. What he was not expecting was a muscle car. Red of all colors too. Helping to ease Lilith forward towards the car, he'll toss out an, "Officer O'Malley." He doesn't have a nickname for Michael. He barely knows the cop.

"I'd always wanted one of these." He starts. A muscle car was one of his dream cars. When he was still a small town boy. Now he drives a Rolls. "In black. But I like seeing it in a coat of red." Standing off to the side, slightly, he watches Michael help Lilith into her seat before he moves around to the other side, riding shotgun. "Obviously, this wasn't my idea. But as my own car is in a shop." He'll murmur, "There's like a car plague going around right now." Before returning to a normal tone, "I appreciate your willingness to help Lilith. Especially after what she's gone through over the course of the week." He reaches over, a hand grasping the seatbelt, to strap himself in.

The car is clean smelling, well vacuumed, though there is a slightly used bag full of clothes in the backseat. "Sure, no problem," Michael replies to the note of appreciation and circles back around to the driver's side, leaving Byron to figure out how to get in on his own. He glances then to make sure that they're both buckled up and rolls into traffic, making his way to the pawn shop without needing to be told directions. He drives relatively close to the speed limit the majority of the way, but it isn't a long drive, and there aren't many opportunities to punch it--so what more could anyone expect.

"Uncle Sam didn't exactly make all of my dreams come true, but when I was in, I managed to keep myself from getting a dependapotamus, and didn't have a house payment, or anything, so my money, what little we get an hour, all went into savings, and then I had 'the Bill' for college for a lot of it anyway," he explains, in case Byron is curious.

Coasting along, he angles the rear-view mirror to check on Lilith a few times. "So, the deal is, you come in, we'll get a record of the texts with the person, you'll fill out some paperwork.." and he begins to talk her through the process of filing a restraining order. Being a bit vague at times, both to keep her from dying of boredom and because he isn't a lawyer.

Lilith is lax about safety and rules and laws sometimes and shouldn't fear the roads like she should, because she's getting false security about riding with a cop driving and let's be frank, Hank Winslow never put a seatbelt on her in his life, nor did he make her wear one, so the habit doesn't seem to be ingrained for when she's passenger quite as well as it is for them. Her natural inclination is to start to scoot so she can lean forward over and between the seats to talk and that -almost- happens. Then she buckles up like a good gal. Between Michael and Byron there was no universe in which she was going to get away with that, especially today. And yes, she had it on during the wreck.

She takes note of the military and savings bit while looking at the window, then she turns her attention forward when Michael explains the pertinent bits, eyeing him in the mirror with her brows slightly knit. "Okay. What if the threat isn't local? How are they served? Can someone with a lot of money and good lawyers have it immediately dropped? What if the texts are from different unknown numbers each time?" She pauses, "Do they -work-? Or are they just an official scare tactic for lesser situations?" Maybe she just wants to know that question in his professional opinion. It admittedly is just a piece of paper. She's wasn't lying about being curious, but she's backpedaling all at the same time now.

While he's not a huge car enthusiast, Byron does have an appreciation for, what he considers, a good make of car. So though he has his own fancy ride with a lot of high-tech gadgets within, he'll still give this car's interior a good look, taking in the little details that one finds in a classic car.

Then he's being told a story. One that he didn't ask for, but he'll listen anyway. "I'm still paying off student loans myself, believe it or not." Not even the supposedly wealthy can escape them. "I know where my priorities are." This is said as a light-hearted joke. He bought out a luxury apartment building and owns a $340K car.

If Lilith didn't buckle up, Byron may have said something. He's also content that despite the type of car they are in, Michael isn't a speeding maniac. Not with all this bad luck surrounding the one in the back seat. When Lilith starts asking question, he'll let the cop respond. He can guess some of the responses to these questions, but he'll wait for the official answer.

"I mean, yes, it's possible to fight one, but the main thing to keep in mind is that having established that Mr. X is a dickhead, officially, on paper, even if the paper gets dropped--you've made it official, there is an official piece of paper with Washington State that says Mr. X fucked with you and made you feel unsafe," Michael explains while they drive across the short distance to town. Pulling up in front of the pawn shop in two shakes. Sliding out, he walks around to the trunk of the car and pulls out a holstered sidearm which he tucks into his belt along his right hip. "So, with that established, say we walk in and we find him sitting at your kitchen table? With that paper in the system, the D.A. is far less likely to come after you," he explains. "We, the Police, are far less likely to probe too deeply. Not to say it's a license to shoot someone if they come after you, but it makes your life easier if you have to, or want to file for a second restraining order."

Lilith gets out with Byron's help as Michael goes for the trunk, or she makes to at least and waits for it while listening with her brows drawing more and more together. Then she tilts her head a little to consider and gives the suited guy a look, reaching to carry the stuffed husky that's come along too with the flowers, regardless of how ridiculous it makes her look when she's out eyeing her shop with certain suspicion. It's daytime, but it's locked up because she didn't intend to be gone that long and hasn't had the wellness, memory, or time to arrange for a temp, really. Everything seems fine, though. She asks Byron for the keys because he has her misc hospital junk bag too with broken phone, keys, singed leather wristlet wallet (the purse and the rest of the contents didn't make it) and so on.

"I see. I'm going to have to think on that because I may not quite have what's needed to make it stick. But I know now." She pauses and casts a glance at Byron again like she's working herself up for some reason. Why? Nervous is written on her but nothing feels wrong. Then she points out, "Nothing bad has happened in hours." He might understand from her tone that's unsettling her as too much time passed with them about to walk in here where she's been toughing out lots of bad things for days. Her feet are -rooted- to the concrete like she's going to trigger something going in and she's gripping the hell out of that stuffed dog. It might seem odd to Michael to put so much stock into the fact that she's afraid to literally move all of a sudden like PTSD tick.

"Do you want the keys yourself or... I don't know how this works. Just walk normal?" What the hell is going on with her all of a sudden?

Nearing the end of the ride, Byron decides to catch up on emails and voice mail messages that he's received. He's a very busy man. In fact, the phone is to his ear once they pull up to the Pawn Shop and he immediately clicks it off. Before he even leaves the car, he looks from door to window, trying to get some sort of sense if anyone else were inside. Visually and audibly anyway. He then steps out of the car, giving Lilith a hand to do the same.

It's not only the shop that he's looking out towards, but his eyes scan the perimeter as well, almost as if he expects someone or someones to be incoming at any moment. He reaches into Lilith's hospital bag, before handing her the keys. That's when he notices just how tightly she's clutching the stuffed dog. He really looks like he's going to say something, but he practices much will-power to keep himself from blurting something out. Instead, once the key is handed over, he calls out her name, "Lily." To catch her attention, "Everything will be fine. We have a police officer right here." Because police officers make everything right.

"A single threatening text is all that's necessary to say, 'I don't want this person to contact me,' Lilith, I urge you to take advantage of the system, don't let him use it against you. Strike first. Especially if he has money," Michael advises..

That being said, he watches her with her feet planted and nods. "Well Lilith, everything looks secure out here, right?" Mike reassures her and walks around with her a little, just showing her that the exterior of everything looks the way it should, presumably. "So, I have no reason to believe you have an intruder, but just go ahead and unlock it and wait out here, I'll go in," he explains with a smile and waits for her to open things up for him, and pulls his flashlight and his sidearm off his belt so that he can just quickly search and clear the structure. "Just to be clear though, nobody should be inside, right? No relatives or friends with extra keys, I'd hate to shoot a friend who was about to bake you a get well cake in your kitchen."

"There -might- be a guy in the office, but seeing as to how it's locked up, he probably went out. Don't shoot the smarmy Brit in a waistcoat." It's a non-issue, though, Carver isn't here and they'll figure that out inside. Lilith looks at Byron when he grips her by familiar nickname, stares at him for a blank moment, then breathes. Her moments of open fear are few and far between, usually boldness takes over which isn't always better, but it's far more her. One of the two men here knows how dangerous fear is for her. And staring like that, she remembers what happened -last- time she was afraid. Then she wonders of the men, "Do you remember Dune and the Bene Gesserit? I want to be a Bene Gesserit."

That's really nerdy and irrelevant right now, but it makes sense to her, at least, if it doesn't to them. But more importantly it's Lilith rolling her shoulders out, taking the keys and moving forward to unlock the door so Michael can come in ahead. This is hers. She's hobbling but the grace in her spine and shift of demeanor says just that and she's not going to be afraid of what is hers.

When the pair are still talking about a restraining order, Byron looks to be daydreaming, his eyes settled into a stare upon the shop. He then blinks himself out of his trance. "This guy," he speaks of the person who'd texted Lilith, "Is a self-righteous asshole." He speaks as if he knows the man personally. "Get the restraining order, because if he's threatening you in any way, he has the means to accomplish his goals."

Then Lilith mentions Carver and Byron had forgotten all about him. "Right. Him. So he has a key to your place, huh?" He should've known or how else would he get in or out without disturbing anyone else. But what Lil says brings this grin to his lips, "I think you'd make a great Bene Gesserit, if I'm being honest. Even if your spontaneity and mean temper." This is said as a light ribbing and she'll catch this grin that the flashes her way.

Once Lilith unlocks the door, he's standing beside her protectively. Though it doesn't look like he's about to go in first. "Careful. In case the Brit is up there." This is spoken to Michael.

"Fear is the mind killer. Yeah, I actually used to quote that to green recruits on their first week in the suck," Mike mentions and once the shop is opened for him, he moves ahead and starts to clear the place. Simple as that. He goes through the first floor, and when no Brits or anyone else is found but a locked door to the second floor he comes back and collects the keys. "You two, stay here," he tells them and then walks off again.

He moves quickly though nobody present would know that, checking under the bed, checking the closets, checking behind the shower curtain, everywhere. Only when he gets to the pantry and after a brief bit of struggle, upstairs..

Comes out with a raccoon trapped in a hamper.

"All clear, I need to get to work, call me if you need help with anything else, Lilith," he mentions as he walks to his car.

"Did he just... come out with my laundry or--" Lilith waits outside with a grin for Byron and Michael's understanding of the Bene Gesserit comment before she looks at the former a little oddly as an afterthought. Her eyes sober before she looks back into the shop and lets Michael do his sweep for her peace of mind. Surely that's all it is. But nope. It's a raccoon. She's confused and gracious and all the appropriate things so he can go to work and assures she's going to get a new phone on the morrow and she'll be in touch and hopefully less of a pain in the ass.

Then she looks at Byron, "Now I actually have to get upstairs." And that sounds like a task to her.

Byron had already done a mental sweep of the shop and loft and while he'd sensed a living creature inside, it wasn't large enough to be a human. So, there was no need for him to alert anyone of it, thus he'd stayed quiet. He'll comply to the officer's words and linger where he's told, though a curious follows behind the other man to see just exactly what Michael will find up there. For all he knew, Lilith got a fat cat recently.

"There's nothing to worry about. There's no one there." He'll say that much to his wait outside companion, seeing as Michael is out of earshot. That being said, he continues to be attentive to their surroundings.

Once Michael returns... with a raccoon in tow, Byron just blinks and makes a vague gesture with his hand, "Officer, meet Carver. Carver, this is Officer O'Malley." It's all in jest, but as he had an inkling of an idea of what sort of thing may have been lurking within, he just called Carver a trash panda.

"Thank you, Officer." He calls out after the quickly departing Michael, "For ensuring our safety and from keeping this little critter from wreaking more chaos in there." Turning to Lilith, he says as he moves to follow, "You did say you wanted a pet..."

"I really hope he's out here smoking somewhere and heard that..." Lilith looks around for a moment after Byron's jest about the trash panda named Carver, a snort coming out of her nose. And suddenly she's forgotten she's a disaster because she's almost close to full laughter while walking inside toward the staircase, "I still want one. Lemme collar you. People pay very good money for that, you know." Then she snugs the captive stuffed husky like contrast to that joke, and she almost makes it. She almost makes it. There was more coming out of her then. But then Byron kind of needs to react instead of getting to actually enjoy Lilith getting to be Lilith without interference or mood or any insecurity about being dry with the dom-com.

She pointed out everything had been too fine. Does a raccoon in the cabinets sate the Bad Things that need to occur? Apparently not. The shop has a lot of aisles and lots of things on shelves and those shelves are bolted. For some reason, though, one of them falls over and Byron has to holeshot with Lilith the rest of the way to the stairs to avoid the domino effect of them all falling, crashing, and making messes. It hurts, but after sniffing once when all that noise is done, she looks at the stairs after all that telling him she's a big girl now and decides, "Fuck my pride. Up-sie." Then her and stuffed dog reach to beg him to just get her up the damn stairs.