2019-07-09 - A Breakfast Blend of Everything with a Side of Muffins

It's a gorgeous day, especially for Gray Harbor. Not too hot, not too cold, and more importantly: NOT RAINING. This means that the shop is doing bustling business, with people ducking in during errands, grabbing coffee, or chatting at tables near the windows to take advantage of the sunlight. There's a fair number of teenagers, loitering during their summer vacation. Alexander has a fairly large table to himself - anyone who might try to get him to share generally takes one look at him and moves on with an awkward sort of expression. His hair is messy, he looks underslept, and he's dressed a bit like a homeless person. Despite that, his actual actions are pretty ordinary; he's drinking a black coffee, there's a chocolate chip muffin on a small plate, and he's working a crossword puzzle with half his attention, the other part dancing up to the door whenever it opens.

Eleanor Lake, owner of Espresso Yourself, is in the shop today. The redhead emerges from a door marked "Employees Only" where her office likely is, with a clipboard in hand. She slips behind the counter, currently manned by Laine and Kerry, two students at the community college. She starts checking things off on the paper attached to the clipboard, as she checks inventory levels. In jeans and a pale pink blouse, Ellie is a familiar sight to anyone who lives here. She is a born and raised townie, attended the high school and the community college, and opened this place right out of school. She's likely rarely left Gray Harbor other than on vacations, and she's known, in whispers, for having theories about town.

Spotting Alexander, she sets the clipboard on a counter top and plucks up a carafe of coffee, bringing it over to give him a warm up on his brew. "Which paper's crossword are you working on?" she asks conversationally.

While children are allowed to enjoy their summer vacation, it's still business as usual for most of the adult world. Byron finds himself in Downtown for just that. After having picked his car up from the shop, he'd called Vivian up to meet him at the coffee place for brunch, since it's wasn't too far from her office. Both are dressed in their work clothes with Byron wearing business attire. Hell, even as he guides Vivian along inside with a hand placed at the small of her back, his other hand holds his phone. He has a Bluetooth headset, so the phone doesn't have to be against his ear, but he's talking to someone on the other line regardless. "That is correct. There's been a minor setback, but I'll be sure to catch you up on the details. I've got some numbers to give you. Right. Right." Where ever Vivian wants to go, he'll go.

Evidently Byron isn't the only one that is wrapped up in his phone, only she seems to be checking her calendar and not speaking with anyone. Sure, he's on the phone to someone else, but that doesn't stop her from asking him about some date a month from now through gesture towards her phone as she heads towards the counter in search of coffee, "I need to know if that date will work for you. Which means no work for that weekend, and we still have to..." Have to what, Vivian? It's hard to tell because she looks up in time to spot Alexander at his table, offering him a smile in greeting, "Mister Clayton."

Alexander twitches when Eleanor speaks to him, his head jerking as he raises it to study her. He relaxes, fractionally, when he recognizes the voice. "Ms. Lake." A long, long pause. "Good afternoon." He turns his attention down to the crossword, again. "Seattle Times. It's not the most complex, but enjoyable," he mutters softly. He idly fills in a five letter word for 'mountain call'. "Business seems good. How are you?" He looks up again to hear her answer, then notices Vivian and Byron entering. He nods in a rough acknowledgement of Vivian's smile. "Dr. Glass. Thorne." A long pause. "Have you met Ms. Lake, Dr. Glass?" He clearly assumes Byron and Eleanor share TOWNIE MAGIC and know each other already.

"Things are good, business wise. Luckily we didn't take any damage from that gas explosion," Eleanor replies to Alexander, arching a brow on the last term. It's clear she doesn't believe that's what it is. "How about you? Any interesting news?" She turns to look at the newcomers with a smile. "Welcome to Espresso Yourself."

Obviously, Byron know Eleanor. She owns a coffee shop in town. He likes his coffee. So even though he's on the phone and after he'd confirmed a few dates for Vivian's calendar, he flashes Eleanor a friendly smile, having heard part of what she'd said, "Do you know how much Downtown would be suffering if this place blew up to? I think the business world would cease to function." He then returns back to his conversation and rather than give verbal acknowledgment to Alexander, he just nods in the man's direction, his brows lifted oh so slightly. "Yes. I have some dates that I'd like you to write down," It's good thing that he can juggle dates and numbers in his mind, "And a phone number I'd like you to write down."

The outside of the inviting coffeehouse has several eye-catching signs outside: Coffee, Tea, and Free Wi-Fi. From Isabella Reede's perspective, all are incentives to visit it today.

The question, in the end, is from which of said incentives to choose, and her nature has never been above improvisation. In an already busy establishment, the door swings open again to admit her, long legs and business-like strides taking her from the outside awning to the counter in quick order. The Oxford academic, perhaps determined to enjoy the beautiful weather and damn everything else, looks dressed for a trip to the beach, or out to sea - the unmistakable straps of a bikini top is visibly tied around the back of her neck, a tanktop worn over it and pulled over the waistband of a pair of jeans shorts. There are sandals on her feet, their straps crossing over a set of silver toe rings - two on one foot, one on the other. There is a pair of Ralph Lauren aviators perched on top of her head, dark hair left in a tousled knot.

Though if anyone thinks she doesn't intend to work, much like a good portion of the adults within, the heavy books tucked under her arm would put those suspicions to rest. None of it is light reading, with titles like The Voyages of the Frol de la Mar, The Journeys of Alfonso de Albuquerque, and The Battle of Diu and Its Effects on the Near East. That doesn't mean, however, that work can't be enjoyable in some way - and there are a few other things in the world that Isabella was more passionate about than her work.

Crime must be having a slow day in Gray Harbour, because the next folks to roll into the coffee shop are a couple of the city's finest. Because who doesn't like the popo showing up with loaded firearms and ballistic vests to harsh the ambiance? One of them might be recognisable as a captain of some sort in the precinct; sturdily built, Hispanic. His buddy is a six foot something black guy that he often patrols with, who greets a few patrons by name with a broad smile as they pull up to the counter.

"Miss Lake, a pleasure." Vivian replies to Eleanor when Alexander makes the introduction, tapping something into her phone quickly before she slides it into her pocket. She then moves towards the woman in question, offering her hand out towards her, "Vivian Glass." She supplies the rest of her name, in addition to the Dr. Glass part from Alexander.

"Glad to hear. He's right. There would be wailing and gnashing of teeth if this place was damaged." Alexander has a bit of wry amusement there as he acknowledges it. "There's...a lot, actually, Ms. Lake. If you're interested. You may wish to sit down. If you have time." His gaze flicks to Byron and Vivian, including them in the sort of invitation. "Ms. Lake knows more about the larger picture than I do. She collects," he tells them, quietly. He looks up as the door opens again, and stares openly at Isabella as she comes in. And then Ruiz and his partner, as well! Staring is SORT OF like welcoming people, so that's what Alexander does. Staaaaaaare.

"You're too kind, Mister Thorne," Eleanor quips to Byron with a bright smile. "Coffee is the fuel that the business world runs on, true. But we lost the pizza place, and that's going to be a serious blow to the college students," she notes with amusement dancing in her eyes, and a glance to the two baristas behind the counter who fall into that category.

Said baristas greet the officers as they make it to the counter. "What can we get you today, Captain?" Kerry asks with practiced charm. Laine waves to Isabella in greeting from where he's making drinks.

Eleanor takes Vivian's hand to shake. "Doctor Glass, nice to meet you," she greets. Alexander's words have her eyes sliding to him, narrowing slightly. "Give me just a second to drop this off," she says, holding up the carafe, before she hustles back behind the counter to return it.

It's a wonder that Byron can pay attention to anything outside of this call and he's even rattling out dates and phone numbers for the person on the other line as he stands there, lingering near Vivian and Eleanor. No, he was not intending to sit with Alexander if he could help it. In fact, his eyes scan the room for an empty table as he walks to the register to put in an order for both his and Vivian's drinks. Only then does he notice Isabella's entrance, gracing her with a smile in passing.

"I'll have a large cappuccino. Skim milk." He then steps aside to let Vivian place her own order as he gets ready to pay the cashier. "Want a muffin too?" He asks, but without waiting for a response, he adds, "And two muffins. Caramel Streusel and Banana Nut."

Setting her books on the barrista counter with a thump, Alexander's stare must be palpable in some way for Isabella lifts her head and turns it to meet his eyes directly, a brief ripple of surprise on her sunkissed features - and considering the fact that he appears to be Mister Popular at the moment, as if holding court in the middle of the coffeehouse with so many people in his vicinity, it is hard not to notice other familiar faces also: Byron and the newly-acquainted Dr. Vivian Glass, the two of them as if stepping out of the latest issue of Vogue no matter the hour of the day. There's a lift of the corner of her mouth in a smile, fingers lifting upwards in greeting, before gesturing slightly to Laine, in the customary gesture of 'Coffee first.'

Ruiz and his (large) partner doesn't escape her notice, either - those sharp, emerald green eyes rarely if ever miss anything.

She turns her attention to Laine, who she also recognizes, albeit vaguely, given her part-time teaching position at the community college. "Just a latte, no sugar," she says, pulling her hoodie from around her waist to shrug it on quickly, jostling the moonstone pendant dangling from her neck. "To go cup, please." There's a glance at the offerings behind the glass case, lips pursing. "And a butter croissant."

"Large medium blend, please. Double shot of espresso for Moretti here." That's offered up to Kerry as the Captain rolls up to the counter, the barista flashed a brief smile as he goes for his wallet; presumably to pay for them both. "How is business this afternoon?" He speaks with a fairly strong accent. Mexican Spanish, judging by the hard consonants and dropped syllables. He slides a crumpled bill across, and his dark eyes briefly find Alexander. Staring, like a creeper. His lips twitch in something that might be graciously considered a smile, though it's a little wolfish.

"Does she?" Vivian wonders, looking curious about Alexander's comment, but then the demand and need for coffee wins and she steps in to add her own order for coffee, "Cappuccino, no foam, triple shot, skim milk."

If there is no desire to sit with Alexander then Byron might be highly disappointed as Vivian gravitates back in that direction to take a seat, which leads to her spotting Isabella and she comes to a stop. There's a quick check to see if Byron is paying attention or not before she approaches the woman, leaning in to speak quietly, "I'm organizing a certain someone's birthday party, and trying to make sure I invite everyone...Can I get your number for further plans?"

Eleanor fetches a small notepad and pen from behind the counter and returns to Alexander's table, sliding into a seat with an eager expression to hear what news he has to share. "What's the scoop, Clayton?" she asks with a grin and her writing implement poised to take notes.

The officers are given their drinks first, because it's always a good idea to keep the local law enforcement folks happy. Kerry smiles as she waves off the money from Ruiz. "First one of the day is on the house for first responders," she explains. "And business is booming, Captain." She takes Byron's order and tallies up his total. She gathers the muffins while Laine gets to work on the drinks. The place is a well-oiled machine but that's to be expected, as the two college students look like they drink their paychecks in straight caffeine. Isabella's order is taken but Kerry apologizes. "We don't have croissants I'm afraid, just bagels, muffins, and danishes."

If the subtle rejection of Alexander's equally subtle invitation bothers Alexander, it doesn't show in his weary, curiously flat features. He offers his own version of a smile to Ruiz - stretched and flat and strange - and there's a murmured, "Miss Reede. Good to see you," as she passes on the way to the counter. His eyes drop back to his puzzle as people scatter to get their various foods and drinks. He fills in another couple of words while he waits. Glancing up when Eleanor returns. "There's...a lot. It's not all mine to tell." His voice is low, but hey, if someone's actually paying attention to the weirdo, they might hear at least a part of him saying, "There seems to be a melted face monster in City Hall. An archivist. You're interested in history. But I don't recommend poking at it." He ALWAYS says he doesn't recommend poking at it when he shares one more horror he's encountered.

"You also, Mister Clayton." Said as she passes. She might refer to him by his first name, but never within his hearing.

No croissants. Isabella blinks, glances at the actual menu, and groans. "See this?" she says to Laine, eyes glittering with mirth, non-plussed despite a mistake that would be embarrassing to many. "This is why I should have had the coffee first before doing anything complicated like making a decision." She winks at the young barrista. "Bagel please, plain with cream cheese. Do you toast them?"

She's busily negotiating the state of her breakfast when the glamorous psychiatrist moves in her direction, her ready smile directed her way. "Doctor Glass," she greets. "What's u-- " The cordial greeting cut short at the woman's lean and the quiet murmur that has her winging her dark brows upwards. "What, really, already? I..." She fumbles for her phone, and checks the date. "....oh shit. I mean-- of course. Thanks for the reminder, here are my details. May I have yours, also?" She holds up the device for the woman's benefit.

The door opens and in steps a tall woman wearing, most notably, a pair of aviators with a mirror shine, and the look of someone who has been on the road for too long. Love’s clothing is a bit rumpled from the drive, but it’s cotton so the wrinkles should fall out soon. Her grey tee is tied up under her ribs, dark blue skinny jeans unremarkable aside from what might be a Cheeto stain on the thigh. A pair of patent leather Chucks on her feet squeak a bit as she steps inside. She glances around briefly, shades in place still, probably looking for the ladies room. Road trip first stop when you hit a new town: have a pee and, for the love of god, find the caffeine.

Gathering up their muffins and his cup of his coffee, Vivian having already taken her own, Byron looks to be finishing up with his call. This doesn't mean that he doesn't notice Vivian heading in Alexander's direction, which elicits a dramatic rolling of his eyes. "It's actually a wonderful summer day out here in Gray Harbor. When you have the time, I think you could drive out here and check it out. I'll even reserve a room for you at the Apartments. Right. Yes. Just let me know and I'll mark you down on my calendar." That's when he takes notice of Ruiz and rather than joining Vivian at her table immediately, he approaches the officer with his goods still in hand, ending his call with: "It was nice talking to you too."

Now that he's done with one bit of business, he moves on to the next, "Captain de la Vega, just the man I'd hope to see."

Eleanor's pen flashes with the speed of her writing. "Melted face monster? That's a new one. Any idea what it's doing there or what it wants?" She murmurs curiously.

"We do toast them," Laine replies to Isabella. And coming right up!" He nudges Kerry to get on that while he makes the drink. Kerry, with her hair up in twin mini buns, eyerolls at the goo goo eyes Laine is making at the professor. She jerks a thumb down a short hallway for Love's benefit, to where the restrooms are. She knows the look of someone who has gotta pee.

"In another month, but plans must be made." Vivian evidently plans big. Is anyone surprised? She pulls her phone out to plug in Isabella's numbers, and exchange her own, "It'll be formal, but open bar." Important things, open bar. However, she seems to be willing to wait on the rest of the details until certain people and their ears are not present. "If you're not having to rush off, you should join us."

Us, it seems, is everyone else. Judging by the gesture of Vivian's hand before she starts in the direction of Alexander's table again, taking a seat, "Mister Clayton." She sets her phone down carefully on the table in front of her, checking where Byron has wandered off to before turning back to Alexander and Eleanor.

Even if Alexander weren't the paranoid type who glances at everyone who comes in, it'd be hard for him to not notice Love. "She stands out," he mutters, staring at her. He doesn't mean the tattoos. "I don't know her." It's defensive, suspicious. He turns back to Eleanor. "Do you?" To her question, he frowns. "Ultimate goal? Unknown. It knows things, and its books talk." Because those are important things to know. "I--" Vivian comes to join them, and he offers a brief smile to her. "Dr. Glass. Are you well? Things have been," a long pause, "unusual. Still. You seem to handling it."

Ruiz looks up from his slouchy half-lean against the bar, where he was absorbed in checking messages on his phone and fending off commentary from Moretti on 'the hot ass at five o'clock'. Not that he doesn't take a look, because he does. But it's Byron who gains his eyes, and the relinquishing of his attention from his phone. "Mister Thorne. Dime que pasa. How are the plans for your festival coming?" He shifts slightly to retrieve his coffee, radio crackling as he moves.

If she notices Laine's goo-goo eyes, the Oxford scholar doesn't seem to notice, though it'd be difficult to believe, for those that know her. There is, however, a grin sent the barrista's way as he heads off to complete her order, but with him gone, now she can pay Vivian Glass her full attention.

Formal and open bar? Isabella's smile curves further upwards, inclining her head at the gorgeous blonde; the devil dances within those evergreen depths. "Putting some of that big city style into a small one?" she wonders, having absolutely no qualms teasing someone she just met. "God knows Gray Harbor could use it. You can tell me later what the rules are for..." She lowers her voice. "...presents."

The invitation takes on a profound effect; it ellicits a reaction that's both strangely relieved, and puts an additional flowering of good humor on the woman's expressive mien. "I could for a bit," she says. "Then perhaps you can tell me more about your practice."

After all that had happened, Byron is surprised to hear that the first thing Ruiz inquires about is the Festival of all things. Not that it's unimportant, but there are other pressing matters. "Festival preparation is going along as well as it can be. So far, most of our local businesses have been in cooperation." That reminds him , making him turn to look over his shoulder at Eleanor. "There are still a few who I've yet to reach out to, but I have other issues on my hands currently."

This seems to be what he'd like to talk about today. Returning to Ruiz, he then states, "We're holding a tenants meeting for the Apartments tomorrow. It's a way for me to address what happened there and, I hope, to help set everyone's minds at ease in a sense. Also, it gives them the opportunity to get to know one another." A grin forms on his lips now "We may not be as bustling or as populated a place as New York City or anywhere like that, even in small towns like this, where you'd expect everyone to know everyone else," And for the most part, they sort of do! The townies anyway, "There's still not enough time in the day to get to know your neighbors. Anyway, Captain, I was hoping that you might be able to take the time and attend. There's still a lot of questions that I also would like answered. Whatever you are allowed to share."

"Talking books? Now that's something I'd like to see. Has it been hostile to anyone?" Eleanor asks Alexander with the high curiosity of an obsessive who lives for this information. She glances up at his reference to Love and shakes her head. "I don't, but we I've seen a lot of new people recently. I think, maybe, the town is drawing them." Like it does. "I suspect there are big things on the horizon." And it doesn't sound like she means GOOD things.

Everyone's drinks and treats are distributed and the baristas move on to other customers.

"I love surprises, and I was figuring that this would be a surprise." The good kind. Not the kind this town seems to be adept at delivering to everyone. "Perhaps we can meet for coffee sometime this week to talk about it." It's unspoken, but very obvious that Vivian means without Byron being there to overhear the birthday plans. "But I can try to answer any questions you might have about my practice."

Which may or may not be a whole lot of information. But Vivian glances at Alexander to address his question, her smile turning momentarily crooked before she nods, "I'm as well as can be expected. I am, of course, still trying to wrap my mind around things, but I think that I'm learning to expect the unexpected."

Love catches Eleanor’s timely gesture and raises one hand in a rock horn salute, tips her hand and transitions to a thumb and pinkie out, underhanded hang loose sign as she wanders through, headed for the promised land. Her gaze slides over several occupants, ladies first, then Byron and the cop convention yonder. Then Alexander. No visible reaction to any of that. The grey-haired woman is goal oriented. She disappears down the hallway.

Small talk. It's clearly not Ruiz's strong point. He doesn't offer much of a rection to the manner in which his query's brushed off, and reaches over to turn his radio down as Byron launches into talking about something else entirely. Moretti, his partner, shamelessly eavesdrops on the conversation. "Tomorrow. What time?" A lid is snapped on his to-go cup once he's dosed it with sugar, and he downs a sip of it while he studies Byron. Brief glance to the tattooed woman who disappears down the corridor to the bathrooms, but his gaze doesn't linger.

Alexander shakes his head to Eleanor. "Not that I've seen. It can," he reaches up and taps his temple, "so it probably could be, if it wanted to be." Her theory about the influx of new folk to the town is given a slow nod of agreement. "Things are changing. I don't know why. I'd blame the actors, but it started before them, I think." He gives her a thoughtful look. "Do you know anything about a William who might have died some time ago? Possibly a long time ago. Male, early fifties, maybe a criminal or a millworker. Might be connected to the Baxter family."

He falls silent when Vivian speaks up, studying her. "You're very calm." It sounds approving. "Any questions? Like I said, Ms. Lake knows more about some things than I do. I mostly know about things that want to kill you." A shrug.

With Laine handing over her latte and toasted bagel, Isabella takes them both and shoots the young(er) man a look. "I hope you're preparing for the next lecture, young man. We have a test."

That said, she falls on a step next to Vivian as they return to the table the blonde has chosen. "Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of asking about your patients, but I remember reading some papers during my time as an undergraduate about forensic psychiatry and now that I actually know a professional in the field, I was wondering what you thought about a few concepts." It's chatter in the end, no matter how genuinely meant, or how curious the brunette looks - and all a camouflage for the lowered pitch of her contralto as she tells her: "Coffee sounds great. I've got a malleable schedule, so let me know when you want to talk."

Arriving at Alexander's table, she sets her books there and flashes that same affable look towards both him and Eleanor as they speak, catching the tail end of the discussion until that cheerful expression fades when she catches the tail end of it.

Might be connected to the Baxter family.

She says nothing, for now. Instead, she draws up a chair, spinning it around so she could sit on it backwards in a loose straddle - casual mannerisms for casual clothes, her gestures often pair with what she wears at the time...a proclivity developed after years of travel and studying different cultures. She takes a sip of her coffee.

Eleanor ponders Alexander's words and presses her lips together in a tight line. "Not off the top of my head, but I can look into it for you? I can dig back through some of my collections. I was thinking of taking a trip to Seattle to go through their old newspapers on microfiche. See if any stories big enough to get on their news radar from here were written up. See what outsider news looks like about is." She jots down copious notes regarding this William to look into.

"2pm." Byron says in response to the inquiry. "I know that you all are busy with the investigation, among other things, and I don't want to take up too much of your time. However, I would greatly appreciate it if there were some GHPD representation that might be able to fill us in on what is going on. There are still a few who are nervous, worried that it may happen again." Even Thorne isn't quite certain that it won't, there's a very small hint of that in his eyes, despite the confidence found within the rest of his features. "It's a mostly informal meeting. There will be pastries and other refreshments to partake in." If that will get the officer's attention!

He's still toting around Vivian's muffin and after giving Alexander's now crowded table a brief glance, he murmurs, "If you would like," there's even a sigh in his voice when he says this, "There's several of us gathering at that table over there." He won't say Clayton's table. "If you'd like to join us, I'm sure that there will be interesting conversation to be had." Whether Ruiz or his partner follows or not, Byron makes his way there.

"I've a number of questions, Mister Clayton...although I'm not sure that many of them are appropriate here and now." Vivian glances around the room, noting the unfamiliar faces before her focus recenters on the man, "Perhaps you would like to meet somewhere more private sometime to discuss them? See if you are able to answer some of the questions that I might be coming up with. One in particular really seems to be hanging over my head, and since you're better at things that want to kill you..." Seems reasonable, right?

There is a moment where she considers Isabella's comments before she nods, "I'd be happy to share any opinions or thoughts that I might have. Forensic psychiatry is a fascinating field, one I strongly have considered making a full go of, but I never did manage the final push into that branch." She picks up her phone once more, checking it before she thinks, offering more quietly, "How is Monday afternoon for coffee?"

Alexander shakes head at Eleanor. "No need on my account. Was just curious, since you collect things." He rubs at his head, wearily, and nods to Isabella as she sits down. "Ms. Reede." A brief smile, that fades when hers does. He looks back at his puzzle, falling silent as he fills out a few more words. His attention darts from place to place, resting briefly on Ruiz and Byron, then skittering back towards the restroom. To the baristas, back to his puzzle. His non-pen hand idly breaks his muffin into pieces, picks out a chocolate chip.

He looks up briefly when Vivian addresses him. He stares blankly at her, as if he has no idea what would be inappropriate about discussing monsters in a downtown coffee shop. Then he blinks, nods. "If you like." One corner of his mouth turns up. "Need to schedule an appointment anyway, I suppose. I have some money right now."

Some moments later, the chill new arrival is at least thirty percent more chill. Love wanders back out of the ladies room, and there's been at least a slight adjustment to her person. Her hair, which was in a windblown knot atop her head is now in a moderately messy knot atop her head, slightly less 'slept in a car two nights in a row', now slightly damp after a round of coffee-shop-sink hairstyling. She brushes a droplet of water from the back of her neck and makes her way to the counter, chin up, shaded gaze most likely on menu. "Uhh... hi. Can you do a double strong soy chai latte. Dirty." Maybe she hasn't gotten to the tea portion of the menu. There's a tea portion of the menu, right?

Ruiz gives a curt little nod as the time's confirmed, and does a quick check of his watch as if to verify the date. "I'll run it by Thatchery, and let you know. I don't see it being a problem." The corners of his mouth, oft found in a slight downturn, twitch with a faint smile. "I'll do my best to alleviate any unfounded fears, and see what information I can provide." As to the offer of joining Clayton's table (because of course it's Clayton's table), he holds up a hand. "Still on duty, I'm afraid. I'll be in touch, though." Into his radio, a few crisp words as he pulls away from the counter with Moretti in tow, "Unit three three seven, ten-eight."

"I collect tons of things, that's the problem. I need to sort through it all to see if this William comes up at all. Gimme a few days and I'll let you know what I find," Eleanor notes to Alexander with a smile. This is the stuff she lives for, digging into the weird past, present, and future of Gray Harbor. Her phone beeps at her. "Coffee shipment is here, I have to go sign for it. Everyone enjoy your beverages!" With that, the redhead gathers up her things and heads into the back.

Kerry nods to love and calls the order back to Laine, who is staring with those heart eyes at Love. The kid is so pathetic. "Sure we can, no problem."

The interplay between Vivian and Alexander catches her attention and she can't help but wonder over it; a session? Still, with Isabella's earlier assertion not to ask the woman about her patients, she doesn't indulge her curiosity further, opting instead to carefully tear the top of the paper bag keeping her bagel warm, crunching into one of its half-slices. Napkins on the table, she wipes her fingers, and at the investigator's smile turned in her direction, she returns it. "We meet again, Mister Clayton. How are you?"

The fact that forensic psychiatry is a field that Vivian considered once has her canting her head to regard the other woman. "It's interesting - I don't know much about mental health, but the brain's a fascinating engine. I'd love to pick yours one day, though not..." And her faint amusement returns, her mischievous nature pushing forward. "...today. There's beautiful weather outside, I intend to enjoy it at some point when I still can."

She's about to answer in the affirmative, audibly, but with Byron and Ruiz returning to their table, she flashes the psychiatrist a surreptitious thumbs-up.

Her childhood friend's tail end comment is one she does hear, however, and that mischievous look finds a new target once he's close. "...please don't tell me you're actually outright bribing a police officer with coffee and donuts," she says of the pastries and refreshments comment, her smile - quick, brilliant, and nigh-near perpetual - angled Ruiz's way. "Don't fall for it, officer, it's a trap."

She's clearly jesting, though. That look of superb innocence on her features is liable to have her convicted on the spot.

Thorne seems content by de la Vega's response, giving the man a polite smile and a nod. "Thank you. I'll be looking forward to seeing you there."

He keeps up that pleasant demeanor on his way to Alexander's table, leaning forward to set Vivian's muffin that he'd been holding out for ransom this whole time. Though it was never said which muffin belonged to which person, so he sets both down before her so she can take her pick. As always, Isabella's bit of humor brings this smirk to his lips. "Hey. I'm hoping to get some answers myself. I had little luck the first time I went to the station. This way?" He shrugs. Yes, he knows that the first visit was shortly after the incident. There was much more time for the investigators to figure a few things out by now.

Taking a seat with the others, his posture mostly relaxed, he has to ask, "So what did I miss?" Before he finally takes his first sip of coffee.

"Tired," Alexander tells Isabella. "Just very tired." He nods to Eleanor as she stands up and walks away, his eyes following her until they intersect with Byron's path. Then he turns his attention to Ruiz, a flicker of what might be disappointment as the Captain's radio flares up and it seems like he's heading out. He follows that movement, as well, studying Ruiz and his partner equally. Until, eventually, his eyes flick away to find the approaching Byron. A curt nod is given. "Bribery and flattery. Both useful?" It might be teasing Byron. Just a little. He picks out a couple more chocolate chips, pops them in his mouth.

It was the request for her latte dirty, wasn't it? That always gets the cute college-age baristas. Love flashes a toothy smile to Laine. "Mahalo." She pulls a couple of wadded bills from the front pocket of her jeans, and smoothes them out to hand them over, waving off change before she moves down the counter to eyeball the food items available. "Caffeine will hit faster without the delicious carbs," she murmurs to herself, likely unaware she's even spoken. She turns her head slightly at the mention of bribery, a flicker of a smile but no commentary. While waiting for her dirty chai, she makes her way over to take a lean against the wall not far from the counter, and tips her head back against that wall. Can you sleep standing up? Probably she's resting her eyes... or watching the cops leave.

"No es para preocuparse," quips de la Vega in response to Isabella's warning, matching her brilliant smile with a briefly disarming one of his own as he prowls past. "I am onto him." It's gone - the smile - by the time he reaches the door. And by then, he's deep in conversation with Moretti about some new and terrible show the guy is trying to get him to watch. To no particular success, by the sound of it. Alexander is shot a brief parting glance before the Mexican shoulders the door open and hustles on out.

"Of course, any time this week that works for you would be fine." Vivian offers to Alexander with a nod, giving Isabella a curious look at the thumbs up. However, the reason for it becomes clear when Byron finally joins them, and she offers him a smile, "Byron. We were just talking about how wonderful the weather is today."

They were not. Exactly. But the lifeline thrown out for the conversation is taken and ran with as Vivian reaches for the banana muffin, sliding the other one towards Byron. As the topic shifts towards answers to things she simply settles in to begin tearing apart the muffin into smaller pieces to eat. "Bribery and flattery work better than intimidation and torture. Usually." She offers, then glances at Isabella, offering her a smile, "Speaking of, you're always welcome to pick my brain."

"Well, I never knew you not to adapt when you got a 'no' instead of a 'yes' in the first attempt," Isabella tells Byron, somehow managing to keep herself from levying upon him the full force of her mirth, though it remains evident in those emerald irises. "Let me know if this new approach works. Maybe I'll actually learn something about effective persuasion."

Slender fingers reach forward to start tearing her bagel into careful bite sized pieces, head tilted Alexander's way when he expresses his exhaustion, scrutinizing his haggard face and the circles under his eyes. "Have you ever tried yoga?" she wonders, popping a bit of her bagel and cream cheese in her mouth. And should anyone think she's joking again, she lifts her fingers. "No, I'm serious. It improves your circulation, tones you up, and some level of meditation figures into it . It teaches you how to breathe, helps control anxiety and even improves your sleep. Though any form of exercise actually helps with that, any rigorous activity. Jogging, swimming, sex...the two of us haven't known each other for very long but I trust the root of all of it isn't just physical."

Vivian's little white lie has her giving the blonde woman a sideways glance, though she manages to hide the amusement that threatens to appear with a strategic pull of her latte. Her invitation, in the end, earns her an open laugh, the sound of it as unfettered as the rest of her. "Oh, no. Byron, don't tell me you haven't warned her about me. You don't just open the door like that, I'm not shy at all in taking you up on it. We'll talk more later, of course." She playfully taps the corner of her cup against Vivian's in a little toast.

Alexander nods to Vivian. "Thank you. I'll text you. Or your receptionist. Do you have one?" He pops a fragment of choco chip muffin into his mouth, chewing quietly. His attention drifts back to Love, at the counter. Since she seems to be dozing, or trying to, he takes the opportunity to stare suspiciously in her direction, eyes narrowed. It's not polite, at all.

Isabella's words draw his attention back to the table. He listens, and there's a flash of humor. "Yoga." A pause. "No. I haven't tried yoga. I don't think it would help." A thoughtful pause. "Only one thing has."

When Ruiz walks pass them, right behind Byron's chair with that joking banter between both his police self and Isabella, Byron's posture straightens just a pinch, this wry expression formed on his features as he stares out ahead at nothing and no one in particular, only half-turning to glance over his shoulder once de la Vega pass on through. "Surprised you hadn't tried to sneak in to get a peek at the scene of the crime." He'll say to Alexander now, that wry grin lifted into a smirk when Vivian lies about their previous conversation, "I can talk about the weather all day if any of you would like."

Tearing off a bit of his own muffin now, he slowly pops it into his mouth, chewing in a mostly polite manner. "Flattery? Always a good tactic. Bribery, well I'm not going to openly endorse it." He'll leave it at that. There's this amused look that brightens his face when Isabella brings up yoga to Alexander, "You should try it. I hear there's a little dance studio nearby with mirrors and the like that could help with, you know, getting the correct posture." Though when Bella mentions sex, it does bring out some quiet laughter. He also doesn't ask about what Alexander's chosen technique is, instead, his eyes seem to follow along the lines of who it is that Alexander Clayton is staring at now. That's when he finally notices Love.

"Afraid I don't have one yet. Are you good at answering the phones?" Vivian can not possibly be serious about hiring Alexander as a receptionist, right? "But text me, and we'll get it sorted out." The conversation about yoga is at least amusing enough that she glances back and forth between them, then turns her attention towards Byron.

"We could talk about the weather, but I'll be honest, that's a boring topic now that someone has trotted out sex as a potential conversational topic." Vivian tosses a bite of her muffin into her mouth, "But probably wise not to talk about that, either." Which brings her about towards Isabella, "No warning needed, I'm afraid that I love talking too much to warn someone not to do it. Just don't be too shocked if I answer the questions."

Love stifles a yawn and steps over to the counter when her drink's ready. She passes over a tip for the youthful barista, takes her cup. "You're sweet," she says to the barista. Did she notice Alexander's look? Maybe, maybe not. She moves to perch at a small table, pulling out the chair to sit. Finally, finally she reaches up to take off her aviators, setting them on the table lightly. Her eyes are pale and silvery. She pulls an iPhone out of her back pocket and pokes the home button. And again. And again. Nothing. She holds in the power button. Nope. Thump goes the phone on the table and she tips forward to rest her crossed arms on the table, then drops her forehead to them, slumped over like she's going to have a nap there. Or a public moment. Quietly, though. At least those looking her way have two sleeves, shoulders, and the back of her neck full of black and grey tattoos to look at while she's doing that.

I don't think it would help. Only one thing has.

Isabella pauses from her absent nursing of her latte, green eyes following his angled, suspicious stare towards Love and her aviators, the tattoo'd outsider hanging by the barrista counter. Taking the opening, because she can't not, says with that same, unconvincing innocence while the man is staring at Love, "I hope it's sex."

Look, she's warned the investigator herself about how she is, that she can't help herself. Certainly he's called her on it before, how she actually could if she chose to, but really, would she ever?

But she shows some semblance of mercy towards Alexander - that devil's countenance softens into a face imbued with visible warmth, before she turns to Byron when he instructs her on the finer points of persuasion. He, too, engenders a laugh out of her, elbow propped against the backseat of her chair and chin cupped on her fingers. "I was never practiced at it, flattery. That's more your domain than mine. Bribery I have more experience in." He would know, back in the days where she would wheedle him on some prank or another with her mother's brownies, or another chance for victory against her.

Sex as a topic? Her laughter returns, and it's Vivian who gets the full force of that electric, incandescent release. "I appreciate candour," Isabella reassures her. "I have a feeling once we really get going, we'll be very difficult to stop. Not sure this town is ready for it, but it's just going to have to endure."

"Difficult to say. I haven't tried it since coming back," Alexander says without any visible discomfort. His gaze shifts to Isabella, and he studies her impassively. "But if you were offering?" His tone is deadpan, but there's a spark of humor there inside, and his gaze shifts away immediately, to look down at his puzzle. Crossword puzzles are FASCINATING. The rest, he just listens to for right now, frowning down at the paper.

Taking another bite of muffin, that easy smile on his face when joking with the others, Byron's eyes seem to focus on Alexander for a moment amidst the light banter. Oh, the grin is still there, but he watches the man in quiet intensity for what could be the briefest of moments, before the laughter returns to those same eyes, turning to look upon the women in their company. As he finishes chewing, following up with a sip of coffee, he says with a wider grin, amusement in his tone, "What have I done? I've created a monster, haven't I?" He says of the pair of Vivian and Isabella? "You're right though, the town will just have to deal."

He then adds for Isabella's benefit, "Bribery was just one way that you used to cheat." Eyes flickering in her direction from above the rim of his coffee cup, "And if anyone asked me, you tended to cheat a lot." If anyone asked him, of course!

One inked hand gropes for her cup, and then Love sits up like she didn't just face-plant for a full 45 seconds there. She glances over at Alexander. It's obvious now because she's removed her sunglasses. Her gaze sweeps him once and then she brings the cup to her lips. Oh, god, foamy goodness. Maybe she did notice that look before. Her gaze, her expression, are free of judgment. Unless he's doing that crossword in pen. Then she might have an unkind thought. The woman rises, a bit stiffly. "Lord in heaven." Muttering to herself. She takes a long standing stretch, arms up over her head, and then picks up her tea&coffee monstrosity again, and her mirror shades. She pats her left hand down her pockets. Sigh. She nips back over to the counter where she left her keys sitting. She scoops those up and finger-waves to the baristas before all 5'11" of her turns to head out of the coffee shop, presumably to get back on the road. She's halfway across the room before she remembers her phone. Which is on the table. U-turn. She scoops that up and stands there for one, two, three beats, just to be sure the table is clear. "You already look like a nut," she mutters... and then turns to the door. One more time. Ok. Go.

"You've not created a monster." Vivian assures Byron, that smile widening, "You've just created a perfect storm." Which is different! She reaches for her coffee to lift it up, taking a careful sip from it before she adds, in belated agreement, "This town doesn't know what has hit it...but it'll be grand, either way. I'm fairly certain that it'll be fun and possibly educational for the rest of the town."

But if you were offering?

Thankfully, Isabella's managed to swallow her bite of bagel; chances are she would have choked on it at that unexpected riposte. Green eyes round into the size of saucers as she stares at Alexander openly, lips slightly parted in astonishment. Like a unicorn stumbling out of the forest, the look she wears at the moment is an absolute rarity - perceptive, observant, like a honed blade, she tended to be sharp, who reveled in her near-preternatural ability to strike without a moment's notice. She does not get blindsided often.

...but ever an adaptable creature, she is quick to recover. "...that was a joke," she laments in realization, her face leaning hard into a state of such mock-mourning, it's almost convincing if her words weren't so exaggerated. "A real, genuine one from the hard-boiled investigator! Oh, god...is the world ending tomorrow? It is, isn't it. You know, there were easier ways to tell me we were doomed." She tosses a tiny wad of paper at him, crumpled from her bagel's packaging, but should he look up, he'd find her laughter all over her expression, the lines of her.

Accentuated even further by Byron's vile slander. "Alright, first of all, and I hope you'll forgive me, Doctor Glass, for begging to differ, but yes. Yes, Doctor Frankenstein, you did create a monster," Isabella says, returning fire in his direction now. "Second of all, between the two of us, you were the one who was better at it." Byron, after all, had an inherent skill of simply homing in on a person's desires within three minutes of amiable conversation, and armed with enough elegant ruthlessness to exploit them. "And you know who tends to groan about cheating a lot?"

She leans towards her childhood friend, lowering her voice, meeting his eyes with perfect, overt seriousness, her whisper a delicate, almost intimate thing...

"...losers."

That's when she leans back, as if anticipating his own whip of a crumpled tissue in her direction. But she's laughing as she does it - her enjoyment of the moment visible, surrounded by friends and acquaintances, there's nothing for it. Color pushes up from under her skin, setting her cheeks aglow, fingers splayed in a loose, five-point array against her diaphragm.

Alexander is, indeed, doing the crossword in pen. Because he's a jerk like that, as in so many other ways. He fills in a word, glances up, meets the intensity in Byron's look. His head ducks again, and he winces. "Inappropriate. I'm sorry, Ms. Reede." And then he gets hit with a thrown piece of paper - it bounces off the side of his head, and he blinks at it as it falls to the table. A look towards Isabella is sneaked, and there's confusion, then relief, at the mirth. One corner of his mouth curves up. "You would prefer a singing telegram? Could probably find one. If you liked."

He settles back, watching the interplay between the three of them. There's something intense about how he follows it, as if it's a language he's trying to decrypt, or something he's trying to memorize. He finishes off his coffee in silent observation.

Isabella had always been the playful sort, quick to react, even if it's throwing a wadded up napkin across the table in a public setting. It still amuses Byron, though, despite his growing up and playing the part of an adult more often than not in this town... "Watch it, Clayton. I've known Bella to throw heavier and harder things than just a napkin in the past." The tone used is light rather than stern. More ribbing for Isabella, in truth, rather than Alexander.

"A perfect storm." He repeats Vivian's words. "If that's the case, how about naming it Hurricane Thorne. Let everyone know who's at fault here, but really, out of everyone in town, I'm sure I'll be taking the brunt of the abuse." That is said more matter-of-fact, wearing his mostly neutral expression now.

All is well, until Isabella LIES ahem and tells the class just who is the biggest cheater of them all. The whisper, however, brings out this laugh to go with his open, almost incredulous smile. "Oh, it's on, Izzy. It is so on." It almost feels like the pair of them were back in high school again. It's almost like it's an after thought, but he decides to randomly ask, "Clayton, have you heard anything from Doctor Faust yet?"

Love departs the coffee shop without further incident, probably because the incident is still trying to find her.

"Hurricane Thorne? Very well." Vivian replies with a laugh, slanting an amused look towards Isabella as well, "Was he a cheater in school?" She wonders, turning her attention towards Byron at that, her brows lifting upwards.

There is a very brief moment before Vivian takes a deep breath, then lets it out, "I want to hear all about little Byron the school boy." Perfect storm, right? She glances at Alexander, watching him at the question from Byron.

"Only if you were the one doing the singing," Isabella ripostes easily towards the investigator, regardless of whatever musical aptitude he may have. "I mean it, Mister Clayton. The full deal, hat, suit and suspenders and everything." Her bagel finished, she crumples up the paper bag between her fingers; with the coffeehouse emptied, now, of visitors outside of them, she lifts up her hands and does a little freethrow toss towards the wastebin on the other side of the room. Despite it being years since the last time she played basketball with friends, it goes in effortlessly, touching nothing but empty air.

Byron ribs her for the times in which she may have thrown something heavier than paper, to which she angles a look her friend's way. "It's as if Byron's speaking from personal experience, or something," she returns, but the syllables are interlaced with something else - subtle, easy affection, though there had been one time or two when it hadn't been all fun and games. Isabella had a temper, and if the situation called for it, so did he.

As for it being on? His laughter is returned in spades, his incredulous smile met with an answering degree. "What do you mean it's on?" she exclaims. "Oh, Byron, it was never off."

They would have continued, easily, with the archaeologist's fiery temperament and Byron's need to answer and prevail against any challenge directed towards him, but two important questions fall in rapid succession - regarding Faust's progress, and whether the investor was a cheater. "I would say yes," she tells Vivian. "But then with the big game I was talking earlier about people who complain about cheaters, I'm very much trapped in staying in my prior position." There's a look at the crafty psychiatrist's way, she sees what you did there, Vivian. "So my real answer?"

She inclines her head Byron's way, exhaling a breath. "As I risk a lifetime's worth of crap coming from the man himself, no. Even then, he was determined to succeed and surpass every poor expectation people had of him before."

Alexander stares at Byron when he laughs, as if he'd never heard the man doing it before. He shakes his head, slowly. "No. Forensic tests take a while. Especially in a small town, when it's not an official case. It may be a couple of weeks," he admits, with a shrug. "I'll let you know when." He ducks his head again, reaches for the bits of chocolate chip muffin that are left. He pops them in his mouth, chews slowly. At Vivian's request to hear Little Byron stories, Alexander snickers. "He was a good kid," he offers, with a shrug. "Most people liked him. Industrious. I heard about a few of his early ventures."

A sidelong look towards Isabella. "Well." A thoughtful pause. "If I ever find out that the world is going to end, Ms. Reede, then I will acquire a singing telegram uniform and show up on your doorstep." A smile. "Just not before. I do have a shred of personal dignity."

It suddenly went from roasting Thorne to praising him. Just like that. Byron expects to hear both glowing and childish needling things from Isabella, but what she does say does bring just this hint of a smile to his lips. He's trying not to grin too broadly or look smug, but he is pleasantly surprised by it. In fact, his eyes even lower in a bit of embarrassment by such praise. Just a little.

Now, when Alexander offers up his own praise, despite the pair hardly having interacted during Byron's youth, it does take him by surprise. He's even sure that the question wasn't directed to Clayton to begin with. While he diverted his eyes to keep from meeting that of Isabella, maybe to keep himself from burning up in this praise, not that he isn't secretly basking in it, those eyes now lift to give Alexander this look. It's a curious one.

He'll make one simple response to all of this, "In a town like Gray Harbor where families are broken and times are tough. It's often enough that people don't expect much from anyone." He'll leave it at that.

Here, he smiles over at Vivian, "At least no one here has any pictures from that time, unlike someone I know." He's definitely talking about Tobin. Moving on seamlessly, however, he nods, "It's been quiet around town," Okay, not that quiet, there was a murder in his building, "that does't mean that the person looking for Billy isn't still on the loose."

"I can certainly believe that." Vivian agrees with Isabella, nodding faintly, "He's not really changed any, then. Not in that regard at least." She watches Byron for a little while, his reactions to the praise, a faint smile on her face. "He was always focused in college, so much so that even I felt exhausted some days watching him."

There's a quick shake of her head, dismissing that line of thought before Vivian glances at Alexander, "If I knew someone to suggest, I'd suggest an outside lab, someone that might be inclined to put the tests to the front of the line. Although I can't imagine matching x-rays will take that long, but then again..." She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't really know, first hand. Either way, I think that Miss Reede." And here she nods in Isabella's direction. "Was able to find out quite a lot, at least things are confirmed now. And Dr. Faust also discovered that little....matter of the residue, which again, helpful. So progress is happening."

"It's a blood oath now, Mister Clayton," Isabella replies, a fine-boned hand turning up, offering her pinky so he could hook his own into hers for a swear. She meets his eyes, repeating the two words. "Blood oath." Nevermind that there actually is no blood involved, but pinky swears are sacred, still - at least under the mirthsome confines of the moment.

If there's any disappointment about not receiving any word from Faust's tests, she doesn't show it. If nothing else, there's even a hint of relief, some excuse in the end to delay their return to the Archivist's domain and all of its indecipherable secrets. Her phone still feels weighty, after a fashion, her texts with Byron about it immortalized within ones and zeroes - including the small, frustrated rant there about the creature in question. All in all, it was shameless camouflage, really, from telling her childhood friend the actual reasons why that spark of her notorious temper assailed her during the time they were examining Billy's bones.

Words she cannot say. She was never good at acknowledging them, let alone saying them, this part of her frozen within herself as it occupies the space her lost twin used to live.

Though thinking about it now reminds her of her own theories about the Archivist's cryptic statements about Alexander and who he really is. Even without Billy's bones and the puzzles they present, there is enough mystery in this table to keep someone sleepless and she can't help but examine the man's haunted, but comely profile as he addresses the others on the table. Picking up her cup, she busies herself there, unable to look at her childhood friend's direction though his reaction to her words do not pass her notice either - she has enough of a connection with him, better than most, that she could feel it without seeing it. She delicately clips her teeth at the lip of her cup to keep from smiling.

"He had his failures, also," she says, that air of innocence so palpable, everyone in the table can expect what's coming next. "He had terrible luck with girls back then."

Vivian's practical observations about the case at hand has her sighing, her head rolling back and her hand lifting to absently toy with the moonstone pendant that she is never without, rolling its perpetually cold surface against her thumb. She says nothing else, her gaze an absent, but volatile thing, filled with the things she can't eloquently express, electing at the moment to watch Gray Harbor summer life moving past the windows next to their table.

"Baby steps," she says at last, with perfect agreement with Vivian. "Anyway, a lull is good. Gives us time to catch our breaths, and clear our heads so we can look at what we do find next with fresh eyes. And speaking of, I intend to do just that." With that, she rises from her chair, picking up her coffee cup and tucking her books under her arm. "Gray Harbor's at its most beautiful over the summer, and there's clear skies and warm water today, I intend to make the most of it. And I think you guys should, too. Catch some sun and the fresh air."

To Alexander: "Especially you," she tells him. "Get out of the darkness and enjoy the light while it's still here."

Alexander grimaces, shakes his head to Vivian. "Outside tends to be difficult. It's hard for people outside to think about Gray Harbor, or anything /weird/ about it. It's more likely that the lab results would get misplaced, destroyed, accidentally swapped for something useless. Patience." He meets Byron's look with a blank one of his own. And then a shrug. "It's a small town. You were interesting. I kept an ear out until I went to college."

And then Isabella is talking BLOOD OATHS, and Alexander throws a startled, even alarmed, look in her direction. Before realizing that she is probably joking. Probably. The pinky sort of hangs there while he stares warily at her. Then lifts a hand and offers his own pinky. He doesn't hook it properly - it's more like a brief brush against her pinky, before he pulls it back like it might have caught fire. But there's a tentative smile. "Fine. Blood oath. Now I have a reason to make sure the world doesn't end," he tells the other two, in a stage whisper.

The flash of playfulness is there, then gone as Isabella stands up. "I walk everywhere," he points out. "I don't lack for sun. Be well, Miss Reede."

Something that Alexander says brings Byron's full attention to the man once more, his gaze, quiet as he steadily observes Clayton. He doesn't say anything more about this as either. "Remember when I mentioned," He's not quite sure whether he did or not, "that a lot of my memories of Gray Harbor were faded? There were a lot of things that I'd forgotten that had happened here. A lot. That's sort of what Clayton is talking about in a sense. Once you leave here, sometimes your memory of the weirdness fades. And believe me, if I had my abilities when I was in L.A., who knows how much more I could have accomplished."

There's this quietly tense moment on hearing Isabella bring up his failings. His mind scrambles to pick out the various things which Reede could possibly bring up, some of them incredibly personal. Not that his poor luck with women was not a personal issue, but there were others that had to come to mind first. All of them having left some emotional scar. HIs eyes close as he shakes his head, this cheeky grin pulling the edges of his lips, "Unbelievable." That's all he'll say about it, even if that pursed smlie remains. Isabella decided to drop that little bomb and take off, after all. He could say something in response, and in truth, his words could hurt more that it would bring amusement, so he pulls back his own punches in present company.

"We'll be seeing you, Izzy. Take care of yourself."

"I think he made up for that luck in college. All the girls followed him around." Vivian offers to Isabella, smiling at her in amusement, "A please...we'll talk soon, I'm sure." She doesn't make any moves to try and keep the woman there, instead she reaches for her phone to check it.

"Weirdness fades. Certainly." Vivian agrees after a moment, accepting what Alexander and Byron both tell her regarding the use of an outside lab. She leans back in her seat, a thoughtful frown crossing her face, the phone absently being tapped against her other hand. "There has to be ways to work around...official channels in a better way."

"I promise I've had my shots," the archaeologist tells the investigator at his wary look and his obvious hesitation in touching just a little part of her. Her grin blossoms fully after that, the devil returning in a dizzying rush, armed with a smile capable of cutting to the quick with that sharp, relentless humor. "So much for any carnal offers on my part, eh, Mister Clayton?" But she gets what she's after, this solemn blood oath.

I don't lack for sun, he says once she's stood up.

"That wasn't what I meant," Isabella replies simply, tilting her head at Alexander just before she delivers the following chastisement with surgical, scalpel-like precision. "Don't be obtuse."

Byron calls her unbelievable, and she emphatically points an index finger in his direction. "You knew this," she tells him. "You were warned a long time ago, Byron Thorne. If you wanted to escape, you should've done it at kindergarten."

And if he was pulling punches in public? Her smile remains - it's likely that she knows...and definitely that she's unafraid.

"Honestly?" she tells Vivian, plucking her sunglasses off her hair to perch them on her nose. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Talk soon, everyone."

With that, she turns, brisk strides taking her towards the door and out; those within would be able to glimpse her moving to the parking lot and the secondhand, cherry-red Jeep parked there.

Something Byron says draws Alexander's attention. He looks like he might say something, and then Isabella is talking about carnal offers, and he blinks a couple of times, startled, as he looks at her. "That's different," he tells her, with puzzled sincerity. "It's..." but then she's calling him OBTUSE, and he lapses into befuddled silence, watching her leave with more than his usual twitchy attention. After a moment, he sighs, shakes his head, and finishes off his coffee cup.

It takes a moment to retune into the conversation, but he does, with a nod towards Vivian. "People who stand out sometimes understand. And will help. But sometimes they just want to ignore it. Pretend to be normal. And now, knowing that some people work with the Shadows, it's harder. To figure out who can be trusted."

"Nothing but trouble, that one." Byron remarks once Isabella departs. There's no humor in his tone, no grin upon his lips, but most will be able to tell that he means this in the fondest of ways.

"Also, I didn't notice any of the other women on campus." Nope, he's not looking at Vivian when he says this, just leaning his head forward to take a sip of coffee, ending with, "I only had eyes for one."

The more serious discussion though has him shifting with his seat, improving his posture which had slowly started to wane over the course of their many discussions. Then comes out a question that he'd hinted at during the autopsy, "Are we burning it then?" He looks towards Alexander when he asks this, even if the man mentioned not having any say in the matter the last time. "Is it the smart thing to do?"

"Speaking of..." Vivian glances at Alexander, but then what Byron says catches her attention and she glances at him, amusement rising as she nods, "Oh, I know. She was gorgeous though, so wonderful taste...and kind, and loving, and giving."

As much as she could probably go on she doesn't, instead the smile offered in Byron's direction probably says it all, above and beyond fondness for him. Something to get lost in if she didn't jerk her thoughts back to the serious conversation, finishing her thought, "We should talk about that other matter, Mister Clayton. Remind me this week when you come by that we should talk about it, I need to reach out to the others as well." Which is only piece one of the serious conversation. "I hesitate to burn them or bury them until there are more answers...if you bury them, they can be found, by anyone." Them. She means Them. "And if you burn them that means we can't put them to use, and risk becoming targets by the angry forces out there for ruining their plans."

"I would prefer not to burn them until we learn anything that can be learned from them." Alexander looks away during the compliments and fond remarks between the two, finishing off his crossword as he talks. "If these are the real bones of a real person, then it suggests that the Dreams...retain. People who are killed in them. Some of them, anyway. Which could mean that some of the people who are simply lost may be retained as well. An interesting thought. I think. If the places they are lost could be found. If they are still alive." He rubs under his eyes, shoulders sagging for a moment. "It's a lot to think about. But as I said. I don't consider it my decision. I didn't find them. If you want them back to burn them, aside from the Collector's due, I will abide by it."

Smiling over at Vivian as she plays up her best qualities, Byron reaches out to break the remaining pieces of his muffin in half, popping one half into his mouth.

Something comes to mind now, he'd thought about it before and mulled it over in his head. It's Alexander who snags his dark gaze once more. "Shouldn't it be left up to this dead man's kin?" He doesn't want to say more, he'd promised discretion. "Not that it matters really, I'm sure anyone blood related to these bones would want nothing to do with them at this point. Unless possessing these bones actually grants them something."

"It's odd that I know of two similar, but very different items floating around. These bones and then the cursed ring." He's not afraid to bring this up. "Both have individual parties looking for them. What either plan to do once they get their hands on their chosen oddity? Looks like we're all trying to keep that from happening."

"It's not my choice what is done with them, but I'd not do either until there is no more need for them." Vivian offers, which is her official and final stance on the disposal of the bones. She starts to collect her things, brushing her crumbs off the table and into her hand before dumping them into the wrapper, then she gets to her feet to throw her trash away.

Once back she resumes her seat, legs crossing, "Cursed ring?" She shakes her head faintly, not seeming to have much of an opinion on that, despite the curious look. It's what Alexander says, though, that causes her to nod, "Lost places with people inside them....I wonder..." She trails off, her head tilting to the side as her thoughts seem to veer off into quiet speculation.

"Still not me," Alexander points out to Byron, blandly. Then frowns at his empty cup. "Probably not me." He shakes himself out of that sudden thought. "I'm willing to abide by whoever's decision, Thorne. That's all I meant." Concern touches his features. "How is Miss Winslow doing? Is she staying with Mister Gilford?" A quick glance as Vivian goes speculative, but he doesn't interrupt her thoughts. Intentionally, at least.

"Maybe we hold off doing anything until you get your results from the pink thing." Byron says far too casually, watching Alexander look down within his cup. More than likely, he's teasing the guy, since Thorne has been all for taking action on it rather than waiting for the shadow-- no, dark men to come.

When asked about the ring, Byron shrugs, lifting his cup to his lips to finish off his own coffee. Once it's set back on the table, he explains, "Last Saturday," the day of the explosion at the pizza shop, "a man came into Lilith's pawn shop and dropped off this ring. It's... let's just say, like these bones giving you a vibe that it wants to be buried and not burned? The ring gave off a seductive vibe of wanting to be touched. Lilith touched it before I could slam the container it was in shut."

He then shakes his head, "No. She doesn't want to taint Tobin's place with whatever she's got. Too many good memories there." His voice quiets when he says that last part, before the volume raises again, "Which is why I thought it would be the best place for her to go. But she has other ideas. I'll probably be checking in on her. She back at her place," the loft above the shop. He looks to Vivian, "I'd told you that Lilith's dad was in the hospital. He was beaten by who knows! There's no suspects or witnesses and Hank's awake right now and still can't tell us." He shakes his head again, "Anyway, Lilith was plagued by accident after accident since then. The other day, I had to rush off to visit her at the hospital. It wasn't Hank this time. She got into a car accident, struck a tree." Kinda like what Easton did, really. "Bad luck, sure, but luckily for her, she wasn't killed."

"The same day?" Vivian tilts her head very faintly, "I can't say that I wouldn't be suspicious about the two things being related." She glances down at her phone, idly twisting it around in her hand as she thinks about it, then she shakes her head, glancing back up towards Byron, brows furrowing very slightly, "That is just too much coincidence."

That's enough to distract her for a few moments, but then she nods, "I remember you told me about it, yeah. I hope that she is doing alright after her accident. If she's uncomfortable going home alone, or to Tobin's house, you should suggest she stay in the guest room if she needs someone keeping an eye on her."

"I don't know that anything it plans to share about me would be relevant to the matter of the bones, so there's no need to wait," Alexander says, quietly. "Something in my father's family tree, apparently. Very odd. My parents are very...normal. But," there's a self-mocking and bitter little smile, "I suppose I am very interested in seeing what makes /that/ treat me like I am the monster." He takes a breath as Byron continues. "It is her decision. But I'm glad you're checking on her. I wasn't aware people were searching for the object. A ring? Hm. I won't crowd her, but I'll try to keep an ear out."

His eyes flick up to Vivian at that suggestion. He stares at her. Then says, slowly, "I think Miss Winslow will be most comfortable in her own home. For now." He stands up, then. "I should be going. It was nice to talk to you both." And then? Well, he walks out, without saying anything else.

"Well, Clayton believes that the cursed item is of our world rather than the other. Man-made?" Byron says, a hint of a question at the end there. "I've asked Isabella if she could help with that matter. Maybe there's some texts about a cursed ring in one of her archeology books. I wouldn't advise anyone to get anywhere near it though, in case it tries to lure people into touching it again. As for who is after it? I don't think it's Dark Men and are more-- well, I can't be sure. It is a priceless ring after all."

He then bites down at his bottom lip in thought. "I'd thought about offering her the guest room, but then remembered that we live up in the penthouse. That's a long way for someone to accidentally fall. And a frightening thought that any one of us could be stuck in the elevator with her. Or worse. I don't even like the idea of her being at her shop. Not if there's people out there looking for this thing. Nevermind that when we took her back home from the hospital, various shelving began to topple over in the shop. I had to push her out of the way before any of it landed on her." In fact, that makes him just a little paranoid now on how she's doing... "I should look in on her and try to convince her to stay at Tobin's. Or make sure that someone's with her at all times. For now though, want to get a move on? I have to pick up a bunch of pastry for tomorrow's meeting at Vydal's."

There is an amused look after Alexander as he exits, then Vivian nods as she finishes the last sip from her coffee, starting to gather up her things as she mulls over the reality of that curse. "Maybe you can give her something lucky? Like a four-leaf clover..." She doesn't sound very convinced that would work, but if curses are real couldn't good luck things also be real? "Rabbit's foot..." She gets to her feet, tucking her phone into the pocket of her jacket before she steps away from the table, "Anything you need me to do to help with the meeting?"

"You know, that's a good idea." Byron says about the good luck charm, "Though I have no idea where the hell to find a four leaf clover." He then quiets down to think on his various good luck charms as a child, but none of them held much value to him. They also didn't seem to work. "I'll look into it." Reaching for his phone and tucking it into his pocket as well, he considers as he walks Vivian out of the shop. "It would be nice if you offered to speak to some of them, if they needed it. At least for a time." His head turns to look on her, "I don't want it to cut into your business in any way. But you could gain new patients." He then opens the door for the both of them to make their exit, "What else do you think should go with the pastries? I am serving them alongside water, of course, coffee, tea and wine."

"I'd be more than happy to talk to anyone that needed it, it's the least that I could do." Vivian replies as she moves through the door that he holds open for her, waiting until he's followed behind her before she continues with her other answer, "I think that all of those are fine, unless you're wanting to serve a full brunch of some kind, that is pretty much all that you really need. Maybe fruit, for those avoiding gluten?"

"Fruits, a good idea. Along with various hors d'oeuvres. Meat and cheese, that sort of thing." It all sounds like fancy fair, but it is an expensive apartment. Byron then laughs, "At one point, I'd considered ordering in pizza instead. Speaking of, since this will be held shortly after lunch, maybe Mimosas are still in order." He now has a long list of things to order and that has him reaching for his phone. "You were always better at organizing a menu than I am."

"Many, many years of practice, and learning from my grandmother then my mother...then doing it for the sorority." Vivian shakes her head a bit, "I'm just thankful that pimento cheese has gone out of style, because if I never see another cheese log again I'll die a happy person." She tucks her hands into her pockets, "Mimosas, no pizza though...perhaps if you ever decide to hold a movie night in the buildings then you can order pizza."