2019-07-21 - Meanwhile, Somewhere on HW 109

Magnolia could probably have just walked the however many hours back into town, made it to the bus station, found her car, and drove home without making much of a stink. But no, the moment she got into cell service, she buzzed Byron. Several shitty text message errors, a location that planted her somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, and mis-sending the word 'Duck!' to another client's contact, she has decided to plop on the side of the road on a short cement pylon and wait for Byron to find her. She's hot, she's dusty, and she looks pissed.

It's one thing to walk the length of the 109, but Byron has the luxury of being seated in the comfortable elegance of his car, the air conditioner on full blast, some classic rock playing over the radio as quite background music. However, despite the smooth ride, Byron isn't feeling particular comfortable about all. His mind is racing. He needs to in so many different places and now he's being forced to drive off into the outskirts of town. This was a necessary task, however.

The shiny black Rolls Royce Wraith is easily spotted in the distance as it rolls over the hot pavement. Attentive eyes keep watch on the roadside, looking for a particular perk young blond PI. Or that's what he pictures in his mind. The reality, at the moment, is far different from what he's used to.

Seeing her seated near a cement pylon, the large vehicle pulls over and the passenger door automatically opens for her with a push of a button. But even from where he is seated, Byron can tell that something is wrong. His own door soon opens and he steps out from it, calling her from over the top of car at first, though slowly begins to circle it in her direction, "Jesus, Maggie. What happened? where's your car?" There's a fleeing glance given the rest of the stretch of road, an attempt to try and spot her car in the distance.

When the Rolls pulls up, Magnolia scowls at it with disdain. Luckily there's a Byron in there, or she might kick it or something. She stays seated for a heartbeat until he's out of the car, and then she slumps off the pylon and onto her feet. She's not hurt at least, but she looks rattled and dusty and something else isn't quite right; beneath the dust, her skin has taken on an ill pallor and the skin under her eyes has darkened like she hasn't slept in days.

"We need to talk--" She reaches for him, but the moment her hand touches his forearm, she suddenly staggers forward and retches, emptying her stomach all over his shoes -- unless he's quick on his feet.

Despite the crime surrounding Gray Harbor, this wasn't the mean streets of Detroit, so there's little concern on Byron's part to simply step away from his unlocked car, the doors swung wide open to ensure that his friend wasn't hurt in any way. He's had to meet with various tenants throughout the morning, so he's dressed up a dark gray suit complete with a black tie with a muted paisley print and some fancy Italian dress shoes-- which Magnolia just happens to spill her guts onto.

Thankfully, it doesn't get onto the hem of his pants. Silver linings and all. He ignores the mess for not, reaching a hand out to keep Magnolia steady while the other hand pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand over to her. "Here, have this." Yeah, have it! He might not want it anymore.

With care, he escorts her to the passenger side of the car, so that she can settle down and feel the magic of the AC within. It's really cranked up to full power in there. Circling the car again until he reaches the driver's side, he leans in to grab the bottle of water from a space center console. He'll use this to help rinse off his shoes with. "Now tell me, what the exactly happened and how did you end up here?" He's talking to her from a position outside of the car as he cleans himself up.

"Sorry," Magnolia manages to croak from her bile-burned throat. She accepts the handkerchief, and she makes several more retching motions like she might see if she can't just turn her whole digestive system inside out. Then she settles, and she's being lead to the car with Byron's aid. She slumps down into the seat, sprawling back while adjusting the seat so she's at a comfortable recline. She sighs out a soft, foul-flavored breath, and then turns her mouth into the handkerchief once more.

Her eyes close before she manages to speak. "Was down at the bus station, asking around about Michaels." She takes in a breath. "Two guys showed up-- big black dude and this skinny white guy. They told me we needed to talk, tried to sound all friendly, but I knew the game. They threatened Lark, said some guy was already at my house." She closes her eyes, and anger twists her features. "I got in the car. Fuck, I shouldn't have gotten in the car. I should have called the department, got someone to get over to Mom's house, check on Lark." She bumps her head back into the seat, closing her eyes.

"They drove me out here, asked about Michaels... said that he was supposed to pass something off to them." She glances toward Byron, and guilt tightens her features. "One of them tried to shoot me in the foot, and then put a gun to my head. I had to tell them, Ron. I tried not to, but I had to tell them something. They know about the pawnshop." She closes her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Though he's busy rinsing off his shoes, Byron is listening to every word that Magnolia now says. Sitting himself down in the driver's seat, letting the son and some foot-kicking motions to help dry his shoes off, he turns to pass the bottle of water for her to drink, rinse her mouth out. Something. There's still a little over a quarter of liquid still in there.

The description given of these two guys could be said about any pair of thugs, but in Gray Harbor it matched one particular pair perfectly. There's this silence from his end, taking the dangers of all of this in now. "They threatened Lark?" With his hands now free of the water bottle, he reaches for his phone, also set upon the center console. "Want me to call and check up on her?" Or maybe she should do it.

This business was about Michaels. He should have known. Magnolia told him something about it just the other day. And then, it comes out that she had no choice but bring up the pawn shop. His body stiffens and stills for a brief second, before he nods slowly. "No. There was nothing else that you could do. I'll.. I don't know where Lilith is." He starts, before quickly adding, "She wasn't answering her messages or my calls yesterday. Maybe she's in hiding. She knows that people are looking for her."

"Yeah." Magnolia's throat is tight with anger and... fear. "No one threatens Lark. No one." Her words are breathed, and she tightens her grip down around the handkerchief. "Those two crossed a fucking line." Then she leans her head back, closing her eyes. "I asked Juarez down at the precinct to check in on her. Told him that Mom wasn't answering her phone. He said he'd do a check-in."

Now sighs out a little breath, and she doesn't open her eyes for several long moments. When Byron confirms that he doesn't know where Lilith is, the PI licks her lips. "Alright." She straightens up, brushing her hand across her nose. "Alright, so. Where's the box? I think that's what they are after, Byron. Does Lilith still have the box and the ring?"

"Good. Keep me updated on that. I mean, if those bastards do anything to Lark.." Byron will leave it at that. "These must be the same guys who trashed Michaels' apartment in my building." There's this strain in his tone when he realizes this. Those assholes were Andre and Graham? I mean, they could be out-of-towners for all he knows, but those two are his prime suspects and Thorne's non-too-pleased about that.

That's when he hears the question, Magnolia asking about the box. In this close proximity, she may be able to notice just how tired Byron really looked. Then again, he had a lot on his plate right now, especially with the addition of this recent murder. There's this blank look that he gives, a scrutinizing gaze given Magnolia. "I think so. Like I'd said, she's not answering her phone, so I have no idea where she might be. I've been asking around if anyone's seen her."

The phone still in his hand, he decides to drag himself fully into the Wraith, allowing the driver's side door to close and trap the cool air inside. "I'll send her a message. Ask her where she is. Tell her not to go to the pawnshop."

"Yeah," Magnolia says in a strained, tight voice. Then she clears her throat. "I mean, yeah. I'm pretty sure that they are. They were looking for something in there, and it might have been the box. It probably was the box." Her words are tight and uncertain as she looks out the window at the foresty edges of the highway. "I don't think that they are the actual threat though. They're goons. Someone else is directing them."

Her gaze ticks toward Byron at his tired look, and she takes him in, in profile. Then she takes in a breath that tries to settle the unnerving feeling in her stomach-- it's tightening around whatever bits of bile are still in there. "We need to find her, and we need to find out what the fuck is going on."

She watches him fire off text messages to Lilith, but the lack of response-- she can read it on your face, Byron-- has her grimacing. "Her phone still on?"

"That's how it always is isn't it?" Byron says as his fingers tap-tap away. "They are definitely working for someone unless.." And here, he pauses in his texting, his eyes staring out once more at the stretch of road through the comfort of his car. "They could be tainted the way Isabella was. In fact, I was heading that way right before I got your message. Wanted Clayton to help me look for Lilith while I watched over Isabella. Now, I'm not even sure what to do."

A short while passes and still no response in return to his message. His features, while a mask, still cannot help but show the frustration that creeps through. "Where are you, Lilith?" He then decides, "Rather than waiting out here, I'll start heading back into town. Want me to drop you off somewhere? Where is Lark right now?"

"Always. It's a cliche." Magnolia's tired. That much is clear. She rubs her finger across her mouth, and then she feels her stomach give another little lurch. Her head rests back against the head of the headrest. "Tainted. What an ugly word." Then she nods slowly, her eyes closing. "I don't know, dude. I really don't."

Then she licks at her lips. "I might see if Kevin can watch Lark. Or Bennie. Neither of them are my go-tos. Bennie and I only just started to make amends, so... the two bastards wouldn't make leaps that I would put Lark up with them." She sighs. "Look, I feel like... shit right now, By. I don't even know how this started. I was feeling fine all day." Then she presses her lips together. "At my mom's house. She's always my last choice, but I couldn't get my regular sitter. Maybe just take me there, and I can figure out what to do."

Of course, Byron is concerned about Lilith. They were close as children and she'd only recently returned back into his life. So if he seems driven to finding her and keeping her safe, there were good reasons. The cars starts forward down the road, waiting as passing cars drive by before he makes a u-turn to had back into town. There's this look given the rearview mirror, in the case that someone was following them.

While they are on their way, Byron looks over at Magnolia every so often, noting that she looked under-the-weather. "Is everything alright? Want to pick up something to eat and drink before we get to your place? I'll grab something for Lark too." Byron, himself, hasn't eaten all morning. As they continue along, he then says, "If you're up to it, I can stop by later to pick you up. I have a few ideas on where to start looking now, so I'll hit those up first." Their conversation continues in this fashion, with Byron keeping an eye on Magnolia, to see if she was succumbing to madness the way Isabella did. It's a mostly unevently drive to drop her off after picking up junk food, including those chicken nuggets.

The mere idea of food has Magnolia's cheeks kind of expanding with a caught-up breath. Then she shakes her head. "No. But, maybe something for Lark." Then she glances down at her phone, and she starts to go through her photos. Everything is gone. Every photo is corrupted, all her voice memos are static, and even her music files are unplayable. She stares at the brick for a long moment, and then she drops her head back. "They broke my phone."

Then she slips into quiet, letting everything kind of flow off into random bits. Magnolia has nothing to offer that could be helpful, but she's looking more green and flushed and pale and sweaty all at the same time. It looks like she has the flu suddenly-- gross, disgusting, vile flu. Good for Bryon, she doesn't throw up in his car.