2019-07-21 - The Visit

Rebecca was brought to the hospital last night, after the police had secured the murder scene at her apartment in Bayside. She was in shock, covered in her sister’s blood, but otherwise seemed unharmed in the physical sense. Mentally, however, she’s been dazed and unfocused, often falling into staring at nothing for long periods. They put her under a 48-hour psych hold, not long after she called several people to let them know what happened: parents, brother, boss, friend.

She’s lying in bed, in a hospital gown that does nothing for either her complexion or her figure. She looks pale, with hollow dark circles under eyes that have a vacant quality to them. They have her hooked up to a saline IV, just to make sure she stays stable and doesn’t tip back over into shock.

Visiting people in hospitals is not something Vyv does often, a fact he had and still has no desire to change. Neither is dealing with grieving people. So it possibly says something that he is, in fact, here, arriving with a nurse, a suitcase, an arm laden with a bamboo plant and a box of (his) chocolates, and an irritated expression. So, nearly right? "Thank you," he says to the nurse, with an undertone of 'you can go now' which gets a flicker of side-eye from the nurse, who takes a probably-slightly-extended moment to look to Rebecca and make sure there's no sign of-- well, extra distress. With none registering on the machines, as long as she doesn't vocally object, the nurse says, "You have a visitor, Ms. Carr," before he turns to leave the pair of them alone.

Vyv gives the other man's back an unimpressed look, then turns to regard Rebecca. Right... The irritation's essentially gone, at least, replaced by a brief hesitation before he strides briskly toward the bed. The suitcase is set down first, on the floor by his feet, then the chocolates on the nearest surface, allowing him to avoid having to focus entirely and directly on her as he picks a place to set the plant instead. It's bamboo, a cluster of straight leafy stems in a cubic bamboo box, smooth white pebbles ensuring they remain suitably upright.

"You look awful," he says, positioning the plant in a nearby spot that seems to be both well-balanced and easily in view. The tone's odd, concern and discomfort combining into something that borders on petulant, and he gives the pot a tweak to get the angle perfect. It's only then that he turns to study her more closely, stepping in toward the side of the bed. "I'm sorry," he says more quietly, with a hint of awkwardness that at least suggests sincerity, much as he probably hates to hear it. "About your sister. How are you... holding up?" 'Not remarkably well' seems a safe assumption. But one's meant to say something.

Rebecca looks sluggish in her reactions. She is clearly sedated with something, because it had been a brutally bad night. What little sleep she had was nightmare laden, and she woke flailing and screaming more than once. But she seems to be fighting whatever they have her on, afraid to close her eyes.

His question is answered with a lowering of her eyes. Not well indeed. She parts her lips to speak, then clamps them shut again, a breath rippling from her in a tremor. “I couldn’t see or hear it. Whatever did it. Do you think,” she looks up at him, brokenly, “do you think it’s because of what we brought back?”

Well, there's a question to give one pause. And it does. Vyv blinks, hesitating, and his brow furrows a bit. "You were there at the time, and it was-- invisible? Whatever-- did it?" he asks, "...I don't know. I can't say it's impossible. Not when that was so," he considers a fraction, "strange as well." At least she can apparently trust him to tell her the truth about things like that? Though tact might have been preferable. Maybe getting that hint of being intrigued out of his voice.

He's still thinking, however. "That woman who was killed a few weeks ago -- where they still seemed so uncertain how someone could have. Perhaps that's how? And if so, I haven't seen any indication she had a connection to any of us who were there. The only person not us who was both at the meeting about that and the-- bringing back is Vivian, and to my knowledge she has no ties here aside from Mr. Thorne. And relations were at that meeting. Quite possibly this... happens. I'd say we can't assume it is because of the bringing-back, either." He studies her for a beat, and then actually reaches out to gingerly touch her shoulder. "Even if it were," he says carefully, as though it were a foreign language, "it wouldn't be your fault."

Rebecca nods in jerky movements as he says things to absolve her of her sister’s demise. “My doors and windows were all locked. Nothing could have gotten in. I have a security system, Vyvyan. How could this happen?” Her voice breaks and tears leap into her eyes. They don’t fall though. She’s cried so much since last night, it’s like her body is tired of it.

"I don't know." And oh, how Vyv hates having to say that phrase and mean it. It's not apologetic, but with him the low simmer of annoyance beneath it may be much the same thing when it comes down to it: the wish to have a better answer, to know enough to be able to give the explanations she needs. "I wish I did. Doors and windows locked," he repeats quietly, more or less to himself, "security system bypassed, no one seen or heard..." His eyes lift from the spot on the blankets they'd unfocused on, back to her face. A pause, and careful again, "But you didn't see it at the precise time it happened?" His fingertips tap soundlessly against the side of his thigh. "Could-- " A small shake of the head. "I have thoughts," he says, "but they're odd thoughts. Could someone use something like what happened to us downtown on purpose, to pop in and out where they wanted? Could she have been pulled into something like that? All I can think is to try to find someone more... local, to try to ask." Advice or an offer or both.

“I got up and all of a sudden she was flailing and gagging on the couch, and then the blood was everywhere,” Rebecca whispers. And I felt...something. Like something tried to cut me but failed. I felt pressure on my skin, but not enough to leave a mark. It slit her throat. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.” Now a tear slides down on cheek, which looks cold enough to freeze it, she’s so pale.

Vyv's eyes widen a bit at the part about her feeling something, and he shifts a little bit nearer, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, beside and aimed a bit toward her. It's not quite contact again, but it's closer. There's a faintly wary look at the tear, which he then pretends Does Not Exist. "Then there's only two-- no, three possibilities I can think of. One is that you were hallucinating for some reason, and it masked what was really going on." A finger lifts slightly as though expecting she might have an objection to that being voiced. "That would require them to cause that, and to relock things and deal with the security system. Potentially fits the world we're used to, barely, I suppose... Two is that the two of you somehow passed into something like the jello-town, but it was... subtler. Theoretically that could skip the other issues. And three is that someone can-- can do something like that at some distance." And isn't that a comforting thought? "Without being able to see, unless there's some sort of surveillance in your unit." Again he studies her face for a moment. "None of those seem like things you could be expected to prevent, Rebecca."

“Or four,” Rebecca whispers hoarsely. “Something came here from over there, and it can be invisible. And it is murdering people in our apartment buildings.” She looks over at Vyv with concern. “Why Kelly though? Why? She was just visiting me. That’s all! She was on summer break from Berkley.” She trembles with rage at the unfairness of it.

"Invisible things still need to get past locks and security systems," Vyv says, "...although I suppose as long as we're theorizing, they could also be intangible... or follow you in when the door is open, bide their time, and leave when the door is open again in the hubbub later. It needn't necessarily be from over there, though. Perhaps it's something a person can do."

And as for the why... he can't quite bring himself to give the most accurate answer again so soon, so instead she gets, "I'm wondering myself." And it's making the annoyance well back up again, seeping into his expression. "Something she's done or seen that we don't know about. Someone she resembles that set someone or thing off. A message to someone who cares about her -- though if it were you, why not simply kill you? Or just random chance." Another tap of his fingers against his leg, and a sigh. "I would like to give you answers. Currently I seem to be mainly restricted to plants and chocolate."

“Thank you for coming. I know you’re my boss, and we’re not exactly friends in that sense, but thank you. They are keeping me another night I think. Then I,” Rebecca swallows hard and grimaces, “I have to have someone take care of my apartment and I need to get Kelly back home. My parents refuse to come here.”

Vyv hesitates, then glances upward and sighs, faintly put-upon, before looking to her again. "I hired you because I liked you," he says, adding with a vague gesture, "...well, and because you were otherwise what I would want in a PA, notably competent and et cetera, obviously that's non-negotiable. But if I'm going to voluntarily set myself up to regularly and unavoidably interact with someone, it's going to be someone I like. And I'm certainly not prone to inviting just anyone to come by and watch terrible television." A sidelong look that time, with a very brief and faint little upturn at the corner of his mouth, and then it's gone again, back to the seriousness (and irritation) that the overall situation demands. "In any case. What kind of care does your apartment require? And why won't they come?" A pause, eyes shifting upward again, and he opens his mouth, an in-drawn breath and fractional hesitation before the brief internal fight successfully results in, "Take the time you need."

Rebecca lets out a breath and her expression is grateful for his kindness in saying they’re kinda friends even if neither uses that word. “There is blood all over the apartment, my couch won’t be recoverable and, I...” She shakes her head. “I just don’t know if I can go back in there for a bit. As for my parents,” she frowns, “They advised me not to come here. Something about trouble with our family long ago, but they wouldn’t explain it.”

She speaks pretty decent Vyv by now. Arguably the fact he's here at all says that, but the attempts to actually be reassuring are pretty close to probative. Even if he does react to that last part with slightly raised brows and a definitely interested, "Really? ...well. I suppose that might go on the list of potential reasons." His brow furrows again. "I do hope you're not in danger. If you can discover what the trouble was... do." Don't make him hunt down and break in a new PA, Rebecca! And for some reason the list of friends isn't long enough to comfortably absorb losses either.

"I'll see to the apartment." That, at least, is a more comfortable realm, even if initially walking through it to get what's now in that suitcase might not have been. "If you need to stay elsewhere, I suppose my guest room is a possibility." Yes, that's an offer. "Temporarily, of course." It may be mentally running through the list of things that need doing, quite probably by him, that leads to "...how long do you expect you will need?"

“Thank you,” Rebecca murmurs gratefully. She understands his need for privacy. “Not long, I hope. Just long enough to find my footing again. So I can find what did this and destroy it in the most painful manner possible.” There is a spark in her pale eyes at that. Vengeance is the best way to heal. Yes.

Vyv inclines his head slightly at the thanks, and it turns into a nod when she gives her answer on the time. Probably he'd prefer something a bit more precise -- well, definitely he'd prefer something a bit more precise, she's seen him deal with estimates before -- but the likely desire to press for something more concrete is successfully quashed for now. At the declaration of intended vengeance, he smiles. It's a small thing, and not particularly one of the more pleasant ones. Retribution's a desire he understands. "Good." A small pause. "If you find I might be of some assistance with that, please do feel free to ask."

“Of course. I should rest now though. Whatever they’re sedating me with, is making me very sleepy,” Rebecca admits, with that filterless manner of someone drugged to the gills. “Did you bring me some pajamas? This hospital gown is terrible.”

"I believe that's more or less the point," Vyv says, glancing to the suitcase, then rising to pick it back up. "Of course I did. And of course it is. I'm not sure if they don't understand that form needn't be abandoned for function, or if they just wanted an added incentive for people to recover and get out." He lays the suitcase where he'd been sitting, and pops it open. She does not need that much for one more day, but perhaps he didn't know for certain how long she might be here. Or thought she might like choices. Either way, she has both sleep and leaving options in clothing, and toiletries as probably-needed. A glance from the contents to her, and he gives the bag a twist to aim it somewhat more toward her. "I'll leave you to it." Making an effort, yes, but there are limits. Which is probably to both their preference. He picks up the chocolates, and sets them beside the plant, also precisely placed, then turns to look to her again. "Rest well," he says, and turns for the door.

Rebecca's expression is as grateful as it is sleepy, and she'll manage to change into something that doesn't tie in the back before she nods off.