2019-07-27 - Matters of Excess

All day, rare and expensive saffron crocuses and bundles of lilies of the valley have been arriving with delivery to Lilith's room almost every two hours. It started early in the morning and Lilith was still asleep when the first came. Naturally, she might find it something nice to wake up to, so Michael does the normal thing and sets it out after whatever judgement passed on what's been sent. But then it keeps happening and she doesn't look so happy about it the more and more it happens.

She lets it happen, though. If Michael looks inclined to stop it because she looks unhappy, she catches it ahead of time with a permissive hand out in subtle gesture. Mostly she watches the laptop with him and is real quiet til he goes in for half-shift. She'd had a bit of a fitful off and on night, couldn't stay asleep, couldn't stay awake.

Ruiz is due that afternoon. He comes in, does the questioning, the flower deliveries persist after that is through. So later in the evening, when Michael finishes his half-shift and comes back in, things have multiplied considerably. It's past delivery hours now, though, at least. Unless someone paid to get around that.

It smells like a really fancy whorehouse tinged with exotic country and Lilith is holding a washcloth over the bottom half of her mouth and face to try and mute the scent.

Walking in, Mike has changed back to civvie clothes again. He'd left his laptop with her so that she could watch shows and not be stuck with hospital cable. He's wearing deep blue long sleeve shirt and khakis, similar to the outfit she'd first hung out with him in. But not quite the same, it's just his favorite combination for outfits. It also happens to flatter him in all the right ways and does well playing off his eyes, not that that was necessarily his objective.

Coming in, he moves quietly, glances at her to see if she's awake and then around at the flowers, and says not a damn thing for several long moments. Just sort of looks around and then at her, and finally says, "Mmhmm," and walks into the bathroom.

When he comes out a few seconds later, he is drying off his hands.

Lilith leaves the washcloth over the lower half of her face and watches Michael instead of the laptop on the bed with her. After squinting a little at the door, she leans her head back to look at the ceiling and counts her breaths until he comes back out.

When she first woke up, she thought they were from Byron. There was no tag. No note. She even smiled a little. But they kept coming then, didn't they? Excessive and gaudy, clearly imported, so thickly scented, culinary and decorative rarities. Lilith googled them on the laptop and the price tag made her sick before the smell started doing it too.

When Michael is out of the bathroom drying his hands, she rolls her head to look at him and pulls the washcloth down from her face to give a hoarse, but better sounding, "Hey." It's soft, "Wanna do me a favor?"

"If I don't have to stand in here, yes," he answers and puts his hands in his pockets, not looking the least bit pleased with this scenario. He is his usual pleasant self, but standing in a room with a girl he likes surrounded by expensive flowers that for some reason she is keeping around? A bit off-putting. He'll need to re-evaluate things, he'd clearly misread a few pages in her book.

Staring around, he moves over to the window, checks it. Finds out that it's not able to be opened--of course, and ends up covering his face with a hand. Blinking at the intensity of the smell, even with the hand there to block some of it.

"Five of the crocuses, please have them shipped across town to August uh-- I don't know his last name. He owns the Branch and Bole. He'll appreciate rarities. I have a note I wrote to send with them." Lilith gestures to a folded piece of paper on the moveable tray. She apparently has been planning, she commandeered a notepad and pen from a nurse. There's an address notated on the page that's currently on the notepad, "I got the shop address if you've never been over there."

Then she carries on, directing with points at all the less gaudy (but still stupidly out of season and imported and expensive) lily of the valley bundles with a pick up of pen like a laser pointer to gesture, "Those bundles-- anyone who's in this hospital without visitors or terminal should have flowers. Can you arrange that with a tray runner or something? The nurses are too busy to bother with this stuff."

Then she continues, gesturing to the rest of the crocuses, "The rest of the crocuses should go to maternity to congratulate new mothers." Quickly, she drops the pen to replace washcloth over face and looks at Michael with her eyes saying the please part.

Shipped, in the middle of the evening. In Gray Harbor. Town of 18,000. No, he couldn't do that, he wasn't even sure who he'd call in the middle of the night in Boston. A taxi driver? But he can do some of what she'd said, like getting the flowers to other patients. He walks from the room wordlessly to find some idle sorts, and comes back and has them start taking things. He seems to remember everything she'd said, as he gets the candy-stripers on task quickly. Wheeling the majority of the greenhouse out on carts.

The five crocuses she'd asked him to 'have shipped' he has left in the room for the moment, and is outside with the orderlies for what seems like a while. The soft rumble of his voice audible in her room as he talks, to a few people, then appears to be making a phone call.

Eventually, he comes back and wheels that five out, picking up the note as he walks out. This time, he's gone for about ten.

But, as usual, he comes back, this time carrying a fan, which he promptly sets up pointing at her bathroom and then turns on the fan inside her bathroom to start drawing some of the pollen and flower-must from the room.

Lilith doesn't have a wash cloth anymore. She's breathing more naturally and seated up straight and honestly looks pretty normal other than the telltale injury and bandage reminders. The woman still looks a little... empty of the vitality and quick wit she typically has, and her eyes are kind of shadowed with residual haunt, but... she's not looking ill over flowers and unhappy anymore.

In fact, she looks somewhere between quietly amused and just goddamn impressed when Michael goes dragging in a fan after getting all that done. She can see calling someone in to do some delivery bitchwork on the side, it's not impossible, just a hassle and thought process, but getting a fan from maintenance or whoever is pretty tops efficiency.

"... where the hell did you get a fan?" Her voice is still somewhat hoarse, but much better compared to the first night.

"The chapel," Mike answers as he grabs one of the trays they'd brought her for lunch and actually starts to Cleopatra and some palmfronds style fan, starts to push the air from the room, working the tray up and down as he pushes the air out of the room. "I figured they'd have one, or the utility room, something for drying floors if nothing else," he explains patiently as he fans the room, walking in a rough semi-circle, ending nearest to her, where he basically 'pushes' air directly across her. Swinging the tray up and down.

He looks a bit absurd, but he keeps it up until the scent in the room really starts to depart fully, and goes over to look at the window again, pulling out a K-bar from his hip, he eyeballs the seal on the window.

"..eh, no," he decides after a second and puts the knife away.

Lilith presses her lips hard together while watching Michael wave and walk the fan around to manipulate her airspace for the better, and for a moment, it looks as if she's smothering a real smile of amusement. Her head nods a little to the explanation, eyes tailing him to the window where he takes a moment to consider.

Then she huffs out a bare, helpless laugh when the K-bar pops off his hip, and hell, maybe she thinks it's for show and he's not actually going to do that, right? That's a heathen thing she would normally do, or just break a hole in the window, but she's refrained, and he's a cop. After a moment, she scoots on the bed to make room for Mike to sit, "Thank you. C'mere." Her good hand reaches with pat on the ruffled bedding space she's made, "I've been questioned. Unless they put a surprise psych hold on me, I think they may release me tomorrow morning or afternoon."

Walking into the hallway, Mike grabs a plastic bag and brings it in. Of course, he brought food. It's supper time. But at least the food this time can be eaten at leisure, so while the white-wrapped sandwiches are there, he is content to ignore them and focus on her, his eyes turning to her as he sets them aside with some drinks and goes to take a seat next to her on the bed. Kicking off his shoes as he usually does. He also sets his knife, sidearm and pocket-stuff on the table as well, all rather normal with him.

His thick muscular body takes up far more space than hers, but luckily they can squeeze a bit together and fit comfortably. He holds up one arm in the process of getting comfortable, offering her a nook to rest beneath.

"Makes sense," he confirms when she talks about her probable release. He can see that. He doesn't press the case of asking about the interrogation, and it's easy to see that, as before, he's just doing his best to be comforting and quiet. Non-judgmental.

"I could have killed them all, you know. I might have, another day, another time. But today I wanted to make something good out of bad." Lilith says next to Michael, shifting under his arm after he gets settled so she can nudge into the made space. She scoots up and angles herself so that her face is looking at him while talking, instead of at the wall or anywhere else, despite the subdued nature of her. Progress.

After she speaks, she looks at where the flowers were piled prior, then at the fan blowing, then back up at Michael with a tiny pull of air through her nose, "You're also free to stop treating me like glass now. Though I may have needed just that for a while. I know it's not exciting or easy to do, considering."

"Saint Lilith. I'm sure they'll come in here and canonize you soon," Mike mentions when she mentions how she'd made good out of bad, flipping her shit, since she'd invited him to do so. Peering down at her, he smiles at her and nods his head a little, "I'll treat you like normal, but certain topics? I won't bring up. Those are your topics of discussion to bring up when you are ready," he tells her as he reaches up with a hand to flick a few strands of hair from her forehead. "Okay?"

Sliding his hand along her cheek, he trails it over her shoulder and down her arm, cupping her hip.

"So, have they been feeding you anything good, how's your throat?" he asks and gently lifts that hand again to tilt her head slightly to the side, so he can better eye the bruising.

"Mhm, tell them to make me a crown of thorns." Lilith almost dry quips to Michael, though it's still a little soft and too whispery raw to quite pull it off all the way. As the guy pulls the smile, though, and puts down the terms, she nudges her head a little into the flick over strands of hair to help him knock them back, then nods one small, solid time in agreement, "Okay."

When his hand moves to her cheek, though, she breathes out soft air and tilts her face back downwards and into the gesture a little before it goes, voice weighted with gratitude, "Thank you. This has been difficult for you too. I understand that I... am difficult. And you have every right and motivation to run like mad. And I'd understand. Because you go... to such lengths... and I..."

Lilith stops. She stops dead sentence and makes a noise in her throat before tipping her head to let Mike examine her bruising. It's more yellow and purple than black and blue now and most of the scuffs are gone, but it's still a garishly violent telltale kind of mark. Quietly she breathes after going tense, then suddenly she's more relaxed instead, "Yeah. You seeing stuff like this isn't okay."

Her agreement earns her a platinum quality smile that all at once seeks to keep her in a good state of mind, and to continue to soothe. His eyes tracing her movements with a touch of delicacy still, but while he is undoubtedly going to treat her a bit like she's made of glass at times, it's more because he dotes than because he's treating her differently, and it somehow resonates with the way he considers her. Flipping that switch off.

Listening to her begin to try to apologize, he strokes her cheek again and tilts her chin up. "I don't run," he tells her. Just those three words.

Staring at her neck for those few moments, he looks at her and asks, "You'd rather I not look?" curiously. And turning slightly in his seat, pulls over the hospital bed tray with the sandwiches still wrapped on it. Unwrapping one with one hand, though that takes some effort, he seems to be focused on it. "I should have brought you soup.."

"No. I want you to look. Because I want you to know this is what I am. I'm all marked up. And sometimes the marks go away. Sometimes they don't." Lilith explains after a beat of consideration, keeping her head tilted some even after Mike stops and reaches. Gradually, she pulls it back down to natural rest in the nook of his arm, "I fuck up. It's what I do. I get it from Hank, I think, in part." She pauses, then softly corrects, like it's necessary for her to say, "Got it from Hank." Past tense.

Her brows knit down and she gestures for a bite from the sandwich to try and swallow real food after clarifying, "I fuck up. It's not going to change. I don't really mean to. But I do." She pauses again, "I caused everything, you know. I did all that. You walked into the gory end of everything I caused. Byron, Magnolia, Alexander? I did that to all of them. Hank was there because of me. Hank jumped because of me. Byron is absolutely gutted over what he's done. I started it all. If Alexander didn't have the sedative, I might have killed them, you know."

"Everyone fucks up, it's about adapting and getting past it, and not thinking you're special because you fuck up, Lilith. Welcome to Earth, population everyone who fucks up," Mike says, doing a very mild Will Smith impression, though he doubts its even noticeable given how random it is. "Yes, your dad was apparently a bad fuck up, but I'm guessing he didn't have the good friends that you do, that he didn't have the wisdom of having experienced growing up with /him./ You have advantages that he doesn't have, and it begins with you recognizing that you can and will do better, and not copping out."

Listening to her second explanation, he sort of gives her a bland look, like he knows there's more to it than that. If she'd done those things, no matter how tight her friends might be, this would not have been resolved the way it was being resolved. He can put that math together.

Helping her eat, he holds the sandwich for her, and then sets it down and grabs a napkin in case she needs to spit it up or can't swallow it properly. Drinking a little, he stares down at her. "Still a bit raw?" he asks.

Lilith gets it down, she doesn't take any bigger bite than she can manage and she chews an overlong time and chases it readily with a drink. It's fine. That said, she doesn't seem to want anymore, but she gave it a test run anyway in answer to his inquiry, and consensus seems to be-- doable, but also fuck that. She helps that along with a tiny nod at Michael's direct question, then lapses into quiet while considering his words. She lets him eat the sandwich instead and reaches to nurse the drink instead, because she actually seems to want that.

"Michael. When I'm out of here, I'll tell you everything. But... right now I'm going to follow today's trend. I'm going to tell you the good part." Lilith shifts up into a sit straighter and turns more into Michael to look up at him, "I think I'm free. I think I'm kind of broken too. But I'm free. It's just me inside. Nothing else."

Holding the bottle of water if she needs it, given her lack of two hands, or the fact that she's pretending not to be able to use the bandaged hand anyway, Michael helps her drink if necessary or just helps her grab the bottle if not, and eats quietly listening to her as she begins to explain that she's free and he sort of blinks slowly, then nods his head. She'd explain later. He'd ask questions when she let him. Later.

"Do you want something better to drink?" he asks. "I can run to the pop machine down the hall, get you some candy to suck on," he offers. Apparently willing to give her oodles of sugar and caffeine.

Lilith sees and knows how that sounds to Michael. But she doesn't seem to mind, either, because saying it does something for her too. Her eyes go a little distant before she smiles some at the question. And this smile isn't empty or smothered or half-ass. It's small. But it's real. She eases back out of straight sit into the nook of his arm again to rest there, lapsing back into quiet after her brief response, "Yes. Coke and Skittles for when I'm feeling brave. But not right now. Eat your dinner, mm? No need to get up again for a while."

Lilith might not want him to move, in all actuality, because she just got re-settled and she doesn't look like she wants to move again now either. But eventually she reaches for the remote and turns on the television to the news for noise. She doesn't bother with the laptop for something to actually watch 'cause she's mostly thinking and watching Michael, unabashed and quiet now.

"Coke and Skittles," he confirms softly and seems inclined to go, but nods his head at her request, studying her face a touch longer. Picking up his sandwich with one hand, he continues to eat, glancing up at the television when she starts it up, he watches KING up in Seattle. Normal news cycle. Nothing really catching his interest, he glances back at her and finds her looking at him, mid-bite and he stops eating for maybe three breaths before he realizes she was just paying attention to him. So he starts eating again. Lost in thought.

Holding her there, as he eats the sandwich, he seems to be enjoying his choice. But does have to admit after a bit, "I'm going to have to work my ass off after all these meals I've been eating with you lately."

"You could stop trying to feed me like a Russian babushka. Or hell, just let me starve, I'll be alright. I know how to fend and fill the tank eventually." Lilith tells Michael with a pipe up from her silence, not at all being a little weird or anything while she continues to keep her cheek at one side of his chest with face angled up some to watch him. Eventually, she relents being a little overbearing with it all, fair features lapsing into something more natural in place of that calm, pensive mien she had prior while watching him.

The woman's body moves with shift before she starts watching the news too, but eventually, all that comfort and all that fitful sleep trouble she had the night before catches up with her now that she's so still. Her cheek is a little pressure squashed and she's a little doped, admittedly, still. She drools a tiny bit on Mike's shirt. But that's how heavily she's suddenly out. And she probably needs that.

Broken. Free.