2019-07-28 - Tears for Absolution

It's almost time to get out. Lilith had such an intense dream when she fell back asleep very early in the morning after waking up from night's sleep. It's left her a little rattled and she's close to fidgety about getting out of bed. There's no more flowers in the room. It might be depressing, really, considering her father literally just hung himself in a newsworthy fashion and she was admitted, but then... she figures people that actually care are detained or generally don't know what to do with the situation. And she's had her fill of flowers anyway, there's other things to be plenty butthurt about. But her room does look a little barren because of it, considering the context.

Michael has either stepped out to take a call or do other things. If he was around to catch the visitor coming to her door, he no doubt sensed that a certain person coming to Lilith's door may just need the kinds of moments he doesn't need to be around for. He's been around pretty perpetually, which probably accounts for what the hell she's doing when the door knocks or opens. This might be around the time she's sent him on the prowl to find a particular nurse or doctor that helped her before. The fading noose marks on her neck have been left because they were so obvious, but she wants them taken care of before discharge. It's embarrassing to bring into the general public.

She's seated on the edge of the bed with bare legs dangling in a huge oversized Hogwarts hoodie that goes to her thighs, clearly not hers, hair wet from shower and partially tangled, bandage still on her hand for appearances sake, which is making the other thing she's trying to do quite trying. There's a pair of casual sleep sweatpants or something nearby, also men's, and she's got them yanked over on her bare lap pulling the drawstring and tying to adjust in advance.

Lilith would like to walk out of the hospital and not trip over them falling down, swimming in clothing goes past the point of cute straight into hazard at some point. She has nothing to wear of her own here and other people don't have a way in to go get her clothes (in theory) because she's not telling anyone where her phone and keys are. She wants to get those herself, she has no idea what's on her phone after all this time and she needs to see it first.

Byron's been business-busy for much of the previous evening, when Ruiz had paid him a visit, bleeding into most of today. Vivian had helped him get his things packed after a brief visit by Isabella, and he's all prepared to be discharged. His bloody and torn suit ensemble have been packed away, leaving him wearing a far more casual hunter greet long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans with his feet tucked into combat boots.

He looks as rested as someone who's been on call after call for the past day would look. His hair, while not gelled, is pushed back and he seems to have gotten his beard trimmed, something which he had neglected to do ever since the ring had taken ahold of him. There's a bandage still wrapped around his wrist, like with the others, this is mostly for show. It's awkward that way and he has a mind to just trip it off.

Noticing how empty the room now looked, Byron's disappointed that he wasn't able to witness the manic flower deliveries that had once filled this room with various blooms and colors. He had only heard about it from an outside source, so he will just have to take their word on it. "Harry Potter, huh?" It may be oversized, but girls sometimes like to wear oversized things. "Wasn't sure if you'd still be into that," It was part of their childhood after all, "But you've always embraced the culture," What does that mean? Nerd culture? Fantasy culture? D&D? "More than I ever did." While he might say, as a child, that he never judged others for who they were, he did ties with Kevin when the escapism was no longer needed.

Closing the distance between them, he moves to stand beside her bed, "I... heard that a gentleman caller has been bringing you flowers non-stop for, oh, the past day or so?" Another glance is given the room, "I was curious as to whether it was someone you knew?" He already has his suspicions.

"Look. Just because I started making Tolkien commentary about the 'thing' doesn't mean I own Hogwarts sweatshirts, okay. I wouldn't say where my stuff was because I wanted at my phone first, so I needed... to borrow." Lilith sniffs a little audibly at Byron's commentary as he comes in and she drops her eyes immediately to herself as an excuse not to immediately start looking at or studying him. After drawing in a big breath, though, she stops fiddling with the tugged loop knot she's trying to make happen mostly one handed and... hey, she's decent at doing that, wonder why. But it's still annoying for her to sit and have to do. She gives up on it and decides to finally look up instead.

When her unwrapped hand lifts from the pants, it starts to try and work some of the wet tangles from her hair automatically, seeing Byron so put together. She adjusts the hoodie a little on the way to try and possible swaddle some of her throat and the markings out of view, but the clothing gradually shifts back to hang and it's pretty wasted effort. Lilith studies Byron for a long moment with a semi-shadowed haunt to her eyes as residual from the dreams and the general past few days while fussing with that hair. Eventually, his direct question without beating around the bush much brings her back to natural focus and then shift of gaze to the room where the heaps of flowers were prior.

"Yes. I didn't kill them. I wanted to. I couldn't breathe right. But... I didn't have the heart to rot anything else, yesterday." The woman pauses here, voice still tinged with hoarseness, but steady enough now while she eyes the spot across the room with her jaw twitching subtle with here and there telltale ticks of back teeth grit or grind, "I sent them to people without flowers or visitors or new mothers in the hospital, and a few rare ones to August to appreciate."

Sighing softly to herself, she draws eyes back up to Byron and drops her hand from her semi-worked through, drying hair, letting it go limp to rest on her leg. She doesn't have to confirm much else after that explanation. She held back from killing the flowers on purpose. It's obvious. It was probably obvious before too, had he seen the sheer choke of excess and smelled the overwhelm of exotic, bought fragrance.

"So you're leaving today." She pauses, "Been questioned too, I guess?"

Just watching Lilith get all defensive about which fantasy stories she likes and which she couldn't give a lick about is something that brings an amused smile to Byron's lips. "Nothing wrong about it, you know. It looks cute on you." Uh oh, kids are cute. Is he reverting back to that again? Then again, he's probably teasing. Even before she has a chance to yank on the cord of her hoodie to try and hide the marks around her neck, Byron sees them. And no, he's not about to bring them up.

In fact, just seeing the bruising there brings back dark and terrible memories of the bridge. The only hint of this may be the way his eyes linger there, even after she's tried to hide them, for a moment before he blinks to meet with her gaze again.

He was interested in her hand now, moving to settle onto the bed beside her and immediately reaching to take it up within his grasp. "How are you feeling?" His own wrist is still bandaged, despite his broken bone having been nicely repaired.

Ah yes, the flowers. They both know who /must/ have sent them. In fact Byron is kicking himself for not sending any over, but he was drugged out of his mind for a time. Perhaps it's a good thing that he didn't now. Not only would it be lost in the jungle that was once in this room, but the very sight of flowers may start to turn her off. "You did the right thing. Brought a little bit of generosity and kindness to strangers... well and that guy at the plant shop." He doesn't have to say it, but she must know that he's planning on looking back into Grant and his whereabouts again.

"Yes, the good Captain paid me a visit as well. I answered him to the best of my knowledge. That's all that I could do."

Lilith twists her lips a little to one side and glances down at herself for a beat after Byron's eyes catch her throat, but she's probably not too worried about being seen as kiddo cute for the time being. Not after the bridge. How could anyone see anything other than that fury and madness and power and pain lashing out of her? Unfathomable, for her, regardless of what perception on the parts of others actually is.

What did you do, Lilith? Look at his wrist.

While Lilith has her eyes angled downward, her own eyes catch and linger on Byron's bandaging at the wrist. She's very quiet for a good few heartbeats, but after some measured breath, she swaps her eyes to his hand with hers instead. "I don't know how I feel. I've been hitting the call button and asking for drugs, trying not to feel, but... I'm trying also to focus on one thing in the middle of all this that I do feel, I think, for sure..." Her brows knit down a tick before she finally draws eyes back up to look at Byron.

The question is soft, vague, and pointed altogether, "Do you feel free?"

Byron doesn't isn't even thinking about is own wrist. If there was pain or discomfort there, it would be the memory of an awful injury. What he is interested in is Lilith's hand. That scream of anguish and rage right before he lost consciousness. He's careful with handling her, rubbing a thumb gently along the length of what he perceives as her injured digit. He had no fault in the matter. Not for that injury. That was something else entirely, but it was difficult seeing her in so much pain and torment.

"We probably should regroup," Back at the Club House, "Now that we aren't affected by the ring." He also knows that they had some of the best times together, as a group. Even if they are now all grown up with their own lives. to live. "Maybe Tobin will bake us all some cookies, though I have a feeling that I'll just stop by the bakery and picked up some fancy baked goods." He goes on with this light-hearted banter, for now, wearing this warm smile.

There was no need for drugs, unless she was feeling true pain. But this time, she wasn't locking him out the way she did back then. At a point where drugs helped bring her comfort too.

"Free? I don't feel like I'm under the spell of a ring anymore. I know that much." While the gentle caress stops, he continues to hold her hand, his gaze now lifted to stare off into the blank distance, "But everything that we've experienced there? It's something that we'll earn to live with. It will always be a part of us."

Lilith is ungodly quiet after Byron is finished speaking in full, and it's the thick kind of quiet where she clearly has words she either can't manage or just doesn't want to wrangle with. It all moves like a tumult inside her, a quiet energy of its own to radiate when she's like that. Usually, silences between the two of them are just fine unless they're in the middle of a trying conversation. Or even sometimes then, because there's times where she takes thought to measure what actually comes out instead of, maybe, what she feels like saying. But this silence here, it's heavy and wrought as she studies Byron's face a little longer, then looks down to watch his finger drag along the length of her finger.

"I asked for a picture of it. To keep. They thought I was high, but they did it just in case I really wanted it. I suppose it was impressively terrible enough to warrant. It's morbid. But I..." The woman's voice is still quiet when she finally picks up with speech, "Needed the reminder if I wasn't going to bear the scars in a way I could see them." The tip of her tongue makes tick back and forth at the point of a canine before she looks down and nods with small delay at the other bits he's spoken of. She takes another pause, "I don't know if Tobin and Geoff know that... I haven't seen or heard from them..."

Then realization hits her all at once with that trail off wondering of what the others do or don't know.

"... I have to bury Hank."

It is morbid and while part of Byron is surprised that she'd ask for something of that nature, there's another part that almost expected it. She liked to beat herself up often. She admits to this too, this picture would be a reminder for her. Just this idea that she wants to be reminded of this painful part of her life is something that Byron just cannot understand. He'd gotten rid of most everything painful in his life, including the Thorne house.

"Lilith..." He starts. He knows just what he wants to say to her, but he doesn't want her to think that he's being over-protective in any way, giving her some freedom. "I'm not sure that they'd appreciate being shown a picture of your mangled hand, but I think they deserve to see it." He's trying to keep some of their conversation light, at least, as the heavy part was yet to come.

"You know that I'll be there with you, standing beside you through all of this. I'll do what I can to help. If you'd like, I'll make the arrangements." There he goes, trying to take over, something which he was trying not to do earlier.

"No, I don't want to show anyone, I just wanted it." Lilith clarifies for Byron a little quickly, head shaking a bit before she looks off to the side and turns her profile to the man, eyes off across the room. She's an easy read when she's being open because of the sheer expressiveness and way of things that come out, but when she's being quiet and keeping things very carefully in check, it's harder to see things like turmoil or grief or upset on her. Instead, she's very calm and still and maybe even a little faraway in some sense before her lashes blink once to focus on the wall more solidly with thought.

"Byron. I need to do it. I did... everything for that man. I don't know why. I just did. I'm responsible for him being there. I can't hide from that. I have to try and bury some of it, where I can. However I can." Lilith is so calm, so quiet, so still when she says those words, looking at the wall. Then she continues calmly for Byron, explaining, "But I know that I can call you for whatever I need, too, if it becomes too much." She pauses and ruminates aloud in a list, "Something small and graveside. I'll have to clean out the trailer and sell it too. I should have a Pourhouse memorial for his drunk friends." She pauses again, "Some people liked him, you know. He was funny sometimes."

Then Lilith makes a mistake. All that calculated and careful poise and calm. The subtle lift of her chin in profile while she's talking and looked away from Byron at the wall, it's there, oozing a lot of Lilith dug into doing things herself despite the gentleness of the explanation and lack of thrown up walls. Her eyes move, though. They look right at Byron and suddenly she's stricken there in the blue irises of her eyes.

"When I first got back, I threatened to let him swing. Swing. I told him I didn't know why I didn't just let Felix..." Lilith has to stop and gasp with sudden hyperventilation, "He just smiled. I thought he was drunk. I dreamed that moment. He wasn't." Another small gasp and suddenly she's looking like she's about to rise up and launch somewhere, anywhere, the body tensing for it even thought it's stuck in place while she stares at Byron, "He was there because of me. Because of what I did. Because he was my blood. You were there because of me. Because of what I did. You... I could have... you could be dead too and I--"

The woman chokes. She's so stubborn she's suddenly choking and fighting what's so overdue, so inevitable, staring at Byron. Then she starts to downright shudder sob while reaching for him, "Don't hate me. Please don't hate me. Please don't be afraid of me. I won't do it again. I won't do it again."

Lilith was good at burying things, all told. But she was never good at letting things out the right way. How many years old are these tears? They sound like all the tears she refused to cry over a lifetime, it's so wrenching.

Lilith was never a crier. But she is right now.

Unlike when Lilith got upset when Byron showed up to the hospital with the flowers, Dog and the balloon, he doesn't take her correction poorly. Then again, these were different occasions and as he may have tried to make light of a situation (Lilith's injured hand), he, in no way, fully expected her to embrace the humor that he tried to add. Unlike with the 'childish' gifts. He made a poor judgment call, one that he was ready to own up to. And yet, she didn't want to show anyone, but he still wanted to see it...

However, before he gets the chance to say just how stupid he was for trying to make light of a serious subject, she insists that she be the one to handle Hank's affairs. She wouldn't be Lilith if she didn't believe that she could manage things on her own. He won't fight her on this for this is something that he can understand more than her having a picture of her gruesome injury to remind her of the bad. "I get it, Lil. And if there's anything that you need-- help financially, someone who will listen, you name it. I'll do what I can."

It's hard for Byron to respect a man like Hank. Hank was a drunk like his father. Hank let Lilith go hungry just so he could spend his money on booze. Those were things that Byron despised, having grown up so closely with Lilith to be a young observer to all of this. And yet, she cares for him so much. Why? If anything, that was another thing that he couldn't understand.

Then it all comes pouring out. And while he may not understand her defense of her father, for he would never defend his own... or his mother, for that matter, this blame that it was her fault that Hank died gets a single nod at first. After everything, he did to her? Did Hank deserve this from Lilith now? If you asked Byron, he wouldn't think so. That does lead up to the part he, himself, played at the stone bridge. And the slight ire that he was feeling due to her suddenly becoming emotional over her good-for-nothing father, only now reminds him of just what /he/ had done.

He released the hand that he held, carefully lowering it, before he, too, reaches for her shoulders to pull her into an embrace, "Don't say that. Don't let that bother you. If you only knew what I was willing to do to get my hand on that ring, then you'd realize just how much I deserved it." Was he talking about the wrist snap or something worse? "If you hadn't done what you did." And if Alexander didn't subdue him, "I would've tried again. I would've tried to shoot you. But believe me, I didn't want to do it. Even as I pulled the trigger."

Lilith may be sobbing and choking and breaking down there against Byron, but something in his words kind of ticks her into fighting that. One moment, she's a melted heap in Byron's embrace, then suddenly, she's pulling back slowly and rigidly, putting her hand up to knock hard and angry swipes against her face, angry at herself for letting her do that, angry at the nightmare she had for so many years. Her jaw is trembling still, but by sheer will, she stops that crying and works on the heaving to regulate her breath while trying to clean her face up and buck right the hell up afterwards.

It seems like she's crying over Hank at first, it does. Is she guilty? Yes. But...

Really, it's the moment when she looks at Byron's familiar dark eyes that serves as a sudden catalyst. It's there she starts to make her gasp in the confessional. It's there she starts to choke. It's there she remembers the way he felt from the inside, the way she got into him, the way she twisted, exploited, expounded on his human fragility like he was nothing at all. She feels sick. She wants to scream. It's the Nightmare winning all over again.

Lilith tries to feel him so solid and warm around her to remind herself it isn't so. But he feels... so fragile now. She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be...

"I could have killed you. I'd rather be dead. I've watched you die a thousand times in my dreams. I know which I'd prefer." Lilith says to Byron with her head drifting shake, rogue hair sticking to her face now residually wet and flushed with tears as she tries to clean herself up with force control. Sniffling in air sharply through her nose, she force closes the topic, or at least tries to with firmness in her tone , "There's no use going over which of us deserves to watch the other die more. It didn't happen. We'll get out of here, it's done. We go back to our lives. You do your clean up, I do mine. It'll be fine."

His firm hands holding onto her shoulders, one of those hands release just as Byron reaches out in an attempt to lift Lilith's chin so that he can look her in the eyes. It's the exact moment that she begins to strike herself with angry hands that has him actively reaching to grab ahold of those fists to prevent her from doing further harm, "Lilith." His voice is loud and stern, "St-- Stop. Stop it." His words are cut off each time that a hand escapes his clutches, forcing him to make another grab for it, before he just wraps his arms around her to keep them forcibly still, holding her tightly against him.

He's not sure what's going on through that pretty little head of hers. The urge to tap into her mind is strong, but he can already see and feel the turmoil and darkness that fills her. Then it comes out, this idea that she could've killed him. In his own head, he was plagued by the guilt of everything he'd done to /her/. What he was willing to do. That doesn't make his arms loosen around her, it does the opposite.

Yes, he remembers their time on the bridge and at that time, he hadn't realized what broke his wrist. He just pulled the trigger almost at that exact same moment. But then there was the carnage around him, most of which he hadn't witnessed personally. "Neither of us... deserve to watch the other die. All of that, it was out of our hands and even still, we did what we could to try and stop ourselves from going too far." Or he tried, but failed, or else he wouldn't have fired off that shot.

Perhaps, like with how she cares about Hank, he doesn't fully understand what Lilith is capable of. He was sedated before witnessing the rest of her carnage and far too drugged to get a good grasp on what had happened to the others. He doesn't even remember shocking Alexander or that Alexander was there.

Resting his chin down atop her head before turning to the side so his cheek pressed against her, he sighs, "You'll see what the ring drove me to do. How much I was pushed to the extreme." Lying to all of his friends, his tenants, everyone. Then there's the noticeable damage. "I came to take the ring from you at the shop."

He still feels fragile. He still feels so goddamn fragile to Lilith and she can't do anything about it. It doesn't matter how firm Byron is, the way he holds her, keeps her angry, tear-swiping, punishing little knocks of hand at herself for composure away. She feels it, but she doesn't feel it the same and she wants to feel it the same. How can she feel rooted again, where was her rock? Her rock is glass. She can't shake the way it feels. She needs him to feel like a man again, not the kind that breaks, she needs to feel like a woman again, not a monster.

She tries. Lilith tries so hard to lapse with melt back into Byron and she listens to him, she does, face burying into his shirt to listen to his heartbeat, hoping and praying it will be enough. Thump. Thump. Thump. Snap. Thump. Thump. Thump. Snap. She knows rationally he's right. The woman knows why he's not letting her go and she can feel the tension in his arms. Because if he lets her go right now, does she come back? Or does she wall herself away again, little by little? She tries not to do that. She tries to go the opposite way. Her arms wrap fast around him and she holds and she cradles and she fastens and even rocks the barest bit while clinging.

Be solid again.

Byron is talking about the shop. The shop. The shop. The camera. The anger. The masked man. She never watched the rest of the feed. She wasn't thinking clearly, but somehow she knew, the paranoia and hunted feeling told her it was...

Feel alive with him. Make him solid. Throw it all away. Break it all down. Two steps forward. Three steps back.

Lilith starts to shift after letting herself fall and clutch to Byron's hold for long bids of trying to feel him the right way again. It was her worst fear and she lived it. She feels like she broke them again, like she knows what her instincts are going to be once there's distance between them again. She tries to save it by ruining everything they've somewhat tumultuously cobbled together and made since she's been back. She just wants him to feel like a man for her again. Not glass. Not glass.

It may be a little blindsiding, but it's not a full on attack. He could stop it. He knows what she's doing, she gives him just enough room and time to spurn the moment because of one tiny heartbeat of fear. When Lilith's face tips up, though, her lips immediately go with a fury for Byron's, despite the moment of hesitation on approach.

Byron doesn't think of himself as fragile, believing that he had a good shot at killing her. If his true self didn't struggle to reach the surface and into the light of day. He was manipulative throughout the course of this hunt and if his emotions weren't in turmoil, he could have done more. Damage on a greater mental and emotional level than physical. Using her feelings for him against her, but isn't that what happened anyway? In the end, she was suffering now because of that very thing.

The ring had driven them mad, made them do things that they would never have done in a million years. But if the circumstances were right, would there ever be a repeat of what had happened. And if so, how would that saga end?

For now, all that Byron can do is be here as her brick with his arms wrapped around her, enveloping her into him. As far as he could tell, she as no longer struggling against him. No longer trying to hurt herself. Things may not be peaceful now, but he was content to hold her like this for as long as it takes, until...

Until...

He's lost his train of thought when her mouth presses up against his, catching him by surprise. She can feel his arms flex at the moment of realization of what was going on. In fact, he drinks in her fury, matching her intensity with a drive of his own. Things had become awkward between them as so much time had passed and the bitter feelings that he'd felt for her in the wake of her leaving him. It was as if they were playing catchup for all those missed years in this one moment. He wanted more, he wanted to go on. Then she feels this strain in his arms as he holds her at bay, slowly drifting from her just so he could look her in the eyes. "Lilith..." She can see the regret within his eyes, this desire to recapture everything that he believed he'd lost.

He had Vivian. Someone whom he shared his most recent years with. Even after separation, they still found their way back. And now she was here in Gray Harbor.

It's not an abrupt parting between them, physically. He's gentle about it. "You know that I'd do anything for you."

What was she thinking? Lilith wasn't thinking. She thought she was, but she wasn't. That was the damn problem. She was feeling. There's a reason she kept hitting that call button for more drugs, there's a reason she kept sleeping, feeling makes Lilith do stupid things. It's almost too much at first because of the way he responds, which she didn't expect, really. She had it so ingrained he wouldn't want it, maybe that's exactly why she did it. She's so good at ruining things when she hurts, just to feel more pain.

The problem is, she didn't know how much it'd hurt. When she feels Byron finally resist, separating the warmth, the taste, the memories with gentle pullback and push of separating before she can even begin to relish in the differences with him as a man, not a boy this time... it's a gut shot that brings her back around to stark and cold reality. But she buries it.

Lilith had that coming. It was years in the making, his moment to give and take away. She did it, didn't she? It's fair. It's due. She should explain herself. The words don't come, though. They don't come at all. Instead, she smiles some, a bittersweet and terribly self-deprecating thing right against Byron's lips when she feels him pushing and moving her and she slow motion allows it. She even meets his eyes for a moment, and in that space of time, her own are terribly resigned.

It doesn't matter if he feels like glass anymore or not. She just changed everything. Lilith has always been very good at setting fires to ruin good things.

The woman is quite calm about what follows, though, and she slowly and gingerly extricates herself from Byron entirely while turning her eyes and face away with a small intake of breath, making almost graceful apology, "Yes. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." She pauses, knocking a hand up to sweep some of her hair away from her face with hooking swipe behind an ear, features an almost picturesque version of placid, though her eyes don't go near him again. "Anything you've done since that box came in the door... don't apologize for it anymore. I've already forgiven you."

It felt like Byron was young again, the way that she can make him feel. He was desperate for that attention long after she cut him out of her life. As it was recently revealed, even up until their Junior year of high school, when he had hoped that the mysterious black heart had come from her. Only to find out years later that it really did. It was hard to pull away, she was addicting. She always was in his heart. And he knew that she would be a difficult habit to break.

He licks at his lips, tasting that essence of hers lingering from such a heated kiss. All the while he can't take his eyes off of her. She had told him of her feelings before and felt the fool because of it, after having heard that Byron was with another. Even he feels uncertain of his own actions, unable to hide the conflict that he's feeling within his gaze. He waited for her to come back to him for years and now that she was here, things were complicated.

"It's..." His head shakes slowly, "It was nice." It was more than nice. "I missed you, Lilith." Since he was fourteen, he'd missed her. Before his life changed, after leaving Gray Harbor. He didn't want to leave her, not like this. But he had calls to make, having felt his own world shatter around him due to the ring and then to drag himself out in the aftermath. The tenants he'd ignored, friends that he lied to and clients and investors alike who were expecting contact from him days ago.

She may have pulled away, even divert her eyes from him, but he leans forward still to press a kiss against the top of her head. He savors this moment too, allowing his own eyes to shut. She says that he's forgiven and to this he can only nod. "Thank you." It's an almost odd response given what just happened, but he says this anyway. "I have a few fires of my own that need to be put out," Obligations. He remains close, his once more resting atop her crown, "But, I won't let you clean up the mess that I'd made. I'll stop by as soon as I'm done." A pause, "If you'd like me to."

Lilith closes her eyes for a prolonged moment when Byron says he missed her and that it was... nice. She absolutely has to close her eyes, even though she's not looking at him or anywhere nearby when he says it. Because it comes with the lean in, the closeness, the kiss at her head and hair, the rest there after with pressure. Her cheeks are starting to burn hot and she pulls in her bottom lip between teeth with trap, tasting the vestiges of her dire mistake that felt so, so...

No. Lilith shuts all that down. She breathes and tries to block it all out because it's more important to feel him where he is right now, isn't it? Everything inside her burns to snap at him immediately that she can clean up everything herself. She's alone, alone, alone now. Hank needed her. When someone needs you, even when you're lonely, you're never really quite alone. And he's gone now. Byron doesn't need her either. Because as far as she can tell, he has every single thing he needs in life. He has magnificent income, he has prestige and accomplishments and duties all catered to the drive inside him. He has a girlfriend no doubt with the money and image that suits him. (Lilith is still bitter about not knowing, would this have happened?)

He can have whatever he wants in the whole world just because he decides he wants it. What the fuck was she thinking?

Eventually, though, for the sake of seeming normal, she murmurs, "I'll get a head start on it. We've both made messes. I understand the need to be part of the cleanup." Her eyes open and she shifts a little bit, glancing down at herself, feeling absolutely ridiculous about what she's wearing and not wearing all of a sudden, "But you should take care of your life and the pieces there first. Not mine. Okay?"

There was a comfort brought about when things felt so... nostalgic. These moments from their past which sometimes rise to the surface either through bits and pieces of conversation or memories. Natural memories and those that you tap into when digging through the complexity of the human mind. Lilith's mind. How he longed to return to such simpler times. Things are complicated and confusing now with these layers that they've built for themselves. Some might think that Byron had changed the most out of everyone due to the way he presents himself, but he can easily see that Lilith's done a lot of growing up too.

She was no longer that little girl. No, she is what that little girl grew into when needing to cope with the difficulties in her life.

Relieved that they both survived their encounter with the ring, even with the knowledge that they'd hurt one another, there's this reluctance for him to just up and leave the room. It's an awkward feeling after that kiss to just pack up and go, but before he even stepped foot into this room, preparations were made for his release. Seeing Lilith was just what he needed to do before then.

He even smiles a touch, seeing her drowning in that far-too-large Hogswarth shirt. "My messes... won't go away until these murders stop. And even then, there will be those who will distrust that security can protect them. Your mess," And he's only talking about the trashing he'd given her office and loft. He releases a heavy sigh, "You'll see... I'll meet you back at your place in a couple of hours, alright?" This was going to be a long day.

"Don't rush. I still have some things to get to before I can even walk through the doors." Lilith tells Byron quietly, still avoiding his eyes and general position with her own eyes, legs finally dropping to stand so she can start trying to make the oversized pair of men's sweatpants fit for transport in a way they won't fall down or be tripped over. She leaves out the part about the ex-marine and cop taking her home. But then again, it's probably not a mystery who's pants she's getting into.

Lilith's eyes kind of trail Byron's feet and legs to the door with a bit of side-eyeing, though, when he moves out. And when the door closes, she sits back down on the edge of the bed and pulls her legs up with herself to hug them, chin atop her knees. She allows herself to sit like that like she has to hold herself together or fly apart for a long time in silence.

When Michael comes back in, she's fine. But she's also suddenly keenly aware that if he hadn't been there these past few days... how alone she would have been.

Lilith doesn't only feel like a spurned idiot now. She also feels like a dick. But damned if she's going to show it. The only way out is through. So she does that.