2019-08-01 - Joy Riding

There is an old saying: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Guess someone missed that lesson. In fact, the entire adventure helping Lilith clean her loft went fine, to a point. Then it rapidly stopped being fine, which has ended with Vivian having Byron's car, and heading down to Alexander's house to pick him up. When she reaches the house she turns the car off and gets out, the keys in her hand as she moves towards the house, double checking the address before she moves to knock on the door.

"Aexander. It is Vivian."

There is nothing official or professional about this.

Alexander opens the door, looking puzzled. Not because she's here - the text messages made it clear that she was coming over, and that driving Byron's car was likely to be involved. But WHY these things are happening is still clearly a mystery to him. He's dressed in a battered t-shirt and jeans, his usual summer clothes, although he still looks a bit overheated, and has a handkerchief in one hand to wipe at his forehead when the sweat beads up. He starts to say "Dr. Glass," but her own greeting causes the words to go quiet. He studies her for a moment. "Vivian. I take it we're driving somewhere? Or did you want to come in?"

"We can go where ever you like." Vivian replies, holding the keys out towards him, and while she might outwardly appear to be as calm as ever, there is distinctly something off about her mood. She takes in his appearance, "There is an ice cream place on the Boardwalk, perhaps there?"

It's a somewhere, at least.

Alexander takes the keys, carefully. He looks past her to the Wraith. Goddamn, but that's a beautiful car. But a part of him clearly expected to see Byron dying in the back seat or something that would explain why the Wraith, and why Vivian is here, giving him, of all people, the keys. He refocuses, no more enlightened than before. "Sure. They've got good ice cream." He gestures towards the car, and steps out to lock the door behind him with his own keys. He walks to the car, like it might suddenly disappear, or bite him. "What is going on, Dr...Vivian?" This asked before he tries and open the door, just in case it's some sort of psychological test he's about to fail.

"That is a complicated question." Vivian moves towards the car, around to the passenger side and opens the door. No text. She slides in and closes the door, waiting on him to get in or at the very least open the door before she explains, "Byron pissed me off, tossed his keys at me like I was...whatever."

Then one hand is raised, and she takes a moment, "We went to Miss Winslow's loft to help clean up, and after everyone else was shoo'd out and she went to be sick, I said perhaps we should allow her time alone. Since she'd expressed wanting the loft emptied of people, but Byron refused to leave, so now she's being sick with two idiotic males trying to out prove themselves as a friend." Pause. "Or something."

Alexander follows Vivian's lead; when she opens the door, he does likewise and slides in. He can't help himself. He looks at the interior and there's this wistful little grin on his face for just a moment. He starts the car, but waits to hear the story. "Ah," he says, quietly. Now he's pulling out of the driveway - honestly, leaving a car like this anywhere on Elm, even with people actively inside of it, is just asking for trouble, so he's happy to start moving. And driving. And, possibly unfortunately, talking. "So," he says, slowly. "You're angry, and feeling slighted. And concerned about the nature of Thorne's relationship with Miss Winslow."

"The thought had occured to me." Vivian replies, crossing her legs and getting comfortable, arms crossing, "Byron and I have a complicated relationship, and it's not always smooth sailing. We've broken up before, for various reasons....I'm not foolish enough to think that there's never been anyone else, before, between, after. But I've never just..." She shakes her head, "I've never had him just toss his keys and dismiss me, but I grant that he's irritated right now, too. I'm sure I irritated him, he's now irritated me. Very rational."

"And now you're using me to irritate him back in turn, since you know he's not going to like me driving his car," Alexander points out, with a sidelong look at her. Most of his attention is on the road, though, and the feel of the car's smooth, powerful movements as he drives them towards the coast. "Very rational."

"It was that or I break the windshield. This way I at least get someone that'll talk to me." Vivian points out, shaking her head, "And yes, I realize that it is petty, and that it is...in fact wrong. But he did give me his car and tell me that he'd call me when he was ready, he never said don't let anyone drive my car."

There's a sudden flash of a grin. "I'm definitely cheaper than the windshield on a Rolls Royce," Alexander allows. Then thinks, for a bit. "That was kind of shitty. Expecting you to just be summoned when he decided he wanted to go home." A roll of his shoulders. "I don't blame you for getting angry about that. It would irritate me, too." A thoughtful pause. "You said two men with Miss Winslow. Who was the other?"

"Carver Alistair. Which I've figured is the source of the irritation, but Miss Winslow seemed perfectly fine draping herself over him. Which is why I encouraged leaving." Vivian drums her fingers against her arm, "It's a mess, either way. But I wasn't going to throw a fit right in the middle of some strangers living room because Byron was being crabby." She glances over, smiling faintly, "If you happen to scratch the paint or anything, I'm sure it would be accidental."

"Oh, no," Alexander says, and clucks his tongue. "There is a point to which I'm willing to indulge the irritation of Byron Thorne, if only because I'm also a touch irate at him. But not property damage, even minor. I assume he likes this car." There's the smallest, thoughtful frown as the name is mentioned. "That...makes sense. I've never met the good Mister Carver, but I know Thorne has always been a bit suspicious of him. Not without reason, by the sound of it. I can't imagine he'd want to leave someone he cares about in the guy's charge."

"What are you irate with him about?" Vivian glances towards the window, leaning over to rest her forehead against the glass, "I know about his involvement in some of the ring situation. And while I agree that was....shitty." She frowns a moment, organizing her thoughts, "But she's also a grown adult and it's not his choice who she is or is not with."

"Nothing big," Alexander says, with a shrug. "But I'm not without my petty moments, either. So," he's driving a truly ridiculously awesome car, and maybe taking a small sort of satisfaction in the fact that Byron will be, at the least, a touch exasperated that he was allowed the indulgence. "Hmm, Carver's involvement? I don't know much about that. And you're not wrong. About Miss Winslow and choices. But," his voice softens just a touch, "Thorne shot someone he has a pretty strong emotional attachment to. It's," he thinks about it, "it's a hell of a thing to realize what you're capable of, on the dark side of things. Overprotection isn't an uncommon reaction."

"She was drunk." Vivian offers thoughtfully, "And I'd never met her before....and we all walk into this, with her loft a mess. It was fine when people were cleaning, but how do you think she'd feel if I'd continued to linger? She doesn't know me...maybe I should have just left without telling him we should go. Maybe I shouldn't have. I don't know. I'm angry, and I realize that if roles were reversed and it was someone I cared about, that I grew up with, I'd not want to leave either."

"The loft was torn to pieces," Alexander admits, with a grimace. "I visited it when I was looking for them. That had to be hard to come back home to." He doesn't say anything about should or shouldn't have; he listens, but clearly wasn't there, and isn't even going to try to navigate the minefields of what-ifs. Instead, he says, "One of the good things about driving, one of the things that I miss, is that it helps you think about things. Something about the vibration of the motor and sensation of travel. For me. Anyway." He's definitely taking the long way to the coast, looping around on a road that provides a lovely view of the harbor.

"I always liked driving because I could stop thinking." Vivian straightens up, a hand sliding against the door, "Just tune out and enjoy the speed, the view. Just close off and...be. Except when in the city where traveling anywhere was a three hour standstill and all you had was time to think. I listened to a lot of audiobooks." She taps her toes in the air, pondering something, "I spoke with Miss Reede."

"Ah, well," Alexander shrugs as if to say 'different strokes for different folks'. "One of the few delights of Gray Harbor that the cities don't have is that we absolutely rarely have three hour standstills in traffic. Unless the wrong road floods out, I guess." There's another sidelong look to her at the last bit, his expression going blank as he takes a curve. He's a careful driver, maybe because this car is worth more than every asset his family owns, but maybe just because that's how he drives. "Did you?"

"I did." Vivian studies him for a little while before she sighs, "I'm not going to pry, but I really do wonder why you are pushing her away. Rather, wonder if my guess at why is actually correct." She reaches into her pocket to pull out a piece of peppermint, unwrapping it, "I also heard about your serial killer situation."

"My serial killer situation." Alexander's voice is blank. "That's one way to put it." He frowns at the road ahead, rather than at Vivian. "You are prying. For the record." He takes a breath. "We spoke earlier today. I've already explained it to her. But. In a nutshell, the whole ring thing was a bit too much. When I came back to Gray Harbor, I didn't speak to anyone I didn't have to for a couple of years. I had a narrative from before I left, people put me in it, I stayed there because I couldn't...deal with people. Caring about them. Getting involved with them." A longer pause. "The last few months have been, I think, the most human contact I've had in over a decade. It's an adjustment. And having to stay in someone else's home, with someone I barely know, having to hurt and restrain that person, and all of you feeling things at each other at pretty much top volume and in such complicated ways." He takes a breath, lets it out. "I needed not to talk to any of you for a while. Afterwards. When I woke up and saw her in my hospital room, which was yet another unfamiliar place I couldn't leave, I behaved...like an asshole. I just had to get away, one way or the other."

"I am prying. But it's easier to pry than to look at my own situation, which I'm sure you understand." With a faint shrug she glances at the window again, "But I was also wrong with my guess as to why you pushed her away. I'm terribly sorry for being part of the problem with the feelings, but I still am glad that you and Miss Jones were there."

"The feelings aren't something you should apologize for." Alexander falls silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft. "I envy all of you. The feelings. You're all bound together - friends, lovers, childhood bonds. My relation to any of that is tentative and conditional. I can recognize that." To the last, though, he nods. "I'm glad Miss Jones was there. She's a good investigator, from what I've heard, and it seems to be accurate." Even the long way around, they're approaching the boardwalk, and he slows as traffic becomes the GH version of heavy. "Why did you think I pushed her away?" he asks, with a curious look.

"She recovered Isabella's gun, thankfully. From the hotel room." Vivian can't remember if she'd known that earlier, or even said it if she did. "I thought that you'd pushed her away because you were afraid that she'd be injured by mere proximity to you. That you cared, and you simply did not want her to get hurt. Which I suppose was a very narrowed view on things."

Vivian is quiet for a moment, "Either way..."

"I won't say that's not part of it. Not proximity, but we both know I'm not entirely well." Alexander flashes her a smile. "You're kind about it, and I know you think I'm a good source on the fucked up shit that is Gray Harbor, which means you listen more than most. But I'm not well, and I'm not safe." He pulls into a parking spot, and gives the steering wheel a gentle pat before killing the engine. And offering her the keys. "Tell you what. Let's go have ice cream. Talk about nothing important until Thorne calls, and you can decide whether you wanna go pick him up, or make him walk. It's a nice day for walking."

"It is a nice day for walking." Vivian agrees with a laugh, reaching out to take the keys from him before she gets out of the car, "Order as much ice cream as you want. Wouldn't want to waste our trip, and if we happen to still be eat..." She shrugs her shoulders very faintly, "It'd be a sin to waste good ice cream."