2019-08-07 - Shards of Glass

A gray drizzle falls from the sky, adding a stickiness to the air despite the moderate temperature. Luckily, Alexander doesn't have to walk that far - Lilith's pawn shop is in the same neighborhood as his own house. He doesn't seem to mind the rain; it certainly isn't going to make his over-large t-shirt bearing a faded Washington State logo or his knee-worn jeans look any worse. He stops in front of the pawn shop, studying the exterior - particularly the front window he broke when he was on the hunt for her. Then he opens the door and steps inside, his hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks, and neck, little rivulets of water running down his skin. He makes his way towards the counter, trying not to drip too badly on things. "Miss Winslow?"

Lilith is seated behind the counter at the main computer doing what looks like spreadsheet work on the monitor with sales history, trends, numbers, projections, all that fun mathematical input stuff on program. Her chair is turned and her brows are knit down, bottom lip working between her teeth a little pressured with trap of bother or worry of some kind. But most of that expression is hidden away by posture. There's low music from a local radio station playing to occupy the shop space and the shop floor itself seems to be perfectly fine. So are the windows. She's even dressed somewhat nicely, a tailored pair of dark jeans with a ruffle-edged dark saffron yellow tank-blouse pairing with casual dress flats, makeup and hair semi-attended.

You'd never know she was choke-tied to a bridge and degloved not so very long ago, looking at her like this. But here she is, seeming perfectly absorbed in work and fine. The office door through the back of the shop is closed, though. It's secretly still a mess to be attended. She's probably got some doors inside to hide her own mess closed up too.

When Lilith hears the door chime with entry, she doesn't turn right away because customers happen, they're supposed to happen, it's a pawn shop. But then Alexander is close and speaking, and she practically whips the rest of the way around to look at him with big eyes in her spinny-office-style chair. Her lips press flat into a line, then slowly she rises up and goes to pull a towel from under the counter where it's folded with a few others-- rain slick gradually collecting on the tile is a thing, so she's prepared for this moment of wet-man too. At least with a towel. She's not quite prepared what to actually say, so after handing it over, she leans arms on the counter to look at him, "... hey you. Are you doing okay? I'm sorry I hurt you." A pause, "I wasn't myself."

When she whips around, Alexander steps back, and instinctive, flinchy sort of movement, and raises his hands as if to show he's not carrying any weapons. "I can go. If you're busy," he says, quietly, watching her lips press into that flat line, and tensing visibly as she slowly rises.

And then she's handing him a towel, and he's clearly not quite sure what to do with that. Other than take it, and tentatively start drying his hair, although careful not to obscure his vision. That remains firmly fixed on her, studying her face and her body language with a peculiar intensity. He words draw a frown. "I'm well. The leg has pretty much healed. And...thank you, for the apology, but I knew it wasn't something you wanted to do, Miss Winslow." He stops toweling, for a second. "How are you?"

"I... am managing. Hank is buried now. That's over, but not quite done inside. Still feels final, though. And... all the ways it felt too loud in the quiet after the noise inside for so very long... it's abating. I can... appreciate the quiet of being alone inside again, of only having my own noise. It's hard to explain. I was inhabited longer than people realized." Lilith takes a long, thoughtful moment after dropping her mascara-darkened and thickened lashes away from Alexander after she sees him a little twitchy and flinchy with her quickish response once she's heard a familiar voice to realize it's a visitor, not a customer. She looks into the glass case at some jewelry instead.

Lilith is tempted to say "fine" of course, but she flayed the man's leg open. She owes him more than that. So that considering, open and slowly quiet response of honesty is what Alexander gets. After a time, she draws her eyes back up and smiles some at him, a lopsided, self-deprecating, and utterly apologetic thing, "It feels over. I'm taking time to clean up and focus on that one good thing in the middle of a lot of terrible. It feels... done inside. Like being free to some degree." Pause, "I've had dreams that showed me how tainted we were inside and... I saw the moment it all slipped out of us to return to--" She squints suddenly, eyes briefly far away, head shaking after.

"I'm sorry. I'm going on. If you hadn't been prepared and coming after Byron... we might have..." Lilith decides not to dwell on that part and changes tact mid-sentence to get to the meat of what she's trying to say, "You're a beautiful person, Alexander Clayton. People aren't brave and decisive because they're strong and perfect. They're brave because they're afraid of what comes next if they don't do the thing they need to do. Not everyone knows how to do the things that need doing, though. You do. Thank you."

Alexander breathes out, short and sharp. "I'm sorry. About your father. I realize that your relationship was fairly terrible, and that he was not what he should have been. But I know it still hurt." He looks down at the nearest counter, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with the towel. "I'm glad that it feels over. I thought, hoped, that it might, but I don't even know what is possible anymore, it feels like. But I know that it does feel good to be alone in your own mind."

He looks up when she starts with the compliments. He blinks, eyes dark and owlish. "I...thank you. I suppose. Although Dr. Glass supplied the sedatives and the car. I just did the grunt work." He glances up towards her loft. "Actually, that's why I'm here. I owe you an apology. And restitution." He reaches into his wet pocket, laying the towel over one shoulder, and draws out an old, leather wallet. Slightly damp bills are extracted, placed on the counter. "To track you, I needed a personal item, so I broke your window and let myself in. I did not contribute to the," a grimace, "destruction up there, but I did touch your stuffed dog. And enter without your permission. I thought you should know. The money is for the window."

"I should be paying your damn hospital bills, but honestly, I feel like Byron might have beat me to that. You're not giving me money for some broken glass that I can fix. Especially when there's so much more... broken and still cutting us." Lilith bats her lashes a few times fast at Alexander pulling out money to put on the counter, then works her jaw a little with pride, "I've been breaking things for a lot of my life. Trust me. The kind of break you made? It's not one that needs restitution. And besides, it didn't cost me anything. It could have if others got in that way after you, but..."

The woman suddenly smiles and straightens from her lean on the counter, telling Alexander, "You know what happened with that hole? I fixed it, yes, but when I got home, someone had put cardboard over it. And someone else had drawn a giant dick on it, because it's Elm. And the shop itself was perfectly fine with nothing stolen, somehow. So you know what that hole you're fessing up to now makes me think?"

Lilith's posture relaxes and she laughs a little, suddenly, to herself, pushing the bills back Alexander's way, "It felt like I was back where I belonged. And at some point, I realized that people cared, even strangers. Don't give me that. I got what I needed out of you deciding to break glass."

Alexander doesn't say anything about his hospital bills, but there's an amused quirk of his lips at something in her words. "Are you sure? I know that you can fix it, but..." she goes on, and he sighs. The bills are picked up, folded back, placed neatly back in his wallet. But her words do draw a warmth into his often reptilian eyes. "Did they? I'm glad, Miss Winslow. Elm is...well, it's Elm, as you say, but people here are often desperate, but not necessarily cruel."

An inclination of his head. "Accept my apologies, if you won't the money, at least. I'm glad to see that you're smiling again. I should have come by sooner, but," he shrugs, "I did not. And it sounds like you've had no further ill-effects from your experience, other than this...dream you mentioned? About being tainted?" His head cocks to one side about that.

"I wasn't much for company for a while after getting home. I meant to ambush you in a text to get you somewhere to apologize and thank, but putting the pieces back together now that I'm sober seemed necessary too. I figured eventually, doing that, I'd be ready to face others as myself again." Lilith explains to Alexander with a tiny hitch of her shoulders in dismissal at his apologies about coming by sooner, and probably the glass too, but! She might have a clue as to how literal the man needs things to be here and there, and what he did and is apologizing for isn't just about the glass, it's about the intrusion of it, which she actually gets.

She tacks on with a level of her chin, "I accept your apologies and know you did what you needed to do." All laid out and out of the way to move forward like that, see? At least, that's the way she's putting the matter to rest instead of arguing with him about how good it was that he did it. Then she stops to consider his questions visibly with a wet of her lips before explaining, hand knocking back through her hair.

"There's fallout, sure, but unnatural effects? No. Just the recurring dream that... it wanted me to see or know or... I was floating overhead and saw it as myself, not as I was that day. The moment when the ring was pulled from me. Shadows came out, not just from us, but everywhere and slipped back into the water with the stone. Then there was lots of light. It was very mad. I don't... know if the power coming back into it imploded it or what, but I hope no one ever dredges that water to find out."

"It's fine. I didn't expect any texts, Miss Winslow. You had quite enough on your plate, and I wasn't really feeling up to much company at the time, either." Alexander's eyebrows quirk upwards, just a little, at the word 'sober', but there's a thoughtful nod. Under the circumstances, his expression seems to indicate that a bit of drunkenness might be a perfectly rational response. "It's good to put things back together with your own hands, as much as you can. Sort of like regaining a control that you felt you lost. When I get...angry, and break things, I'd usually try to put them back together, too." A crooked smile. "Not often to great success, but the process is calming."

The rest is listened to as he shifts and paces the counter a little. It's slow, exploratory rather than nervous, as if checking to make sure things were all back in order. "Interesting. Very interesting. So this was an actual sort of shadow infection of some sort, spread by the ring. Isabella found the details of it to be...curious. A mishmash of historical periods and mythological elements, I think she said." A pause. "I'm glad the damned thing is at the bottom of the lake, and may it never be found." A sidelong look. "Any problem with anyone looking for it? I understand Miss Jones was harassed by persons unknown during the worst of it."

"No. I feel like that might... be the other shadows I saw slipping out from everywhere, not just from within ourselves, the others that were unwittingly affected somehow, some way...? Either way, I'm not hard to find and no one's tried to find me or give me consequences yet. So that might be a positive indication given time passed. I guess that's just something we'll have to see about." Lilith explains to Alexander with a click of her tongue, remembering the messages that were days and days old on her phone with warning about other parties looking for the ring and possibly pointed her way, eyes narrowing a touch with recollection and thought.

Eventually, though, she hitches another tiny roll of shrug and slants another smile at Alexander, a partial but genuine kind of thing before curiosity does take over a touch, "It's not something I really want to worry about. I've had enough paranoia. If there's more consequences, so be it. But I'll be myself when it comes, if it comes." Pause, "A mishmash, huh. Like... purposefully constructed that way, or just time seeing something into a new setting?"

There's a thoughtful sound. It's a mystery, and now that it's not actively trying to kill or destroy them, Alexander does love poking at a mystery. But when she mentions not wanting to worry more about it, his grimace is immediate and apologetic. "Of course. Insensitive. Sorry." He towels off his arms, and then moves to hand the towel back to her. "Thanks. It's wet out there. And I'm not sure. You could ask Isabella about it, if you were curious. It's not really my area of expertise," he admits, a bit sheepishly. "I think she said it looked chosen, though. Like it was going for a specific effect."

He stops, stares at a case of watches. "It's curious how little we know about this place. Ourselves. Why the things that happen, happen to us." Then he straightens, his smile fleeting. "But we survive, and that's the best we can hope for, I think. Is there anything I might do for you? You seem to have most everything in order, but I don't live far, so if there ends up being something, I can give you my number. If you want."

"I have it. I got it before, remember, and you stared at me like I was having a moment of mental insanity because I was asking to have it? I just haven't used it. Yet." Lilith reaches to take the towel back from Alexander and pitches it back in the vacated seat of the office chair with occupied sling while keeping her eyes on the guy. She seems a little amused with the memory, in truth, and might be teasing him a little bit about it. Then she pauses, "But do you have Isabella's number? I would like to apologize to her for not using better judgement. When Byron wanted to investigate with others, I felt like it was wrong, but I gave in. And I shouldn't have."

"No, you were wrong," Alexander says, bluntly. "If you had insisted on keeping it to just the two of you, then there probably would have been four bodies hanging from that bridge, assuming that you didn't kill each other over the damned ring before you got that far." His gaze is dark, serious as he studies her. "Don't take from this the lesson that you can't involve people in your troubles. You have a lot of people who care about you, and that's a rare thing. Shutting them out does you and them a disservice."

And then his gaze drops, and he winces. "Not really any of my business, I know. But you're lucky. To have people like that. And I'm glad I gave you my number. It must have slipped my mind." A shrug. "Well. Since you have it. If something else comes up, let me know."

Lilith seems a little thrown by Alexander's quick and blunt return of reply and explanation, not because it's blunt, she's used to that from him, and she expects it. But the bit about shutting people out, that's a personal habit that's ages and ages old, the thing that derailed everything at the start, the thing that she fights even now. Her breath kind of sucks in sharp and quiet and short before she cuts profile to him to look out at the rest of the shop instead of company, and her hands latch thumbs into the denim pockets of her jeans as she rocks back on her heels, seeming a little lost in memory or consideration.

Eventually, though, she looks back at the man and makes her own jab of blunt retort after seeming to take his words at face value, "I think you should get used to the idea that others care and value you too. We're all real good at double standards in our own ways, aren't we?" But it's not a barb so much as it's a reminder that's intuition-crafted on the way of his mannerisms and the way he's kind of bad at accepting compliments and seems a little blindsided when others go reaching out to get in. Just like her. The reasons are just a little different. She ends her words with a full on smile, muted and softened as it is, not one of those slants, twitches, or half-measures.

"And I will."

There's a grunt as the ball is thrown back into Alexander's court, as if he'd been forced to catch a tossed medicine ball. "It's a terrifying thought, Miss Winslow. But I'll make an effort, as long as you do the same." He turns away, staring at a collection of guitar picks instead of at her. "At any rate, I just came to apologize, see how you were doing, and all of that. I'm glad you're doing well. Continue it, and don't die."

With that, he turns on his heel and starts to leave.

"I'll try. You don't die either. But if you do? You're allowed to haunt me in the name of keeping company." Lilith takes a moment to look at Alexander studying the guitar picks and goes a little pensive before she puts up a hand in wave and pulls the towel from the chair so she can drop back down into sit. Her called after words to his departure are maybe a little morbid considering where they live and how they seem to live due to circumstance. But maybe that's what makes it sound pretty fond in its own way too.

Once she sees the door close and the chime does the noise, she crosses her legs and sits still and quiet for a long time with a thumbnail absently between her teeth, lost in her own thoughts. But eventually, she spins around to continue plowing through the numbing figures and paperwork on the computer monitor to make things suitably quiet again when they become too much.