2019-08-31 - Breakfast Painfully Interrupted

Summers in Gray Harbor could be hot and sweltering and this morning was no different. Rather than trying to rely on a passing breeze to drift in to cool down the apartment, Byron had the air conditioning on instead, keeping the penthouse to a nice sixty-three degrees. The sound of alternative and classic rock tunes pour out from various speakers within the place as Byron goes about his morning business. It's the weekend, but he's already wearing a white buttoned down with black slacks, a navy and charcoal striped tie done perfectly hangs at his collar.

The beautiful aroma of coffee waft though the air when the espresso machine starts to pour. A yet untouched plate of omelettes and toast wait for Thorne on the kitchen island, the morning paper set down beside it. Vivian must've headed out to her office, the place was empty by the time he'd woken up. This was the kind of relationship you'd expect from a pair of working professionals.

He had a few things to do that morning, several calls to make to test the waters and see if anyone he knew was willing to do anything and everything in their power to potentially put an end to the serial killing going on in town. Stopping by at the hospital if only to ask Clayton about some random cardboard box that Gohl's bones were kept in was also on his agenda for the day. That's the only reason why he'd be visiting the man in the hospital, right? To get answers. Oddly enough, a present given to him for his birthday only then catches his eyes when he passes by the bar once exiting his office. It's a small bottle of limited-run whiskey from a Washington distillery. Possibly seven years old. Still unopened too.

His coffee mug filled, some space at the top left clear, Byron's just about to reach for it and top the beverage off with a little frothed milk. This was going to be the perfect start of what should have been a busy day.

Something else had other things in mind for Byron Thorne's Saturday.

Just before his fingertips touch the ceramic surface of the coffee mug, an incredible pain sends him reeling back, hand withdrawn to clutch desperately at his chest. He's buckled over, his free hand helping him to brace himself against first, the kitchen counter, before stumbling heavily up against the edge of the island. He's struggling to breathe as he experiences the painful process of feeling several of the bones that make up his rib cage slowly grind and twist before snapping one after the other. The assault really did come from nowhere. He had no sense that anything was awry, no change in the air; nothing that could have warned him of what's to come.

Struggling to drag himself along the length of the island before making a few unsteady steps forward to crash against, but not onto, the black leather couch, Thorne feels his body grow heavy as he sinks down against the floor, back resting against the executive-styled piece of furniture. His brow was covered in sweat, hair damp as he tries his damnedest to catch his breath. Something about all of this scared him; it stirred up dark memories from his past. It felt terribly familiar. This wasn't the first time that his ribcage was ever broken.

A hand reaches into his pocket to fish out his phone, before he tries to navigate the menus with trembling fingers. There are a few mis-presses, but soon the call goes out and is wisely placed on speaker phone.

After a single ring, Lilith's voice is soon heard, "Hey, hello. "

Byron was not in a great physical state for conversation, his chest was wracked with pain and every movement hurt, that included breathing. So when he speaks, it's reflected in his voice, " Lil," He pauses for breath, "Something happened. I... I don't who or what, but... " There's another long pause, he's in a near panic right now, but that wasn't going to help him in this situation. By now, the phone slips from his hand to rest next to where he leans heavily against the couch, on the floor, "I think my ribs are broken. I don't know who or what did it. I couldn't get a sense of anything. "

The worried yet comforting voice on the other line asks even if it's laced with dread, "... where were you? Where are you? What were you-- are you safe right now? "

Byron fights to keep his composure in check. The music that fills the room can be picked up from the phone; and so can the sound of Thorne's strained breaths, " I'm at home. Vivian's probably at the office. She can't help right now." This is followed by another long pause, "I don't really know if it's safe. If I'm in the clear. "

The fire of determination in Lilith's voice is something that Byron is very familiar with. "You'll be safe with me. I'm locking up and coming over, don't try to talk anymore, just work on breathing and don't move around. Ribs... move and poke things when they're broken, sometimes, and goddamnit, I'm going to be the one poking you. " The sounds of her locking up the shop brings some comfort to him. It won't be long now. This is followed by a quick addition as she tries to keep things light, "Yes, I realize you're the poker in a poking situation, but that doesn't stop me, tell your guy I'm coming. "

At that moment, Byron takes in a deep, painful swallow, though even his face cracks with a smile, strained laughter in his voice, "I'll let him know that you're on the way." An exhaustive pause, "Thanks, Lily."

All that Byron Thorne could do now was wait patiently for Winslow's arrival. He's thinking of others to contact, perhaps to warn. There's much uncertainty to what happened here this morning and he's not about to rule out that this was the work of Billy the Ghoul or Thomas Addington. From where he's slumped over, his head tilts to the side, his gaze staring out into the far distance at the front door. Security could get in, they had necessary access in case of emergencies. Speaking of, he murmurs out to his phone, "Call Frank." The gatekeeper downstairs.