2019-08-31 - Breathe Again

Thank god they got Lilith that car or who knows how long Byron would've had to wait for her to get all the way from Elm to Bayside Road. The crushing and grinding sensation that twisted his bones into breaking have already ceased, leaving him in an exhausted heap on the floor, his slumped frame leaning against the back of the leather couch. The stereo was still playing and the AC was running high, leaving the room completely chilled in contrast to the heat outside.

After he contacted the Apartments' gatekeeper to let them know that there'd been an emergency and to let Miss Winslow into his apartment, rather than exert his energy to try and reach out to others, he stops there. That composure that he tried to keep when informing Lilith of his predicament, that melted away the moment he was off the phone. The moment he told Frank to let Lilith through. His face glowed with a fevered sheen, the damp hair brushing against his brow as he struggles to take in deep breath after deep breath.

That's where Lilith will find Byron once she gets in. The omelette and toast still untouched on the kitchen island while a cooling mug of coffee rests within the espresso maker.

It's not Frank who accompanies Winslow up to the penthouse. It's one of the many security guards that Thorne had hired to keep his tenants and especially a particular Addington safe. The man is dressed in full security uniform, watching the numbers rise in the elevator car. He's never been to the top floor before. Then the elevator door opens and he fumbles to get out the master key which he had to retrieve at the guardhouse. "I'll get that opened for you, Miss."

Lilith is really keeping it together, she is, it's not really an option at this point because she needs to be a rock right now for Byron and probably a whole lot more, besides. But once the elevator dings to the top floor, she's not waiting on the poor security guard to find the right key there with fumbling, she darts ahead and puts her hand out to the knob to tick it one way, then the other with a total lack of patience. The man is quick behind, of course, he's not a total bumbling idiot, working in Byron's building, no doubt, just a little unfamiliar in a way she doesn't have the wits to wait for right now.

See, once they're on that top floor, with her attuned to the situation and Byron's bodily state from the phone, her senses attune to him too, not with any mental link, but in a way she can feel the wrongness of everything about his body through the doorway barrier. It'd be a lot like some variation of him mentally hearing her screaming in her own head on approach if he was feeling out and ready for it. So when she's at the door, she doesn't even think about how she's doing the thing she does. And it's a good thing she does what she does the less obvious way. There's two possible ways she can do a break and entry and this is the less... violent one.

Determination and protective nature is a hell of a thing. That lock pops fast in two places before the guy's close enough to hear it and Lilith plays it off like it's already open, hurrying in with slam of the door behind in her rush, calling back mindlessly with gush of politeness as reflex, "Oh! Look at that, unlocked, don't dig, thanks for the help, excuse me, have a good day." Mister Thorne doesn't need the help seeing him out of commission and stirring gossip fans among the employee ranks, though there may well already be some speculation given the call, who knows.

The brunette stops short to look around once in with brows knit, then takes a dart for behind the couch where Byron is slumped, her face paling. But despite that bobble of emotion, her fine features are stalwart with concern, care, and ferocious determination seeing him in such a way, in so much pain and unable to move or even breathe easily. Immediately, she's kneeling down to reach a hand to his brow, "Shhh. I'm here. Don't say anything. Just breathe. It's going to feel strange, I think, this time."

It's unwitting, but her eyes take a defensive, paranoid look around at their immediate surroundings there for a beat after she feels the heat of his skin, and... well, heaven help anything that dares from the look of her there for that tick. She seems aptly ready to start throwing fire at the very air itself for encroaching his space while he's struggling to breathe. Quickly, though, her focus is back on him with assessing and a certain... distance in her eyes that signifies she's looking into him or deconstructing him in some way with her survey.

Byron doesn't realize that Lilith is the first through that door the way that his eyes are glazed over staring off into nothingness. Laying next to him is his phone which is buzzing like crazy right about now. On her way over, Lilith may have heard loud music blasting somewhere around the building. That's what the call is most likely about, but Byron's far too out of it to react to the complaint immediately. When he finally notices Lilith inside the apartment, his eyes look beyond her towards the door. Security wasn't coming inside? "Did Frank send one of the security team to let you in?" That's the only way anyone had access to the penthouse either way. A special key.

He really is glad to see her even if the only hint of a smile on his lips is a very weak one. All this time, he'd spent the few passing moments alone lost in thoughts that would drift in and out of the disturbance of pain, allowing his mind to dig up old memories once more. So it was a relief to him to have his mind taken away from such things. "It's gone. I think." She told him not to talk, but he has things to say. "Whoever it was."

As she assesses his physical state, she will notice that nearly half of the bones in his ribcage are broken, thankfully, in the slow process in which they were twisted with each break happening after the last rather them breaking together, none of his vitals had been punctured. "Need to warn the others." He says this, but he's really not certain. Warn them about what? And who? Who is in danger?

"Mhm. Came up with me. And okay. We'll sound whatever alarms you want as soon as we get you in a way we're both feeling some form of okay with." Lilith tells Byron with a passive kind of drift to her words with patient assurance and promises while her eyes fan out over his body. Her hands go to the sides of his neck, clasping there instead of touching at his ribs for some reason, feeling his pulse race with erraticism that comes from the struggling breath and pain and flush of his skin. She could go right into it, she's tempted to jump right into his body and make it right again, without any kind of fear or anxiety about it. She knows how his body is supposed to be, he has the advantage of that and all the affection-laden drive to motivate her from the very core.

Lilith isn't a doctor. She's doing everything on a level that seems odd to outsider perspective, but what she's really doing with that touch and closeness is threefold-- she's not touching the pained and injured portion of his body because that's not necessary and there's no need to add to his discomfort. And, with her hands at his pulse, there's an intimacy to the hold like that, an attuning to his very lifebeat while she takes the time to control the moment and her will just so. Nothing happens immediately with the first shimmer of exert, not outwardly, but she knows the air around them has shifted and she can see so much more clearly what she needs to do inside of his crushed, broken man frame.

Unlike the external small things she has drawn to knit for Byron's skin before, this... is a little different. The bones have to move back into place and straighten and that takes a huge rush of energy as she works on teeny tiny levels to make his body fast repair for the bulk job of stabilizing and setting his ribs out of dangerous position that confines his air. Things start to shift back toward proper like she's pulling the strings of a symphony in his body. And it all starts with a kiss against his brow that she holds while her hands are still fanned in that intimate hold on his neck, lashes lowered down over her own eyes to see without seeing at all when it starts.

She holds that pose. She's scared of breaking people, even when she's trying to help, but not right now. It's pure will pouring out of her to animate and align his body from a mitochondrial level, everything accelerated to compensate for what's happening. Then it's over and he's probably still quite tender, but... she still holds that pose with her lips in pressure against his brow, mouth vaguely parted to flutter with shallow breath while she exerts and concentrates. And she won't move until she hears one true full breath out of him again, no matter if it's still uncomfortable. She wants a solid breath.

After the question is asked, Byron's mind still a daze, goes through a list of names of people who need to be warned. Erin Addington. Hyacinth Addington. Isabella Reede. Rebecca Carr. Frankie Dubois. Andi Johnson. Alexander Clayton Those usually attentive dark eyes glisten with moisture, glazed as his mind rambles in lost thought. Going through those names, for the most part, with additional ones thrown in if his mind can even grasp that they are of the cursed bloodlines.

Playing patient for Lilith now, his body is covered in business attire sans suit jacket. But as she's not prodding and probing over the section hidden beneath his dress shirt that does leave the task of unbuttoning it while undoing his tie to be unnecessary, thus not taking up the time that it would go through those motions.

Semi-distracted eyes drift to quietly observe Lilith when she treats him so gently with this magical fingers. If not for Lilith, an ambulance would've been here for him now and he'd be in some bed in Addington Memorial some time later today. Instead he was here, doing his best to breathe. He can feel those odd sensations within him, sometimes they tingle with life. It's not only the way that his bones begin to mend, but also when they shift into place inside of him.

Who did this to him? He has a few guesses. But he wasn't of the blood. And did that really matter?

When he feels the soft kiss above his eyes, his chin lifts to savor that moment, his own eyes closing now too. They'll remain there together in this quiet as she focuses not only on his hearbeat but on his labored breath. One, two. Then finally she gets what she wants, what she's waiting for a long, single untroubled breath. It doesn't come without discomfort, of course, but by the sound of it, his breathing is returning to normal.

Lilith Winslow is a known and proven tempest that blows with violence through the far too potent rush of power coursing her blood and being. With this much fury and protective burn inside her, it's a wonder the very walls weren't tearing down on the way in. But it's still inside her and she can feel it moving around now that she's harnessed her power to give Byron a very personal and powerful state of grace after such a brutal attack. When she hears that breath come, though, it realigns her and she stops thinking about fire and blood and revenge.

The woman takes the moment to feel him alive. Her lips shift and she's pressing them down the bridge of his nose in quick brush succession of relief before hitting the corner of his lips, his cheek, his jaw, his... neck. She kisses where her hand moves away to uncover the pulse, nudges her nose there to try and abate some of the cold fear that has room now behind will and fury when feeling the heat. Then she buries her face there in lieu of actually grabbing him into a hug because that's probably still not something desirable right now for him, no matter what she just did. The body has to play catchup to what's been shifted inside and compensation isn't always pleasant, even if it is markedly more pleasant than being broken and crushed.

"Okay. Now. If I can't go kill anyone for this yet..." Lilith murmurs against his skin, "Who are we calling first?"

Yet.

Byron could finally breathe despite the ache, so he'll take a long quiet moment to do just that. This all felt very familiar as well, the way that his broken and damaged body would heal itself after... after he'd come to. It was all coming back to him slowly, the way that his head swayed with old memories and random thoughts and... Erin Addington. Hyacinth Addington. Isabella Reede. Rebecca Carr. Frankie Dubois. Andi Johnson, Alexander Clayton, Melisande Clancy Was that her name?

He doesn't move from where's seated, his limbs resting limply at his side, one hand sits right beside his phone. He cherishes the sweet kisses that make a gentle line across his face, to the edge of his lips and then at his neck where Lilith's hand once rested to feel for his pulse. She can feel his muscles contract when he swallows, his throat feeling parched.

He was breathing. The air and the diminishing pain helps to clear his mind. Kill. It was an unspoken thing between him and this other. Neither of them uttered the word aloud and merely danced around the idea, "Captain de la Vega." Strangely, this wasn't one of the names that was playing in his mind over and over again, but it's something that slips out now.

He then murmurs, "Tobin." Though Tobin had nothing to do with the bones, it's also one of the first names out, "Bella. Isabella should know."

"Okay. Let's get some water in you. Don't move yet until we get something to cool you down, your body is still... accelerated." Lilith murmurs at the side of Byron's neck while listening, reaching to put his phone in unlock range so she can use it to make the first call, because it's a number she doesn't have. She's trembling some at the jaw on pull away, but it comes in little twitch spells before she works to control it, "Here. I'll use yours to call the detective. Tobin might be on the boat given the time, but I'll leave him a voice mail on my phone next, then I'll call Isabella."

The woman seems a little unwilling to leave his side even to get him water with rising, but as she shifts on her knees in the little simple black halter sundress she's wearing with lacing sandals in silver, she pushes hair back away from her face and shoulders and looks at him for a moment. She must have been crying at some point, to some misty degree, at least, because her mascara and eyeliner is somewhat smudged to intensify the blue of her eyes while she looks at Byron in that space of time. Then when his phone is unlocked, she rises up to take it with her to go get him some water out of the fridge door, cold and crisp and wet for his throat and mouth and body.

When she comes back, she's holding the phone against a shoulder and immediately kneels nearby again to silently wonder if he wants the awkward moment of her holding the glass to his mouth or if he wants to take it himself with a hand. She seems to be fine with either, so long as the liquid gets in the man. Her other hand, though, loosens his tie for him some and pops the top couple of buttons on his business shirt to give him more air and comfort and breathing space for recovery lounge until they decide it's time for the actual couch as it was designed to be used instead of lean support at the frame.

Stillness, thy name is Byron Thorne. He remembers how painful it was to move, so when Lilith instructs him to remain seated, he is more than happy to comply. His skin really was hot and peppered with droplets of sweat after the agony he'd gone through and his body's fight for survival, if only just to breathe. He was beginning to be able to focus and when the phone is pushed in his direction, he uses his thumbprint and a random shape across those 9 dots to unlock it.

Did he really say to call Captain de la Vega? Maybe in his fevered mind he did, but right now he's not certain. "The Captain?" The confusion is clear in his voice, but he quickly nods, "Isabella. I.." He licks at his lips now, so dry, followed by a shake of his head, "If this wasn't Gohl's doing then who? And if Gohl is on the attack like I said he would be then all of those names I'd listed," He went through those names in his mind, never aloud but he doesn't realize that, "Any one of them might be the next target."

He's coming to his senses in full even if his chest still throbbed, so he might not immediately notice the smudge of mascara on Lilith's face. Not when she moves like a whirlwind into action that is, handing him the glass of water while taking his phone. "Thanks." It's only at that moment with that cooling liquid soothing his dry mouth and throat that he gets a good look at the pretty brunette through a far more focused gaze then he had held earlier. It only really dawns on him that she had done it. That she had healed him. "Thanks, Lily. I don't know what I would've done without you." Would he have died here? How long before the ambulance arrived? But he was a survivor... or someone was sending a message.

"Detective. This is Lilith Winslow. Are you available for an urgent matter? Mister Thorne has been brutally assaulted but we don't know by whom. He called me to come and help him. I found him on the floor with his ribcage splintered." Lilith tugs up a barebones, but genuine affectionate smile for Byron while he's looking at her and drinking and she's talking on the phone, kneeled nearby once more. Her lips kind of twist to the side with a bit of uncertainty to whatever comes from the other end though after nodding to the fact that yes, he did ask for the Captain to be called, "I fixed him. We're in the penthouse."

Then there's a far more uncertain pause as she hits the mute button a moment and informs and asks Byron, "He asked if you were in the hospital. I explained. Now he says there's an officer on the way and is asking if we want paramedics... do you..." She doesn't look like she wants that and she doesn't think he wants to be laid up in a hospital or taken with paramedics, she knows he doesn't need it so much as he needs some time and still rest now until the body plays catchup to what was done, "Do you want to talk or do you want me to deflect and imply you'd rather him directly at earliest convenience?"

They were both seated there on the floor behind the couch. All in all, the room didn't look as much as a mess as it could have given the abrupt nature of his injury and the pain in which Byron had dragged himself around to. Right here on the floor, this was comforting. He didn't want to move from it at all. He takes in another thankfully deep breath before quenching his thirst again. Though the powerful aroma of coffee fills the room, the cooling sensation of this glass of water truly does the trick.

He doesn't shy away from her when their eyes meet, even though there's no denying that he'd been caught staring. "De la Vega did?" There's a pause as he considers speaking to the detective himself, his hand then reaching out to her as an indicator that he'll take the call. "Captain de la Vega, Thorne here. There's no need for paramedics. Miss Winslow took care of it. I may need some bed rest for the rest of the day, but I believe that I'm on the mend and I'm just taking precautionary measures to not agitate the injury further. Thank you."

His dark eyes on Lilith, he murmurs, "I'm sure he has a lot of questions on his mind since he's investigating these murders, but.." His brow creases, his attention drawn off to the distance, "Why wasn't I..." The others were killed. This wasn't Gohl's MO was it?

"Maybe you're harder to kill than you think. It is possible, since our powers are an exertion of will, that your own will... made it less lethal than it might have been for another since it wasn't a weapon used on you in a fully physical sense. Maybe it was because you were awake, not asleep? Wasn't at least one, if not a few of them in bed when found? Also wasn't there someone in the paper that was almost killed before, but not quite? I think she really is dead now, though. The coroner?" Lilith hangs on the phrase 'these murders' and it doesn't matter that Byron isn't dead, the sheer severity looked like someone was trying to kill him and didn't quite muster a full crush on him.

But then again, he could have a cut on his chest and she might perceive it as someone trying to rip his heart out with her particular affectionate, protective lens shading, so... basically all brutal attacks are murder attempts and someone trying to take him from her in her eyes. But at least she's making comparisons with quiet voice after he speaks into the phone.

Then she recalls her own phone and she crawls backwards a little to get her bag where it dropped off her shoulder at the far edge of the couch on the floor before she rounded it to get a view of Byron as she found him. After digging it out, she walks back on her knees to where Byron is and uses one hand to arrange some of his hair while finding the number with the other hand for presumably Isabella. While it's ringing, she leans forward to nuzzle her nose against the short, stinging bristles of his facial hair at one side, eyes closed, "Mostly, though, you're just too handsome to die."

The final thing that Thorne says to Ruiz is, "I understand." More than likely, as he'd expected Ruiz will want to talk to him about this soon.

He wasn't Alexander Clayton so didn't have every bit of information from these various murder scenes memorized or noted in anyway. Byron is trying to recall things from memory. What happened during those other murders. "Doctor Faust had her throat slit, just like how Clayton did." He's trying to recall what Rebecca Carr had said. The police department didn't even give him much information on Susan Lewis' murder. Then something comes to light, "Erin Addington's parents died in a car crash of all things. Not a slicing." Maybe cutting into people wasn't his MO.

A slow nod follows when Lilith mentions Penny, "So I'd heard. Doctor Faust. Which is unfortunate as she'd been quite helpful to us." His gaze lingers on Winslow, eyes thoughtful, "We still don't even know how she or her brother are linked into any of this. Or how I fit in. Except for the fact that we helped to meddle with the bones."

His gaze follows along when she's crawling towards her own bag for her own phone before she returns to settle besides him again, her hand toying with his damp hair, her nose nuzzling against his chin. Breathing in her essence, he allows his eyes to shut closed for another comforting moment, taking this time to lean in against her, his own back still pressed up against the couch. One of his arms lift to wrap around her shoulder, pulling her in close. He was still stunned by all of this. Did Gohl really target him?

When the faint sound of a woman's voice picking up on the other end is heard from Lilith's phone held at her ear while she's in close to Byron, she draws back to look at him while speaking the situation into the phone without a mince of words. It's a bit as if she needs to be viewing him alive while talking. And when she talks, the woman's voice is a careful version of calm, the kind that comes with bad news in a moment of forced self control while saying the words aloud, "Isabella. I couldn't... I hope you're not busy, but I couldn't text this-- Byron... was recently attacked in his home by... something unknown. It was bad. It crushed his ribs, a lot of them. I'm with him and I've... you know."

There's a bit of noise at the other end and Lilith presses her lips into a flat line for a moment before speaking again with head in unconscious drift of shake to a question that's presumably being asked, nevermind that Isabella can't see her. Then Byron's arm is there with draw and she gets her voice again and takes to insisting calmly, maybe a little too calmly considering this is Lilith and she's probably wanting to burn down half the town to find responsible party somewhere inside, "He's awake. No hospitals today. He and I are going get off of the floor and get onto the couch in a very unpleasant sore moment to get him good and pissy about the whole affair. I feel like it's the healthy thing to do now that he's getting over the general shock of it. But I reset the bones already. We'll let security know you're on your way. "

She pauses, then hangs up after speaking one last time into the phone, and despite her calm, perhaps careful control during the conversation, there's a tinge of fondness in her voice, "See you very soon. Be careful." When finished, she calls and leaves a voicemail for Tobin, as he's likely out on the boat as mentioned prior. There's another nuzzle when she's finished, this time at his cheek, kissing on motivation afterwards, "Ten minutes to not be on the floor when Isabella is here. I'm fine with you staying right here. But you might not be."

Hearing de la Vega's voice brings Byron back to the last conversation he had with the man. Even as he hears Lilith speaking out to someone else on her own phone, hearing the name Isabella mentioned. All that he can really do is watch her chatter away, informing Bella of the state in which she found Byron in his own apartment. There was something that he was meaning to bring up to her regarding the police detective, but now was not the time to speak on any of that.

His thirst quenched, Byron really didn't have anything to eat all morning. His breakfast was sitting right there on the counter. However, while some part of him hungered, there was another part that wanted to throw up really badly. Hearing the last part of what Lilith says to Isabella, he's already on his own phone to send a message down to Frank again. "She's coming here now?" There's some protest in his voice, but something more half-hearted to outright rebellion to this idea.

Those ribs were on the mend, his bones fused together and everything was in their correct place. So why did his body hurt just to move? He'll let Lilith help him up, using the couch to help keep him balanced as well. He only looks slightly disheveled, despite his damp Lilith styled hair. His dress shirt was becoming untucked but it's not something that he cares to deal with at the moment. Even changing out of this professional wear into something comfortable seemed like a lot of work. He'll allow himself to be dragged over to the couch where he immediately reaches for the remote to lower the volume of the stereo before he's comfortably resettled into what will probably be his home for the next half hour to hour or more.

"Mhm. She was pretty key grabby the second she heard." Then Lilith's phone chimes with alert once they've gotten Byron moved over onto the sectional plush leather of the couch on the long L-end to have his legs up and at rest, pillows propped behind by her hands. After a moment, she tells Byron while standing with her phone, "So there's a wreck blocking her from getting out of the road that goes to her boathouse lot. Sounds like you get some more quiet downtime after all."

One of her hands goes to her hips as she eyes Byron for a moment laid out and shifting for comfort, then she goes to take off his shoes for him before moving toward the bathroom, tossing the shoes to the side of the doorway in the bedroom on her way, "Pain medicine in here? I don't think you're ready to eat yet, quite." She's on the move before he even really answers, and after directed, she comes back with whatever pain medicine she was pointed at to curl up on one of the cushions adjacent to where he's laid out with her leg drawn in fold under herself to sit on with leaned over prop to drop the pills into his mouth with a tiny 'ahhh open up' noise in the name of playing cute and over-doting, water in hand with refresh.

"Why do you think this happened, potentially? Any reasons. All reasons. Throw them out there and we'll hear what they sound like, mm?"

The walk over to the couch just shows how stiffly Byron's body felt, his muscles aching after the spasm he'd felt when he first felt that crushing sensation against his chest. Nevermind that he feels the discomfort of the pulling and shift of his body once he's settled down upon the comfortably expensive couch, his body stretching out somewhat due to laying down good and proper. The most that he'll show for it is a slight wincing in his features and this lasts for as long as it takes for his body to be used to being in this new relaxed position.

"So it'll be a while before she gets here?" He murmurs, this has him fishing for his phone once more to relay this information to Frank. Talking still hurt a bit, as did breathing, so rather than actually calling the gate security guard, he texts him instead. His eyes close shut with one of his arms lifting to drape over them and shield off some of that sunlight filtering in. "There should be some in the medicine cabinet." These words come out absently, not realizing that he had yet to restock the cabinet after the disaster that happened when the pill bottles all spilled out of it, then popping open to litter the floor with a random array of medication. He'll let her check to find out since it really did slip his mind.

When that's a failed attempt, it's a good thing that she carries medication of her own. The hand moves shielding his eyes and he tries to pull himself up, painfully, just to he can take the offered pill and swallow without that awkard feeling of choking on it if he were laying down. He resettles however, already feeling weary from the exertion.

"Why did this happen? The only thing that I can think of is William Gohl. I was in possession of his bones. Bones which I fed to the Archivist." How many did he feed? Was it five? He then follows up with, "I didn't even give the Archivist Gohl's ribcage. That was in Isabella's possession. Other than that, I can't say I have any idea. Unless this was a stunt gone wrong similar to what Clayton and his friends had done--" A pause. THAT'S what happened to his medicine cabinet. "When they destroyed.." That's when he realizes that the pills he'd taken was not one of his own. "I felt nothing before it happened. No warning. No emotions. No presence. It just happened suddenly, out of the blue."

Lilith looks at Byron a bit strangely when he talks about feeding bones to an Archivist, because while she's heard the initial start of things, once upon a time, it's all been piecemeal or while she was drunk or missing to all come together properly for drawing her own conclusions because of it. But she does know that ghosts themselves probably can't do something like this without a driver, right? That's maybe not true, though. She thinks of the meeting he said they were due with the elder Addingtons and the small bits of the results she heard and her brows draw together.

Then, after wetting her lips and putting Byron's water glass down for him, she wanders to draw blinds or shade on the doors to the terrace and the windows so there's only dim lighting for a comfortable, no-glare situation. On resettling, Lilith shifts in the seat with her legs drawn up and alongside herself, lap situated next to where he's settled due to couch design, but she doesn't pull him at angle to head rest at the curl of her skirted thighs. Instead, she reaches down and removes his previously loosened tie entirely and starts to play it anxiously into a series of elaborate knottings and un-knottings while seated there looking at him.

"It wasn't my problem before you were hurt. It bothered me because you were involved, yes, but now..." The brunette pauses and drops her lashes to what she's doing with the tie instead of looking at him, her voice dire quiet, "I want to ruin and rampage until I remove the threat. That's my part now. I'm just controlling it and waiting to be pointed somewhere." But some of her control might be slipping given the busywork she's started taking up with her hands now that Byron is laid out and still and she doesn't want to bother him with more leaning, press, and fawning while he's working on being comfortable.

"I'll kill whoever or whatever tries to rip you from me."

It's such a soft admittance. And it's so, so, so deadly like a fine silver blade edge.

Lilith doesn't display the obsession that lives inside them both the same way that Byron does. But when she does, it's incredibly and shamelessly dark and deceptively delicate, just like right now.

Byron has been into the Veil a few times already, running into fantastical creatures with each visit, like the Veil was some Harry Potter world. The things he'd ran into made the the place feel like a children's story book. Perhaps, it's better that way.

With the curtains closed, though to be honest, there's a remote somewhere that would have done so automatically, Byron wears an appreciative grin, his eyes staring up at Lilith when she comes back to join him. A hand lifts to settle it down at the woman's knee, idly drawing patterns there with fingertips, though he'll eventually give it an affectionate squeeze.

"Now you're sounding just like de la Vega." This is almost said as a warning. "Except I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a shit about what happens to me, which is why he's willing to use me to help him take this risk." He goes on to say, "I told him not to do anything rash and I'm telling you the same thing. We don't know who did this or why. But.." There's this shake of his head, not looking the bit amused, "If this isn't attached to Gohl in any way, then I've got no other leads to what could've happened."

"... I'll wait and I won't dig on my own to find where to point myself or take the risk blindly. But you know... I don't sound like anyone but you when I say that. Even when you don't say it at all. Imagine if you had walked into me crushed and broken. You'd want to ruin the world too." Lilith tells Byron quietly with a bit of a side-eye when he's mentioning the Captain and whatever inclinations the man apparently has spoken on having. She continues to play with the tie in her lap before finally relenting when it's unknotted to smooth it out over a leg. Then she reaches to put her hand atop the back of his resting at her knee, the pad of her thumb making back and forth of brush along the lower knuckles with angled turn of restive weight and position.

"I can't imagine what else it could possibly be given the involvement and trend. What is it that the Captain has in mind you're cautioning, exactly?" Lilith's hair is partially pitched over her eyes and part of her face like a bit of a soft curtain while she's looking down on Byron from adjacent cushion. And looking at her like that, even with the eye makeup semi-smuged to edge up her eyes and gaze unwittingly, it may be downright impossible to imagine her, sitting there in her little light halter dress with her narrow frame and blossom of feminine curves to soften her to almost delicate form of womanhood as a whole damn monster or person assassin.

Honestly, anyone with arm muscles could flick her over if they got close enough and she certainly can't stop bullets or air crushes or lashes. In most cases anyway. But damned if she didn't mean exactly what she said moments before. Because of that, though, she takes care not to sound over-curious or intent on de la Vega's own opinions or planning. But really... it might be kind of up in the air as to whether she's asking to get an idea to lead her own charge or for the sake of curiosity and understanding. Because there's something about her eyes that hones in a little sharply despite her demeanor.

It just had to be Gohl. That's all Byron can think of right now even if his mind tries to search for other possibilities. With his tie not only loosened but removed, one of his hands move to undo the top few buttons on his dress shirt, starting at his collar. There was a morbid curiosity within him. He'd felt his chest when those bones were broken, he felt their odd positioning beneath his skin. Now that his bones were restructured, one probing hand gently presses down against his chest to remind himself of Lilith's handiwork.

When the situation is tossed back into his face, bringing up what would happen if it were he who came across her instead, his eyes just stare up at the ceiling. They aren't blank, but they are near expressionless, if they didn't have that glint of pondering within their dark depths. If he'd happened upon her, he wouldn't have been able to help her in any way; not the way she's able to do with him. That realization doesn't change his expression openly, but it does make him think on just how different their capabilities are when it comes to usefulness in a given situation. And here he was, not even completely grasping the full capabilities of his own powers.

"I would." It's a short answer and nothing that he wants to delve into now. Things would've turned out so much differently if the tables were turned.

The topic returning to Ruiz, he still hasn't really blinked, those eyes looking almost distant as if he's playing through the entire scenario in his mind but with their roles reversed. Perhaps, that's why he'll openly state what he knows that he shouldn't, "I have a feeling, though neither of us are willing to say, that de la Vega wants to take matters into his own hands and nip this baby in the bud before Gohl claims his next victim." Which possibly could've been him if this was Gohl's work. But he doesn't think on that, "That could mean forcing Margaret Addington to hurry and commit her brother in the Facility or possibly taking Thomas Addington out himself," A pause, "That's what we often leave unsaid, but I know that the option is on the table. I have no idea what Addington can do. His powers are not like mine, so unlike with others of similar abilities, I can't tell just how powerful he is... compared to me."

"However, he must have powers similar to yours, if Gohl had used him to tear into all of his victims. Clayton aside," His voice raises when he says this, finally blinking, his head turning to regard Lilith once more, "Gohl's ghost is the one who slit Clayton's throat. Not Thomas Addington. But who else has your powers? Any one of them could have done this to me."

"Mm, there's very few that match... what's inside me, though some..." Lilith can see unlike Byron can too, to certain degrees, while looking at others with the powers that really stand out, especially, but she doesn't really realize that while explaining. Nor does she stop to consider or think about it because these things get perceived and enacted in so many different ways. What she's good at and what she's capable of aren't really mutual to what she does or comfortably does well, like plant manipulation, for instance. And while others don't have anxiety about healing like she does, she's very strongly inclined toward destruction, which shifts a mindset, and the inclination manifests in more ways than either of them probably stop to consider.

"I could tell how he compares with raw potential and inclination, to degrees. And I'm sure there's plenty of people I haven't seen or don't know. However, there's no motivation on others' part, really, or known ties you can think of, I imagine. It'd be one thing if you were out pissing others off about other affairs not-related to the bones and this ghost and Addington murder possession, but you don't seem to have anything in mind, so there probably isn't anything."

Lilith notes the part about the Captain's potential opinion and idea about removing the rogue game piece from the table before the next move can be made. Her eyes drop to her hand at the back of his and she just promised not to seek things out on her own and take a blind risk. But that's not what it is anymore in light of this new information, is it? That said, they could be wrong about what makes the lynchpin driver and victim motivations when it comes to Byron's attack and she knows that.

She may be a bit ruthless when it comes to him, but murder is pretty hardcore and permanent, so naturally, there's just enough of her that isn't a sociopath back behind the rage and need to keep him safe. And it works to keep her from trying to do something about it today. But she suddenly wants to talk to this particular cop if she can swing it. She doesn't say that, of course, she just sits looking at their hands on her skirted knee.

"I don't know what to do to hurt a ghost, though, admittedly. But... something hurt Melissa enough to take her away from Carver. So even though we can't ask, we can assume it's done somehow, I think. Just maybe not the ouija board way it sounds like they went about things. I blame the high goth concentration in town giving people Hot Topic ideas there. Now if it had been, say, a binding instead of a seance, that sounds more... legitimate or something. I don't know. It's not like I have ideas, I shouldn't shit on others." She ends with a soft sigh and a lean of kiss at the bridge of Byron's nose, hair tickling a little in his face to play back and forth with an attempt to lighten the moment a little.

Byron can basically see all of the other mentalists around them, gauging their abilities compared to his own and knowing when not to pick a fight with what he sees. This is possibly why he wants nothing to do with Margaret Addington, feeling out of his own depth when compared to her, if primarily due to the light that surrounds her. He gets a similar vibe from her the way he does with Alexander or even Tobin. With that thought crossing his mind, he immediately attempts to switch over to something else to occupy him. Not liking where his own thoughts are going.

"You don't think that I do any of that already?" Byron asks with a quirk of his brow and a tilt of his head. He says this in all seriousness despite it being spoken in jest in regards to this idea that he hasn't been pissing the town off as it were.

Taking in another deep breath, feeling that air fill his lungs without discomfort of pressure, the man brings up what he does know of Alexander's attempt, "Clayton was trying to read Gohl the way I read people. We wanted to know if that was even possible," A pause, "And he did get something out of it, fragments of the ghost's mind. Things like the fact that he doesn't like being imprisoned which is what the box that he was originally in doing to him. Keeping him within it until someone set those bones free. Then there was something about them not being the right three to deal with Gohl. But the correct Three is still a mysterious to us and as I don't even know where to begin looking for three individuals whose task this should be, I have a feeling that if we did go that route, it would take far longer than we'd like and more people will die." There's emphasis there when he says it. "Which is why de la Vega wanted to end this now, but even he knows that he out of his league when it comes to the Addingtons. That's why he recruited my help. To find others to help him." Here, he has to laugh, "Izzy practically chewed me out when I'd brought it and she said that Clayton would never go for it. I don't expect many would."

The soft kiss has his closing his eyes once more, feeling its gentle touch at the bridge of his nose before he lifts his chin further to try and meet her lips with his. He's gone through a lot in one morning. His body was exhausted as was his mind, but this? All of this felt nice.

"You are kind of an ass that looks good in a suit, sometimes people find that irritating." Lilith makes quiet quip to Byron and while leaned there tickling his face with her hair she smells like her shampoo, soap and water lilies and the softly scented sweetness of lotion she puts on after, no real perfume. "But if they were trying to do that, maybe they just had too many mindbangers in the Three and need some push and pow mixed in of matching caliber. That or it's some kind of blood relation deal for..."

She stops talking. She doesn't comment on what she would or wouldn't buy into with de la Vega. She doesn't have anything else to say suddenly because she's wanted this thing ever since Byron took his first solid breath again when she gave him the space to do so once more and pulled his bones from pressured wrong broken angles at his lungs. The moment she felt the power of it again, it's what she wanted and has been sitting on, walking the little boundary lines she's allowed instead to keep moments from changing everything too much. But those things add up and stack and make more want.

It tried to kill him. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Lilith didn't do it this time. He did. That makes it okay, right? It doesn't even matter at all. The moment his lips are shifting to hers, her breath catches and she exhales it with release into his mouth when lips mesh, hot and fluttering with shake of restraint release before she feeds right into it with soft press and part. But she's careful not to amp too much and let loose with all the real fire of relief inside her because... anything they start, they definitely aren't finishing right now, for better or worse. So instead she just relishes it, paced and drinking him in with small slip of tongue before breathing again. Then she's pressing on a more firm and gracious piece of heat before nuzzling the tips of their nose.

Somewhere between dead serious and playful, she murmurs close, "Mine. You don't get to be dead."

"Clayton is blood related to Gohl." Byron reveals, not sure whether Lilith knew of that or whether he'd mentioned it before. "He's also related to the Baxters as is Isabella." A pause, "Why he's killing Baxters when it's the Addingtons that put him away is beyond me, but he's killed two as it is. Nearly took out Clayton too."

But why Byron? That still bothers him, this thought in his mind wondering why he was targeted? But why not? He was snooping with the rest of them. Just like Faust who ended up dead. Her brother was murdered as well. Innocent bystander?

Once they begin to share in this gentle intimacy, one which brings about just as much pain within him as it does warmth, it's enough to take his mind away from those thoughts. It's a quiet and subtle passion, keeping his movements to a minimum, though Lilith helps with that when she leans in close to keep him from straining his neck, shoulders and chest. It started with Alexander's blood soaking Isabella's clothing at the hospital, to the dream which they shared. Now this moment. He's savoring it all, she can feel his newly found breath upon her lips, before his chest rises to breathe in her kiss.

Exhaustion begins to settle in, feeling the comfort that Lilith brings by just being there. Would he still be laying on the floor right now if she hadn't shown up? He had a few more phone calls to make. Needed to alert Vivian, but the weariness takes over that he'll eventually drift off to sleep, leaving everything scheduled for what should've been a busy Saturday on hold.

Lilith, for her part curls up on her side to stay awake and think after that unexpected (maybe not that surprising) kiss, but there's really little better way to remind either of them that he's alive when he could very much be otherwise. She smothers a little smile while lying there, suddenly remembering with the panic of the dream gone where that alleyway led in memory when the pair of them disappeared down it to loiter before the storm blew in fifteen minutes later on their little groping, curious, and kissing teenage selves. They ran home with the rain cooling their hot skin back down to something tolerable.

Lilith sighs to herself once Byron is asleep, in full, though and she looks at the door and remembers there's probably going to be some cold rain cooling this moment too. She's not leaving him alone, so that means waiting until Vivian gets home.

Luckily, Isabella shows up to distract her from the residual chill of dread. And when the other person staying in the penthouse gets home, there's a brief explanation of him needing rest for his body due to an incident and a bolt out of the door with excuse of somewhere to be. He can explain the details when he wakes up. She doesn't trust herself to watch someone else taking shift to care for him after this strain and with all the fury still kicking around inside her as a result of the attack.

People do accidentally get hurt around her here and there, afterall. Sometimes it's just the better path to be a little evasive to rude or weird levels. It's whatever. Better than her setting someone on fire because she's upset.