2019-09-12 - Seal'd and Delivered (to the ER)

Lilith is pissy during the ambulance ride, but she can't do much about it. She barely has the breath to complain, but oh, how she complains anyway, limbs occasionally jerking away from needles and other things trying to go into her. It's probably a good thing she is crushed and clawed out of throwing a complete tantrum, but she's still being a difficult patient. Then they try to drug her, of course, which sends her into whines and more complaint, even though she could use the drugs with the way she hurts, rationally she wants them, irrationally, she doesn't want to go to the hospital, she wants to go home.

"Please... please someone will watch me, I don't... no, I'm okay, I want to go home, I don't want... stoppit no! I wanna go home, I want Byron, I don't... want.. this!"

Lilith can't heal herself. Unfortunately, she's very much in a way where she has to just take it, and eventually the pain medicine woozes her out of the fight before the short trip is made to the hospital nearby. Ironically, it's her own ribs that are cracked and broken now, but only three of them, the rest of what's on her is some nasty claw gashing along her side and stomach and dragged across the top of a thigh. Considering there's not a lot that can be done for ribs, her processing time in the ER largely consists of cleanup and stitching of gashes and X-Rays, no real necessary trip to the OR, for now. Eventually, she's moved to a room.

It's frustrating for Byron to realize just how little he can do when it's Lilith who gets hurt. He plays back the moment at the beach over and over in his mind. He should've done something earlier to prevent it from happening. Dressed in more casual attire for a walk along the shore, he has on a gray and green flannel buttoned down with both of his sleeves rolled up past his biceps, a pair of comfortable jeans and combat boots on his feet. Theirs grains of sand in his hair and on his outfit, but he'd dusted most of those out by now. During her stay in the OR, he sat there in the lobby waiting impatiently for any news. He'd check his phone for messages, dismissing most of them. Though there is one message that he gets the time to send out on his own.

Now he's told that she's been moved to her very own room and that's where he's headed for, sending another text to Erin to inform her of this new development.

When he gets there, he immediately proceeds to her bedside, settling down in the chair beside it. The first thing that he looks at is her sleeping face, studying her expression, before he allows his gaze to travel down the rest of her and make note of her bandaging and the wounds she must have endured.

Oddly, the phone in the room starts to ring not long after Byron is settled in to watch Lilith sleeping off the rest of the sedation the pain medication dosage and anxiety drug push made as a blessed cocktail. She's no fight anymore, limp and laid out there in the gown with bandaging accessories at her torso and upper thigh beneath the fabric. She doesn't respond to the noise of the ring, exactly, but she does make a small murmur and turn some as it continues to ring, as if she's somewhere in that haze before cusp of waking.

Who knows she's here other than Byron or now Erin? Odd. Do nurses use the phone to call visitors in the room for insurance updates?

It had taken a single text from Byron letting her know Lilith had been hurt and Erin had said she was in the way. The drive was torture, she knew the way so easily. The hospital was at Addington Park. She knew this area like the back of her hand. She'd just been at home relaxing and hadn't take the time to change out of her fuzzy pajama pants with bomb pops all over them and the matching shirt that says I'm the Bomb across the front of it.

What she had done was take the time to put on a pair of shoes. They are slip ons, something she used to wear to the pool at the apartments. They are worn with a pair of blue and red fuzzy socks. This is Erin in her comfy clothes in the privacy of her own home.

Her shoes don't really make much sound but they sort of slow her down. There's a brief pondering when she considers removing them and entering the room all Risky Business style, but it doesn't slow her enough to take the time out to stop and remove them.

She knocks briefly before entering without waiting. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, but she doesn't seem to care. She looks towards the bed first before finding Byron. "How is she? How can I help?" Closing the door, she steps closer to the bed and Byron. "And how are you?" Noting the worry. The phone startles her and she glances between it and Byron.

Expecting a nurse to step in through that door when it swings open, Byron is relieved to find that it's Erin. Extending a hand in her direction as a gesture of greeting, he murmurs, "Thanks for coming. She was brought here from the OR a short while ago, so she's still resting." A pause, "I was hoping that you could help. I know that I can't. Not the way she needs me to." He starts to explain, "We were pulled into a dream with several others on the beach and this elephant seal practically mauled her. It was really bad, but one of the EMTs on hand--" He would continue but then the phone rings, something which stops him mid-sentence, attention drawn to it.

It's so unexpected that he doesn't pick it up on the first ring, by the time he reaches over and grabs the receiver, the third ring is cut short. Holding it up to his ear, he'll ask, "Hello?"

It's a brief gesture but Erin lifts the chart at the end of the bed to check it over so she can see exactly what's wrong. There's a wince and she replaces it back where it was. At least she knew the medical issues before hand since she'd been studying. College courses were paying off! There's a look of concern passed over to Byron. "It is really bad." As honest as Lilith was about it when it was Erin in the bed.

Unlike Lilith, Erin didn't need someone else around, this was the part she'd practiced on, not the destruction from the apartment, but the healing. She had her focus and she recognized the internal organs and how the interior of the body worked from her schooling.

"Will she allow me to help?" Erin falls silent when the phone is answered, not wanting to interrupt.

Lilith is still out as Erin arrives, but her head has tossed on the pillows and one of her hands is twitching with a little bit of distress or grabbing while in slumber, as if she's trying to act out whatever's happening in her unconscious mind. She makes a tiny noise of whine in her throat while drug hazed and murmurs with no real witting sense or context to help with what it is she's seeing with eyes closed, "... slip-ping, I can't... keep..." The sheeting shifts some as her good leg moves with reflex slowmotion worm and kick underneath, then she stills again, though her fingertips are still twitching.

Byron hears a male's smooth and polished voice at the other end of the phone with sheer affability and politeness that's appropriately subdued for the matter of hospital calls. There's the barest touch of a transatlantic accent, like someone grew up with a British parent. Or money and country clubs. Or both.

"Good evening. I'm calling to inquire on the status of Lilith Winslow. Is she awake?"

Byron is disgusted in himself, because he knew that he could've done something to prevent this from happening. He didn't get a chance to look through Lilith's folder, but he's glad that Erin's taking a look at the information now, even though what she has to report doesn't sound all that promising. The phone is already to his ear when Lilith begins to speak, forcing him to cover the receiver with a hand and lower it from his ear, "It's okay, Lil. We're here with you now." His words come out soft and hopefully soothing.

When the phone is returned to his ear, he's able to catch most of what was said, though not hearing a name or purpose of the call, he's afraid that he may have missed part of the conversation, "I'm sorry, but who is this?"

"Oh God is she still in the dream Byron?" The question blurted out. Was Lilith still stuck in the same dream they'd been in together earlier? Slipping. That was alarming to Erin, slipping what? Away? The phone call is forgotten and the permission is forgotten. "Sue me."

The words are decisive and Erin centers herself, focusing much like Lilith had taught her the day before. Not coming from anger so much but compassion. That soft glow like she'd seen in Lilith the prior day, but not the heat of fire. Compassion, concern, caring. She doesn't allow herself to be impatient, she just keeps focusing and concentrating.

Lilith seems to still some with the soothing assurance of Byron's voice, and maybe something about that combined with Erin's presence bedside and the way she starts to focus for exertion of ability nearby, it rouses the brunette. Well. Kind of. Her eyes slit open and she looks right at the bomb pop on the other woman's jammie shirt for a long long long hazy moment. Then she declares: "I wanna know what rainbows taste like. Magic ones."

Okay, she's high. That's cute in the middle of a whole lot of dire, at least. The rainbow comment seems to skip to the next thought, "Byron bought me... a whole ice cream truck one time." Probably an exaggeration. Maybe. It wasn't beyond him to grand gesture in those pre-teen years to cover up the idea he was stocking her freezer or fridge. Maybe it never happened, though. He's rich now, maybe she dreamed of that, a whole truck to ride around in with the ice cream music going.

Who knows what she's talking about, but she seems damned proud and pleased about it.

On the other end of the phone, things are less sweet. The man's voice seems to recognize something about the authority that's inherent in Byron's voice sometimes and there's a pause at the other end of the line. Then he speaks with the same smooth and easy air to reply.

"This is Grant Turner speaking. Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Mister Thorne this evening?"

Hearing Erin's question, Byron looks down at Lilith, a puzzled expression on his face, especially when she drugged patient starts to babble about such random things. None of them seems to have anything to do with the beach or aquatic creatures of any sort, so while he's not completely certain, his gaze seeks out Erin and he gives her a shake of the head, mouthing 'I don't think so.' This random caller on the line is quite the annoyance. First of all, they were calling at a time when Lilith was still deep in recovery mode, so if he hadn't picked it up in time, it might have startled her awake or, he suppose, woke her up even more than she is now. She's still groggy though.

He'll allow this small smile to form on his lips when told about this ice cream truck investment that he allegedly made, but that's when he hears one particular name mentioned on the line. The smile doesn't go away completely, even if the edges fade just a touch. Keeping to a normal conversational tone now that he knows who he's dealing with, while he may turn his back away from both Erin and especially Lilith now, taking the phone as far as he can with him so as to not bother Lilith's resting, he says in a somewhat cool voice, "Ah, Mister Turner. I was wondering when you would make contact." A pause, "Yes, this is Thorne. How may I help you today?"

"Ah, she's mentioned me, has she?" There's a pause at the end of the line again as the phone is held at Byron's ear and carried away from the two women at the bed, "All good things, I hope?" Smooth as butter and twice as shameless.

Erin gives Lilith a patient smile that holds a wealth of indulgence. "We'll make sure you wake up with Skittles Pox once you're feeling better." The commercial idea taking hold and she looks to Byron with a conspiratorial smile.

The phone call she knows nothing about, but she cannot help but over hear it even if she isn't trying. "An ice cream truck? Talk about knowing the way to a woman's heart. I mean what would you do for a Klondike bar?" Softly laughing, Erin tries to give them some privacy but it's difficult in the smaller confines. "Lilith, I'm going to try and reverse your wounds. I don't do it exactly the same way, but I've had more practice healing than destroying. So when I feel ready, if it's okay with you, I'll do it."

It's nice that Lilith doesn't have a roommate to share this space with, because Byron is keeping his distance as far as possible from the bed, not wanting to tip off both parties (Lilith or Turner) about the other's situation. "I'd say it was a mixed bag. But from what I've seen, a mostly impressive performance on your part. Such raw emotion." There's a thoughtful pause here, where he add before the other can respond, "If you'd like, I'll let her know that you called."

"Okay. Hurts. I'm like... in my head right now, I'm thinking... do you know that Phantogram song, goes like..." Lilith starts to make the noise of interlude with hum and drag that goes with the song Black Out Days, and when she starts to kind of sing, it's more like a woozy, rhythmic recitation of breathlessness, as her ribs are currently in a state of pain and the drugs are giving her false confidence as to how much breath she should be wasting, "Fireworks exploding in my hands... if I could paint the sky... would all the stars be shining bloody red?"

Then Lilith slants her lips with sudden smile that's both drugged and self-deprecative, "Yep. Yep. Would. S'my hands. I make explosions. Fireworks. Erin? Can I... have a popsicle?" Wow, they really dosed her for fighting the EMTs earlier, probably someone glimmer-savvy heard a thing or two about how she might be a liability when agitated. There's rumors about the Winslow girl ever since she was admitted after the public showing at the Hanging Bridge.

On the other end of the phone Byron's way, the man's voice loses some of the affability while keeping the veneer of politeness, leaving it a bit sterile and cool in a subtle way, "Would you? I don't think you would. I daresay you're not taking very good care of our girl, now, are you? This is her third hospital visit since returning. What is her condition and what was the incident this time?" Insinuating. Very insinuating. Very, very rich.

With the phone itself still dangling from curled fingers which begin to clutch at it more tightly, Byron keeps to this semi-amused, though mostly polite tone when he speaks. He's respectful, for the most part, even if some of which he says may not be to the other man's liking. This mention of this being Lilith's third hospital visit since her return to Gray Harbor draws a brief moment of silence from Byron, only now turning with the receiver still to his ear to check on how Erin and especially Lilith are doing. Watching the pair for a time, he turns away from them to continue with the conversation once more, "You may be right there, Turner but she's much happier here than she ever was with you. That's quite telling." To the inquiry asking for medical details and that sort, he breathes out, "You should know better than to ask that. It's, unfortunately, confidential, I'm afraid."

"I can't say that I do but I will make sure that I listen to it soon so I'll know." Erin tries to soothe her, to try and get her to breathe regular, not the humming. Focused now though, she takes a deep breath, smoothing a hand over Liliths abdomen, closing her eyes and just feeling before putting herself there in her mind. "Byron will make sure you have a popsicle. Or I can get you an ice cream truck." The words are murmured softly.

Erin gets a text and checks it. "Captain de la Vega says he knows another healer who may be able to help if it's needed."

"Very confidential, I'm sure. I understand, completely, I do." There's a tut of the tongue on the other end of the phone, voice still conversational, though... it starts to take a turn toward lower pitch the more the man on the call goes on, "She's rather infuriating sometimes, isn't she? She has no real concept of how fragile her little body is. Admirable, really. But Mister Thorne?" There's only a bare pause for effect, "I would hate to find out you're the reason for all these injuries and accidents... I believe I've given you enough leeway. Gentleman's agreement?"

Lilith shifts on the bed under Erin's attention, and while the efforts perhaps don't quite work on as deep of a level as needed for these kinds of injuries on this particular occasion, there's something on the surface level that just feels good about it, it seems. That or drugs. Or both! Either way, the brunette, while not struck with relief, she looks almost beatific despite laying there somewhat pale while in such serious recovery state. Her eyes light up a bit and she says to Erin, like it was just forever ago.

"Remember when... you blew up my chair like pew? This feels nice. You're pretty. I hear Byron talking, that's good, I like hearing him talking. Did you know..." She has to pause for breath and the rambling kind of thins out with talk-fatigue, "That it's my favorite noise to fall asleep to? 'cept I have to be on the chest for it, or it's annoying to fall asleep to. But when I'm on the chest for it, it makes a rumble purr-rumble brrr rumble." A pause, breathlessly clarifying after, "Kind of."

While the phone call itself isn't overly infuriating, Byron's posture remains rigid during the entire conversation. Perhaps this helps him to keep his temper down or to remain professional, then again, there very well could be an underlying tension that contracts each of his muscles, something which may be hinted in the way that he now grips the receiver. It's a minor thing. "I'll have to agree with you there." He says with a quiet laughter when reminded of how stubborn and reckless Lilith can be. Why, just today she refused to heed his warning. How about that? Then the kicker comes out and that semi-grin returns to his lips, "It's funny that you should say that, Turner. But Gentleman's agreement." This is followed by what could be considered rude, "One moment please."

The receiver is pressed against his chest, the conversation likely muffled now, with his eyes to Erin, "Did he tell you who?" A pause, "Erin, I know you can do this, but I won't turn down any outside help if you trust them."

Returning to the conversation, he says in an apologetic tone, "I'm sorry about. Things are a little hectic here." Pause, "If you wish I can keep you updated on her condition." This is more or less a lie, but he's ready to hang up the phone. "Otherwise, as I'd said earlier, I'll inform Lilith that you called."

"Of course, of course." Grant Turner tells Byron from the other end of the phone, sounding not so convinced on either front of the agreement or the updating, or even the informing. Mostly he just sounds a bit empty and chilled when he says it. Then he recovers, "Charmed to see she's picked a polite one. But then, manners are acquired, not innate. Don't mean a thing at the end of the day, do they? Do take better care of her. Perhaps I'll visit the pair of you when I'm on the Seattle circuit of business. Kiss the pretty girl for me." Then he hangs up.

"I don't know, I don't trust myself so much. I thought I could." Erin takes a few steps back and gets her phone to send out a text. "I will ask him who."

Once the texts are sent, one asking who and the other saying they were definitely interested, she gives her attention back to Lilith. "I've never done anything like that. When I exploded your chair. I hope the mess wasn't too hard to clean up."

"Not hard. Beautiful. Do you know what it's like to put everything back together again from shatters? Ahhhh." Lilith actually gets a little shiver there for a moment and breathes out something like a noise of delight at Erin. Her lashes drift down over her eyes and she seems to be taking a moment to imagine things coming together bit by bit, so many puzzle pieces in tiny arrays that meet on different levels, inside and outside. Then her sore body makes a shift at the good leg again under the sheets before her eyes open and she looks hazily the other woman's way, "S'like... the most lovely dance. And sometimes when you don't have all the pieces, you just tell the pieces to remember and reach for each other to fill the gap. They know how they're supposed to be when they have each other, see."

"Did it feel good when you made everything... fly apart?" She might be getting a little more lucid the more she talks, but it's doing the double edge thing of winding her more and more, the pain management tricking her into thinking she's capable of going on.

By now Byron's already turned fully around, so even though he's still conversing with the real estate tycoon, he's being very attentive to the other two with whom he shares the room with. "All that I can off you is that I'll try." His response about taking better care of Lilith, which is then followed up with, "Ah, excellent. I'll be looking forward to your visit." Then there is silence from the other line and the receiver is casually set back atop the phone which he returns to the nightstand.

"Don't worry about it, Erin. You're still coming into your own. That's something I'm trying to do as well with my own abilities if I must be truthful." He'll eagerly await Ruiz's response, but he seems pleased to see just how animated Lilith is right now. So much that he even pulls out his camera, as a joke, to record this very moment the way some other jerks do when they post it on Youtube. But everyone enjoys watching that person's sister or even pet after they'd awoken all groggy or numb. "How are you feeling, Lilypad?" Yes, it's a reminder that he's here.

Amazed at that, Erin wonders aloud. "Tell it to remember? Like your body? I could just tell it to remember also?" She does know how it fits together but each little rip and tear was a big deal, not every piece matched up with gouges of it missing. Her phone goes off again, she gets the name and texts back. "I told him to bring her. It's Bennie."

Wearing a whimsical smile, she nods. "It did feel good making it fly apart. I was so angry. I don't ever remember being so angry. Or even allowing myself to feel that way."

"Yeah. Sometimes I do it bad, though, like woop! Accident. That's bad. I broke a whole toe on accident! From far, far, far away! You got like... angel powers, I think, they have softer edges, except... you still gotta blow, baby, you still gotta blow." Then it kicks in for Lilith that Erin said the name Bennie about the same time Byron gets bedside with that camera recording to catch her singing a sudden bar of B-B-Bennie and the Jets because it's apparently necessary. But she's so charmed to see him with her drug-hazed blue-eyed gaze lighting up, she doesn't even register why he's holding his phone out right now. She just sees him now, her eyes shifting from Erin as he returns from the phone call.

Lilith lifts one of her hands from the bed and kind of moves a fingertip around in the air in front of Byron's face, as if she can't decide where she wants to affectionately touch or boop. In the end, her arm gets tired and the fingertip chooses on its own, dragging down with subtle catch on his bottom lip while falling away to rest again, "Hello, sir. I missed your bristleface. When's the last time you didn't have a bristleface? It kind of feels like a toothbrush. But the soft kind."

"Bennie?" Byron repeats the name, seeming content enough to learn that. It's this sudden drunken singing that Lilith starts up that brings out this amused grin, his phone recording the entire moment. He keeps it at a sensible distance, you didn't need close up shots of people when they were completely out of it unless they wanted to mortify them. Here, he was going more for slight embarrassment, probably followed by a punch to his chest or shoulder. He can take it. "That's some singing voice you've got there."

"I think Bennie should be fine, she is an EMT after all." He is curious on whether she had similar abilities as the healers in this room now. Lowering himself down beside the hospital bed wearing this wide grin, Byron asks, the phone still in hand, "Is that right? Like a toothbrush? I prefer the medium ones myself."

"I like the soft ones best. Especially when it comes to beards and facial hair, though sometimes medium feels nice." Erin's voice is more wistful at that confession but she forgets all about it when Lilith starts singing, laughing along with Byron, watching as he records it. "And one day in the future, your offspring get to watch that video. We will have to make sure that Lilith gets one of her own on you too, Byron. When you're least expecting it."

Abruptly, Lilith starts to giggle at Byron saying he likes them medium, then she starts to giggle more at Erin saying medium feels nice because she's holding in one hell of a 'that's what she said' that suddenly comes out in a tumble, tailed by a sigh to look at the ceiling with a squint. Then she looks back up between Byron and the other woman (and the camera) to say, "We haven't even done it yet to make babies. Byron's like. An upstanding gentleman and stuff." She pauses, "Most of the time."

Then suddenly she looks at the phone suspiciously, "Are you taking a picture of me in this gown? Can I flash you? Wait, don't flash me, it'll be... bright." She pauses to breathe with a huge breath that's slow and deep before she winces and exhales with a 'wow'. Then she certainly has enough breath to say the last part, "Fuck. Seals."

"Are we still talking about facial hair?" Byron asks, eyes lifted to look on Erin now, "I was actually talking tootbrushes." He says with a bright smile. But they all may have been as well. A hand reaches out to stroke Lilith's hair, brushing it away from her face in a gentle motion, his hand pausing at something said, "God, Lilith." He's about to chide her with a 'Don't tell her that', he even wear the expression to go with that statement, but instead he comes out to laugh about it all. "Most of the time, indeed." He parrots in a lower tone. "You are so out of it." These words are spoken in fondness.

Attention drawn back to Erin, he'll repeat what he's said before, "Erin, again, thank you for coming here. Your visit seemed to really cheer her up." With his phone still on, he gets an alert about a new Friendzone post. "The Fried Fish Shack is having a special on crab cakes. I might advise you against eating them, but... I'm sure there fine."

"Thank you." Lilith seems to take that 'out of it' comment as a compliment for some reason and it looks like it makes her feel pretty, the way she bats her lashes a couple of exaggerated and pointed times. But it may have been the stroking hand at her hair kind of confusing it that way with the tone of his voice. And she doesn't even look sorry about blurting to Erin about a lack of sex life (as yet according to her) where they're concerned, she just pretends like it didn't happen with her showing after. Sighing some, she tilts her head into his hand's motion once she's done visibly preening.

With her eyes tilting to survey Erin again, she finally gets the wits to really say something solid and meaningful, even though there was plenty of sentiment in everything she's said so far, one way or another. This almost sounds lucid it's so gracious, "You're nice. Thank you." Then she mucks it up, "I was worried you were a rich stuckup crazyass. Nice car, though." Tell it like it is, Lilith. It's kind of a compliment?

Coming back from wherever she had drifted to, Erin smiles between them, suddenly aware she was in her pajamas. A sheepish look is given and she holds her phone as she back towards the door. "I wish I could have done more, but I should be going. Make sure you get her a popsicle!" Hesitating at the door, she laughs, "Up until a little while ago, that's exactly what I was. Life punched me in the face and woke me up."

Byron will pull himself up to stand as a show of respect when Erin lets them know that she'll be heading out. "I'll let you know how Lilith's feeling. We'll be expecting Bennie's arrival." This last part is said to both Erin, as she leaves, and Lilith. The phone shut off and slipped back into his pockets, he settles down at the edge of Lilith's bed, his feet placed firmly on the floor. "Who else is there to contact." He can't tell how much Erin helped with, but he knows that every little bit counted. Unless she messed up, which doesn't seem to be the case. Though with this whole Popsicle ordeal, he asks, "Want me to pick one up for you right now? A popsicle actually sounds damn good right now."

"Yeah. Byron... y'know why red's my favorite still?" Lilith doesn't really wait for Byron to try and figure it out, because while he's sitting there, she's looking at him kind of funny once the other woman to focus on is gone from the room. Then she smiles and nestles down more against the bedding with a little too much natural motion that makes her wince instead of smile. Then the expression eases off and her halt of tension with reflex starts to melt back into rest with the weight of the drugs, hair re-mussing against the pillows, "Because the fourth time you kissed me you had one of those little plastic tube ice pops in red and mine was green. And when I kissed you, it made it like a cherry limeade, which was so much better than green."

There's this fond look that Byron gives Lilith when she mentions the tube ice pop incident. At first there was some uncertainty as to whether she was babbling on under the influence of her pain killers again, but in truth, he remembers the incident. Or a similar incident. "I always used to forget that red popsicles made it look like I was wearing lipstick." He has to laugh a little at himself there. "Blue? Green? Anything would've been better." Feeling the shift on the bed with Lilith reclining back and making herself comfortable, he'll offer a hand to help, especially towards the end, where he's spreading the blanket evenly over her, knowing just how cold the hospital can get. "Mmm, cherry limeade. Looks like I'll be on the hunt for red and green popsicles." Does he mean to re-enact that moment? It's hard to say. Leaning in close to press his lips against her forehead, he then gathers himself up to stand. "I'll try not to take too long. After the popsicle though? You get some sleep, alright?"

"Alright. I'm tired. But I want a popsicle. And the cherry limeade kisses." Lilith tells Byron after she turns up a lopsided and lazing smile of affection at Byron while watching his face respond to the tidbit. Then she tucks one arm up out of the blanket, the other kept in comfort snuggle warmth beneath where Byron has tucked her in. But before it goes to full rest, it reaches to pass over his ear and side of cheek with her palm in loose slide of grazing when he leans in, then gradually away from the kiss at her forehead, "Maybe I'm wrong sometimes and should listen better. But... just sometimes."

Will she make it awake til he gets back with popsicle? Will she get cherry limeade kisses to pass out to?

Whoops. He'll probably be smart and sweet enough to stash them til she wakes up, it's fine. Unless he eats them both like a jerk.