2019-09-17 - Impatient Patient

Byron is out in the hallway on the phone handling some business or affair, or maybe trying to plan an escape route for Lilith, despite what his natural inclinations to leave her attended by staff might be. Because she is being... kind of an asshole (but probably not to him, considering). It was better when she was cute and drugged and in too much pain and general crushed and clawed state to move or complain, at least in some ways. The adverse effect of getting better a few degrees with some outside help is the piss and vinegar it put back into her bones over having to play prisoner.

Yes, prisoner, that's what she's calling it. Prisoner to her body, prisoner to this room, prisoner to this town, prisoner to bullshit annoying nurses poking at her and... it's a good time, really when she's nice and dramatic and pissy. Nevertheless, though, she's agreed to Isabella's texts about visiting that were received earlier because she wants and needs the distraction and... well, maybe some other reasons while she's all lit up and irritable. Really it'd be better if she could just break some things and call it a day, but you can't do that in hospitals, or smoke weed, or do any of the things she wants to do to cope with being semi-crippled by a stupid seal.

Isabella walks in just in time to see her sling a cup of ice into a corner of the room like a jerk while she thinks no one is looking.

When she wants to be, she can be quiet.

So it might be a surprise to the young woman on the bed that she has a visitor, armed with not flowers, but a small white box with a ribbon clasped in one hand, green-and-gold eyes watching the wake of a cup of ice hurled towards the wall in frustration. That isn't to say that Isabella doesn't sympathize; she does, it hadn't been long at all since her last protracted hospital stay and it had taken a significant amount of books and her laptop to prevent her from breaking out - and even then she had to break out anyway in the most ridiculous covert mission imaginable, with Alexander Clayton as an accomplice. If nothing else, her most recent conversation with Byron had given her a hint that she ought to be prepared for overtures of the same. Unlike her usual style, ever casual but straddling the line between fashionable and functional, she has on an Oxford University hoodie, zipped up to hide whatever top is there underneath, and a pair of burgundy red pants that may or may not look like scrubs (and they are, stolen during her hospital break out).

Look, she's an archaeologist, and if there's anything that the movies have told the rest of the world about professional adventurers, is that they'll always steal some manner of uniform as camouflage.

"I've been there," she tells Lilith, moving towards the bed - a clear sign that her survival instincts might be slightly skewed. Just a touch. "How are you doing, Lilith? Byron told me what happened with..." And she makes such a face. "...some kind of Dream-seal?"

There's a duality to the expression on Lilith's fine features when she notices Isabella in the room as a visitor, despite being caught slinging a mess into a corner for some poor staff to clean up later. In fact, she's winding up with a handful of ice from the bucket like she's going to sling more by hand and start making something over in that corner a hit target, but when she notices she's not alone any longer, she decides to eat some of those ice cubes she's holding so she doesn't look like an utter tantrum throwing baby.

She lets the rest of the ice melt in her palm and turn it red and drip on the owl throw blanket put over the hospital bedding like some kind of self-abuse while the pieces melt in her mouth and numb her tongue. And she seems to be considering exactly what to say to Isabella, though she seems momentarily pleased enough to see the woman. Her brows draw a little bit and she looks at the doorway for a beat before lowering her voice to mutter, "Yeah. An elephant seal weighs as much as a car, apparently, under normal circumstances, and has claws besides, so at least I'm a badass in the utterly lamest attack known to man. My dumbass thought... I don't know what I thought. I wasn't thinking. I was just blowing stuff up. This would be more tolerable if I had a legitimate murder attempt. You know how embarrassing it would have been to die to a goddamn French-speaking seal with a sea creature running crew?"

Rant rant rant. Her features do have some color, but there's subtle shadowing under her eyes with the fatigue of playing bodily mend, kind of countered by a flush of tinted chapstick she's keeping on. She has Dog, the stuffed husky, in bed with her, and an oxygen tube she's not wearing down on the bedding too as cheater air for rants like this. She borrows it for a beat because pain still has her habitually breathing shallow. Then she doesn't fuck around with beating around the bush. After eyeing the other woman (while Byron is still out of the room) she asks-- "Why'd you tell Byron something like that about memories? No one should do that, you aren't doing it, are you?"

Those eyes widen when Lilith provides her with details nobody in her life has given her about the incident and she repeats, incredulously, "An elephant seal?! Jesus fucking Christ!" For some reason, she didn't think it was anything as vicious as that, though any Veil creature is guaranteed to be strange in some way - but she is a diver, the ocean is where she makes her livelihood, she knows what they are. And the more she hears about this dream, the crazier and more dangerous it seems. That is without all the other sea life plotting a revolution.

A hand lifts, pressing her hand to the side of her face, silent as she attempts to keep it all straight, and fit it somewhere in a way it makes sense. Oh, sweet summer child, spawn of Academia, it's a futile effort and she knows it, but she is stubborn and she tries.

"I'm glad you're alive," Isabella says, sincerely, though she still looks horrified. "I'm honestly surprised Byron isn't planning a hunting trip. He looked incredibly pissed when he told me about it."

Setting what she had brought Lilith on the table next to her bed, she slowly takes a seat. And at the blunt and straightforward words, her defensive nature rises to the fore. Bands of tension coil over her chest and her jaw takes on a stubborn tilt. The words are there, ready to be unleashed, and as usual, without thinking.

It almost happens.

Almost.

What kills all of it is the way Lilith looks on the bed, her near-violet eyes brimming with frustration. Hurt, nearly killed, were it not for one of Byron's tenants. So close to being erased, without help from any of them and the pieces fall into place, snapping and clicking, tumblers and gauges locking. Her own temper abates and she exhales a breath.

"I wasn't thinking," she tells her, meeting her eyes directly. "I'd say it's almost automatic with me. If someone asks me a question, I do my best to answer it. I'm impulsive, too, just in a different way...I try to think I'm above it, but I think I'm still raw and frustrated also, letting others do the heavy lifting on this because there are just some things I can't do. Ideas are my last bastion, in this entire affair. I've grown accustomed to thinking that if I can't do that, then what good am I?"

She pauses, and lifts a hand to rub the bridge of her nose. "But in a way, the responsibility to filter the bad ones from the good is greater. There's no excuse for it, letting my desperation get in the way. I didn't consider who that might hurt. I'm sorry, Lilith. In thinking too much, I wasn't thinking at all."

"You can't do that. He can't do that. No one should do that. We have no way of knowing who we are when we take pieces out of ourselves to change into holes and lies. It's... the butterfly effect. We can't know what makes us strong, what makes things matter, what makes us who we are. Sometimes the reasons for who we are suck horribly, but it's real and... nothing seems real anymore. Except our pains and our loves. Not just us. Anyone. It's... horrifying to think about." Lilith says to Isabella insistently, and it's clear that yes, it upsets her about Byron, but she's worried Isabella might take a huge leap, or someone like Erin, so soft seeming and vulnerable and tempted...

She works her bottom lip hard between her teeth and takes it down a few notches, though, after she's listened to Isabella and drops her lashes to admit, "Yes. I'm worried and selfish, but he hadn't even had time to... consider what he might sacrifice properly." She pauses to pick up her oxygen and breathe from the tube, this time likely because she's starting to kind of hyperventilate herself with quicktalking and worry, "... then extremes are dangled in front of him when he wants something at a close so badly. At a time when he might leap to see something through. He is the most ambitious man I've ever known. And he carries... a lot he'd probably rather not carry." She doesn't go into details here, but Isabella probably has an idea of why they were so bonded as children at this point-- they had horrible families to the point where it was no family at all. They made each other the thing that was real and right because of the alternatives, in part, and held each other up through it.

"Even outside of this event, if he for some reason thought he could change for the better, if he thought removing pain was an option to give him what he misinterprets as peace or strength in the face of it... it scares me. Not just because I'm part of the pain, not just because I would be carrying the holes and lies that make up whatever he turns into, not just because I'd have to see him change, I--" Lilith breathes out a soft sigh and admits to Isabella, then, "If he ends up thinking it's necessary, I think I've... at least offered him a bittersweet alternative I'd be glad to take the hit for if it means he doesn't change into the unknown."

"We're trying not to die. But what good is living if we piecemeal kill ourselves for it? The things that make us... us? And the ones that remember... they're the ones that pay in the end. No one should." Then she lifts a hand to scrub the heel of her palm at one of her brows, "I was so mad at you for that idea. So mad. Like you were trying to take him from me and I just... got him back in... whatever capacity. I can't have all of him, he belongs to someone else. But I-- I know you didn't mean to do that and you were just thinking of the results for the greater good. But... the path matters too. Intentions pave all kinds of ways to hell." When her hand drops, she relents to reach for the other woman's hand.

No one should do that.

She takes her chastisement with her usual intent attention and focus - not just because it is what she deserves, but because Lilith's points are salient ones. That isn't to say she isn't recoiling - she is, being an unforgivably prideful creature in the best of days, but the things that she says resonates with the other people in her life, also. Not just Byron, but Alexander, too, and Lilith herself. And they germinate, within her somewhere, finding fertile ground in which to grow - the suspicions and reasons why it took this confrontation to make her realize what her suggestion had meant. It isn't as if she didn't know logically what it meant, what the cost would be. After all, didn't she say it during the meeting? Erasing a memory would change someone irrevocably. There is no going back from that.

But there is a difference between knowing, and understanding, and while she has clearly demonstrated the former, perhaps it is the latter that she lacks.

Because...

She feels the empty space within herself, the thing that she still instinctively reaches for with open arms, only to be disappointed time and time again to find nothing waiting for her, as it has in the last eleven years. What wouldn't she give up to have it filled again? Would she sacrifice all that she is now to reclaim what she had lost? She can't answer that question in the end, feeling the weight of those old sins press into her lungs, and some part of her can't help but envy Lilith in how decisive she is, there. Her answer is shouted out, screamed from every pore, bone and line of her: Of course not.

After a moment, she reaches out to close her long, academic's fingers around Lilith's own and gives her a warm, tight squeeze. It would have to be enough, to at least assure the other woman of her solidity, how absolutely sorry she is without words - she was never good at them, not like this - and to hide the tremors that threaten to shake her apart.

"He is the most ambitious man I've ever known." Her agreement there is easy, because it's true. "And I didn't mean to get you so angry." I wasn't always this way, is what she wants to say, but cannot. Instead: "I'm prone to too much action, and very little reflection and I'm stubborn too, so it practically takes an army to veer me away from a particularly devastating mistake. As you know very well now, I'm a font of ideas - good ones, and bad ones. I'm still trying to perfect the filter. I'd like to say that this is all part of some grand plan, that I deliberately surround myself with people who can stand up to me because of that. But I think I honestly just fell into it by accident. You, Ronnie, Alexander..." There's a flicker of a smile, but it fades as those eyes fall on their intertwined fingers. "Alexander said something along those lines, the day Doctor Faust died. I should have remembered it, should have looked at you while I was running my mouth. Should have known better, because I know Byron, too."

After a moment, she finally lifts her eyes, letting them fall on Lilith's face. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt anyone, when I started on this. I knew conflicts were inevitable, especially with a big group. Especially with the supernatural involved, and volatile tempers also - mine especially included. But one of the last things I would ever do is try and take Byron away from you, Lil. I promise. That was...this was on me."

"I just hope... he heard me when I told him exactly how I feel about the idea. And I hope he deep down knows even when he's tempted that the unknown when it comes to his sense of self... it's not for him. That man loves control and... to do that would take all control over who he is and why... and twist it out of hands. He might lose his drive that defines him so much or..." Lilith presses her lips into a flat line, because she knows if it's not something about his father that goes, it's something about her if he gets desperate or driven to follow through with such drastic ideas, at any point.

Then she moves her head into a tiny shake at Isabella, breathing out a soft sigh, "Don't be too sorry. I understand why you said it, it just... god, we don't even know what's real in life around us anymore, do we? We need to be as real as we can be deep down, always. For ourselves." She looks at the other woman and tightens her finger grasp around the tandem hold, lifting the hand to kiss at, "I know you weren't trying to take him or change him, my defenses are... quick when it comes to him. He's the most precious thing I've ever known. I worry every day to obsessive levels I'm going to be ripped from him or pushed away. And maybe I should be, because he made a life. I don't want to be the thing to tear it down with my particular... ugh. He deserves what he built."

She pauses, "I should have just said something instead of getting horribly terrified and mad about it. I let him know right away, but I shouldn't have... held it and let it fester when it came to you. I've had plenty of terrible ideas too, trust me. And I generally meant well with all of them. Didn't make them suck less, though, in the end. It's... it's okay." The captive hands come up so she can flurry some kisses on Isabella's knuckles with promise and a little mood pick up, having all that OUT of her.

"I need out of here. I'll feel better when I break something and put it back together, I think. Is everything... coming together with plans? I feel... useless and out of the loop and worried about it happening any moment while I can't do a thing to help or protect... anyone."

"He did." Isabella is quick to assure her there. "He listened to you. He's going to find another way. And while I would like to say that was all by design also, telling everyone in the room about that in hopes that you'd be able to talk him out of it, that was just a happy accident. I mean, I'd like to think I'm a great planner and organizer, but I'm not a strategic genius or anything. I'm nothing like the con artists you find in the movies, the ones who think about all the angles before executing a plan. I just plan enough." There's a hint of a smile, a lift of her shoulders. "Daddy's fond of saying that no plan survives first contact with the enemy, quoting another military man of course. I think that's just his way of telling me that it's more important to be able to adapt when things go south. So....let's do that. We'll do that."

Silence descends when Lilith lifts her hand, the brush of her lips finding her skin and she is unable to help but feel it - emotion, powerful and intense, ferocious in the way that sleeping dragons suddenly wake. She is not emotive, not in the least; outside of joy and fury, she tends to keep these softer aspects of her buried deep - it leaves her too prideful, in the end, to seek out affection on her own accord, unless someone else initiates. These days, Alexander gives her plenty, always free in his own need to touch her, but this is also unexpected from Lilith, especially at the tail end of various hurts.

Something inside her nearly breaks. Heat stings, traitorous and vile, underneath her lashes. But she is able to take a breath and give her hand another squeeze once it's lowered. If there are tears, they don't fall. She does not cry in the company of others.

"You can get mad if you want, and be as terrified as you want. Probably appropriate, considering the subject of this conversation, but I'm more than happy to take you as you are," she tells her. "Hell, I don't hold back at all when I'm mad." And how. "So to expect that from anyone else would be hugely hypocritical on my part." After a pause, and somewhat awkwardly, she leans in and, if allowed, will purse her lips lightly on Lilith's temple, the lightest brush of her mouth against the strands of her dark hair. "Forgive me?"

The declaration that she needs out of there earns the woman a brilliant smile, unfettered in its mischief - the devil in her, finally, coming out to play in full force. "Well, it just so happens that Byron told me about that, too, so..." She drags her zipper down her hoodie, to show Lilith the scrubs top she wears underneath, Addington Memorial stitched on the breast. "This is definitely not my first rodeo, so once we're done here? I'm going to swipe a wheelchair and put you on it."

After a moment: "As for breaking things..." She glances at the door, and murmurs softly. "Ritual's figured out, we settled on the Three. The Captain's set aside a room in the precinct to do this, but that also means minimizing the party as much as possible. Minerva has to be there, our exorcist. But with her, the three, and the Captain already needing to be on site, I don't know if we can fit in any more...but he wants another healer there, in case things go south. I thought you and August can decide between the two of you who goes. For the both of you, I secured Minerva's ritual plans, like you asked, the protections she intends to put down in the room. We might be resigned into thinking that the best laid plans will probably go awry, but that doesn't mean we can't stack our deck a little. I have them in my pocket."

Her eyes light up, burning emerald and gold. "I'll give them to you once we wheel you out of here."

Lilith tips her head into that brush of kiss at the temples, explaining to Isabella, "I'd rather be mad than go cold and shut down and hide. It means I'm living life the way I should be, this time around. At least the best way I know how. Of course I forgive you. It's not like you're a malicious twat that doesn't care about the ripple effect. Your brain and guts just hadn't gotten there, yet." And when the zipper of the hoodie comes down, she breathes out a sudden huff of laughter that seems to make her wince in brief, but doesn't diminish the noise of humor in it, or the impish spark of warmth that comes into her eyes and laces her facial features.

"Oh man. Yes. Steal me. I just cannot do this anymore. I think even Byron knows what's good for me at this point is not being here, medical care be damned." Her hand gives a little pulse of squeeze before she looks at a bag that the man as brought from her house, "I really hope he packed me a little sundress or something easy to change into, I forgot to tell him what to get me to change into when it came time to get sprung from the big house." Because yes, this is jail for her now that she's witting enough to be bitchy about it the past couple of days.

Then the consideration of a healer comes up and she looks a little uneasy in the eyes, as if she's about to explain something problematic, but... she holds it for the time being, because self-doubt can take a backseat for a while and there's other reasons, as in helping Erin manage through with power limitations. She's far more interested in what's promised as a layout for her to readover and feel updated with, at least, because it is a step to feeling less useless, even if it's just a little bit of input or concern she can give to cover angles. Solidly, she nods a few times, then her lips take with smile some, "I figure... I was going to go to self-defense. Probably still can if we get out of here on time and Byron is down for me to worm him into it. It helps to watch and listen and I obviously need to learn to dodge.'

"Me too." Isabella smirks faintly. "It's not in me to be a robot."

The approval she give her, of stealing her, has her laughing, though she manages to catch herself before the volume rises. There's a glance towards the door, narrowing her eyes faintly. "This, by the way? Probably a bad idea, since you're recovering, but a fun one, so..." She makes weighing gestures with her free hand, and when the bag is pointed out, this is when she returns Lilith's squeeze, extricates her fingers gently and moves so she can deposit her small gift to her in its confines, so they don't forget it - it would be nothing fancy, when the other woman opens it up later. It's a small, colorful doggie sweater for Dog.

Looking over at her, surprise colors her features, pausing by the bed. "I was thinking of going to that class today, actually," she says; then again, the flyers were all over town. "After I saw you, but this is just more incentive to take you with me, then. "It's being held in that boxing gym, owned by...Joe? Joey Kelly. I only met him once, already warned about him by Alexander, but eh, it's a group class. What's the worst that could happen. So before I go out there and grab you a chair, is there anything else you would like me to grab on the way? Candy? A soda? Pudding?"

Perhaps he just finished up with his call or is curious to see if the women have had enough girl time together and that it was safe for him to come in, but the door swings open when Byron peeks to check. It's not surprising to find him in his usual suit and tie, even if he has paid visits to people in hospitals before in casual attire. He's been swamped with calls from tenants, having been forced to meet with a few of them before he was able to wriggle himself out of those, mostly unpleasant, discussions in order to make his way here. That and it does make him look official when he shows up at the hospital dressed business professional.

That's when he catches on to part of the connection, letting the door close behind him as he steps in further. "Take her to Kelly's gym?" Yes, he's heard Lilith say that she wanted out from this hospital for a while now. Did that mean he would actually break her out of here? Probably not. He would demand to sign the release papers so that they can do so in an official capacity. "Has one of the nurse's mentioned anything about my request yet?" There's this narrow-eyed gaze that he gives the women, having doubts that they were given the green light for this, despite his request.

"I mean, I want a joint, but that's going to have to wait until I actually get home." Lilith admits to Isabella and she's already getting a little gung-ho about things while pulling the owl throw blanket off of the hospital bedding to start folding, "But maybe Skittles. And a Byron."

Then she looks at the box with delay and opens it once the blanket is folded and abruptly, she starts to laugh pretty thoroughly and hard with a hand coming up to press against her bound side while hitching breath some, "Oh, shit, it's a... ow. Ow. Oh man, Dog is going to be so offended when I get a real dog one day. All this attention and..." She's immediately getting it out to start putting on the stuffed husky Dog so he can look like a fancy gentleman for the heist.

When Byron comes in, though, with the question, she tilts her head, looks at Isabella with a twist of her lips, then decides to hold up Dog in his new sweater, "... I don't know. But you're handsome and charming and in a suit and can pay a lady if she needs convincing? Or we could just run and I could have... an education watch-people-fighting session. It'd be good for me to see. Wouldn't it? Don't you want my body in one piece as long as humanly possible?" She's working all the angles at once, and when finished, she just holds out Dog in his new sweater like it's the cutest trump card to play, "Dog said I could go."

There's a laugh from the archaeologist, Isabella's spirits lifted considerably, especially with so much of it reflected on Lilith's own face and demeanor. "I can get you Skittles," she tells her. "As for Byron, I'm sure he'll be here shortly."

Her laughter, especially, at the gift she had brought. "I didn't know how you felt about flowers," she confesses. "And Byron mentioned that you got a homemade cake that was really good from one of your prior visitors. So instead of embarrassing myself by getting you something store-bought from Vydal's, I got you something else. I'm happy, though, that you approve. Hopefully Dog does, too."

And speak of the devil, he arrives. "Hey, Ronnie. Nice suit, you know, we were just talking about you." She begins such things with the most unconvincingly innocent tone, the voice she uses that never fails to give those listening the impression that the FBI is about to unleash a sting operation on them in any moment, just to get her to stop using it. "Are you sure you're not the devil? Al Pacino movies never lie."

The rest? She'll leave it to Lilith, and Dog, but there's open affection and amusement as she watches the both of them interact.

"I already put in the paperwork for your release." Byron informs Lilith in a firm tone, "Do you want me to speak to them now on your behalf? I will if that's what you want." He was never the sort to openly do anything that would be considered criminal or at the very least, frowned upon by society. He had an image to uphold, even as a child. Something that was ingrained into him as the son of a police officer, especially one that he did not wish to anger. Though even after his father's death, he's been known to keep his nose clean, ever on the straight and narrow, despite who some of his childhood friends were. So there is a questioning look that comes from him now.

"To KELLY'S GYM though?" There's a lot of emphasis there. First of all, it's in a bad part of town. Lilith's part of town, but nevermind that. "Just for that, I ought to rescind my request for release until you had some time here to think long and hard about what you're asking right now." Yes, he's annoyed. This is HIS IMAGE that they are trying to ruin with their shenanigans, but he knows that she wanted out and that's the only reason why he's easing up on them now. "I'll speak to the nurse. Telling her that we're leaving. After the gym, we are taking you straight home."

"Well. Yes, please. If you would. Even though being a heathen sounds pretty appealing. And I promise I won't even get up to do anything except go to the bathroom when I'm home if we can go to watch. I need some kind of activity. Also Isabella isn't used to my side of town, we could escort her like good samaritans. Also if you want, you can help me get naked and change into whatever you brought me. Of course, Isabella could help with that too, but..." Lilith works a little squint at Byron that combines with slant of her lips in suggestive, playful fashion after she lowers Dog. Then she makes more promises for prosperity sake, because she knows he might be a little peeved with her and Isabella's willingness to just heist their way out and apologize for it later or draw him into it!

"Also I won't get up at the Gym. I'll drink water instead of wine at home. And I'll eat real food, not cake or candy. Also... my hands aren't broken, when you lay down to put me to sleep, I'll do the hair petting this time for you. And when I can stand, I'll make you..." Abruptly her lips twist up a little bit more, "An apple crisp. Because you never got any of the last one. And you can share or not share at will."

Then Lilith looks at Isabella and tacks on, "Also, Isabella has planning and useful things to say we can either say in the car or in the loft when it's done. So a car ride all together makes sense. And I will only marginally bitch about the chair if one comes along out of the hospital with us."

"All extremely valid points, and if she does end up worse for wear, we have no shortage of people to call upon for assistance," Isabella replies, sliding her hands into her pockets and seems relatively non-plussed at Byron's irritation. "And I could use some pointers as to how to maneuver the rougher side of town. I've been gone for over ten years, Alexander had to actually tell me what the significance of the Kelly name was just the other day." Does that stop her from going to Kelly's Gym? No, not really - it's a group activity, and if she's going to keep getting embroiled in nonsense like serial killer ghosts, a self-defense class would be a handy one to take.

She meets Lilith's eyes at the look she flashes her, and then returns her attention to Byron again. "I've got updates on the exorcism, as she says," she says, retracting her fingers from her pockets. "We can go over it in the car ride together. I don't trust the plan not to go sideways when it's actually underway, and I plan on briefing the rest to get them all in the same page by e-mail, since Minerva doesn't know who all is involved. I've a pretty good accounting, so I'll do it. But while we're all here, I figured I'll give you guys the skinny first."

No, Byron does not look amused at someone trying to throw everything they can at him just so one of those thing will make him fold. Though he smiles, just a little, it's not a real smile with the way he's shaking his head.

Here, he stares out as Isabella, looking sorely disappointed, but with her, he wouldn't expect otherwise. "Whatever. I'll go and speak to the nurses. You... get dressed and packed." He's already turning to head out the door in his annoyance. "Sure. We'll 'escort' you to the gym. I'd advise though, that you /DON'T/ go wandering in the bad side of town. Pointers or not." Women.

"That might have been a little too much. But I don't even know how long I've been in here at this point, it's all a blur and I guess I'm desperate." Lilith says aside to Isabella as she watches Byron go out of the doorway, knocking a hand back through her hair to sit for a moment. After working her bottom lip between her teeth, she draws in a breath of air to hold and prepare herself for getting out of the gown, gesturing to the bag across the way that the man packed up in preparation for this day. Very carefully, she puts the blankets back and her legs over the edge of the bed with slow turn so the other woman can help her swap from one set of clothing to the other while the man goes to complete paperwork.

Then quietly, she tells Isabella while all that is going on, "I forget what Elm is actually like sometimes. He kind of has a point, it's not the best place for a woman to be walking around alone, no matter how tough we think we are. I mean, it helps that people know me to a degree or two over there, but even I'm pretty careful sometimes because there's a lot of drunks at night on the sidewalks and... you know. Alexander wasn't really offbase about his concern, it's not... a regular gym, precisely. Not to say you can't handle yourself, but mm."

"Thanks for coming, though. My friend Corey came by a couple of times and works at a bakery, which is why I got the cake. But other than that, it's just been Byron and he... had to watch me get smashed and sit through... me hurting or being difficult with agitation while still juggling everything he needed to do on the outside. I don't... even know how much sleep he's getting lately. I shouldn't poke so much. It's not always cute, no matter how much I want to get out and feel like part of life again."

That might have been a little too much.

"If he really believed this is incredibly dangerous, he would be putting his foot down thunderously," is Isabella's final verdict on the situation, moving over so she could assist Lilith carefully off the bed - it helps that she is a little taller than the pale, more delicate looking Miss Winslow, and it's only when she's certain that she is steady and sure on her feet that she lets go. Then she moves to retrieve the bag, situating it on the bed itself, opening it and taking a look to see what clothes Byron had brought for Lilith. "Still, I'm never failed to be reminded as to how sweet he can be, sometimes," she murmurs. "Willing to fetch things for the people he gives a damn about in the hospital." She will help unlace the other woman out of her hospital gown, once she's chosen what things to wear.

There's a smile. "He's warned me, believe me. I'm going to the class because it's a group activity, but I'm not actually thinking about securing a membership there. Stop in once in a while, maybe, but otherwise I don't intend to be a regular. It's not entirely because he has serious reservations about me lingering around that area, but because..." And here, her expression is resigned, a look of utter commiseration directed Lilith's way. "...because I can anticipate the two of us losing our minds and tempers at one another over so many other things that I figured it's probably prudent to reduce as many extraneous stressors as possible so we don't actually kill each other. I mean, we might still, but that doesn't mean we have to make it easy for that eventuality to win out, right?"

But at Lilith's gratitude, she tilts her head, the earlier smile lingering subtly on the corners of her mouth. "I'm glad I came," she confesses, though what the other woman says gives her pause - about her having only two visitors until today. A hand comes up, to gently brush her fellow brunette's hair away from her eyes, if she lets her, fingers skating down the side of her cheek in the doing. "Part of the List, now, remember? That's you, gorgeous."

Yes, as frustrated as Byron may have been, he at least started out asking with a dry politeness on whether Miss Winslow's documentation was looked over and if she was approved for release. There's eventually some added emphasis when he's told that it was being reviewed, where he let's them know that he'd already given his signature and with the patient wishing to be released at that very instant, if there was anything that the hospital needed for either of them to sign, they would need to send it in an email and he'll get back to them.

It's not that the hospital could hold her there, it was just all the hoops that one had to jump through to get things done.

Returning to the room, he doesn't look any less annoyed, but he got things done whether the hospital liked it or not. It took a bit, so he does arrive once Lilith is good and dressed and when most of her things were collected. "They gave their approval." At this very moment, one of the staff is probably looking over the information as well as Lilith's charts, but they're about to leave! As with all departing patients, he has a wheelchair brought over. Unfortunately, they don't normally allow you to take these on departure, or at least not beyond the hospital grounds, so he had to purchase one for himself. So that's why it may have taken slightly longer than necessary.

Carting the thing over to Lilith's bed, he'll help to get her settled within it, lifting her carefully so as not to disturb her still sore body in the process. "I'd say that you should stay over at my place today. I have an elevator leading up to my apartment, you have stairs leading up to your loft."

"... thanks. It was hard to have downtime and sleep in here, even with drugs because it reminded me so much of... last time I was here and the dreams I was having at the time. Michael was here then, so thankfully I wasn't alone entirely when Byron was hurt with Hank just..." Lilith pauses and sighs a little, finishing the finangling of getting dressed with help to tilt her head into the hair brushing fingers some, "but he... well. There's a reason I don't see him anymore, kind of. Couldn't really talk about much and make it stick or let things out with any real... understanding or even... I mean, I don't even think he believed that I hurt all those people when I did at the bridge. I just remember drugs and hearing Hank's neck snap, so it was hard not to fall back into that this time while on drugs in here. So I really am... grateful."

It's kind of depressing, what Lilith brings up as far as hospital association from the time before goes, and the baggage it's put inside her to suffer with through the pain and frustration of this particular round, but... she seems fine enough about it, or at least enough so to not dwell. And even though Byron still looks perfectly annoyed when he comes back through the doorway, there's an almost lovesick kind of fondness shot his way with glance when he comes in with that damned chair, the expression clearing off more seriously with a few blinks to answer to his suggestion compliantly.

"Whatever's easier for you and ensures you get a little sleep, yourself." Lilith tells Byron, more subdued than giddy this time around, though she does get a hold on Dog with the sweater on with one arm as the other briefly comes up about his neck and shoulders during the small transport, breath held in brief so she can control her facial expressions when she's actually good and moved in full to resettle in the chair. After checking to make sure she has all her things, she nods some and promises, "If it gets too much or I get too sore being out, I'll say something."