2019-10-12 - It's So Hard To Say Goodbye

Alexander walks to the cemetery in the rain. For once - perhaps for the only time in his recent life - he is using an umbrella. It's a cheap convenience store umbrella, but it does a decent job of keeping water off the suit. Yes, another rare occurrence for the copbotherer; he is wearing a black suit, fitted nicely to his frame, complete with black and silver tie, and matching pocket square. He doesn't really know how to wear the suit with confidence, which takes away a bit of of the impact, but he's still clearly made an effort: shaved, hair tamed with a small amount of product, and carrying a battered leather briefcase in his non-umbrella hand.

Ruiz arrives with a blonde and a brunette in tow. Not to mention spiffed up in a dark, obviously tailored ensemble of three piece suit paired with a long coat, leather gloves, and a black umbrella befitting the endless rain. His hair is actually coiffed today, in lieu of his usual shove-it-under-a-cap-and-forget it aesthetic. He'll hold the door for both Sutton and Erin to climb out, and then pops his umbrella as they step out into the rain.

With the burial site secured and arrangements in order, Isabella is as always prompt - never late and never early. The clicking of heels against the stone leading to William Gohl's inevitable place of rest heralds her arrival, clad in a sleek black and backless pantsuit, the top tied somewhere at the back of her neck and kept modest by a tailored Givenchy bolero jacket pulled over her shoulders - probably one of the only pieces in her closet that has the mark of a world-class designer. It leaves the precious moonstone pendant that she is never without the only spot of color on her, its high-quality adularescence soaking up ambient light and leaving it with an iridescent blue glow.

There's a glance as she passes the parked limousine to head further towards the site, her own umbrella lifted to shield her head from the rain and her gaze falling on the silent figures of Margaret and Thomas Addington. She's unable to keep the surprise out of her features when she sees the latter, but she nods to them before heading further into where the congregation is slowly clustering. Her other hand holds a white paper bag with a plastic handle.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Like most PNW natives, August is only using a large, black umbrella in deference to his suit. But considering the suit in question, that's reasonable: a deep, dark plum three piece, with a silver lavender dress shirt and matching, red dotted tie, blue and silver pocket square, black Pearl cufflinks, and black dress shoes. It puts the suit he wore to the exorcism to shame. Congratulations, Billy; you got him into sharp clothes twice in under a month.

He's carrying a crown or wreath of some sort, wrapped in cheesecloth at the moment to protect it during handling. He arrives with Itzhak and Rebecca.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca looks tired. There is good reason for it, but she is here nonetheless. She needs to see this through. She makes her way to the gravesite and finds a space to stand with Itzhak and August nearby. She is in a simple black column dress with a bolero jacket covering her shoulders, wearing simple jewelry. Her hair is pulled over to one side, meticulous, with a small black pillbox hat perched atop bearing a net veil covering her eyes. She stands under the umbrella August holds, keeping the rain off her finery.

Minerva was still tired from recovery and she kept pulling the stitches that were in her arms. They itched! She looked like Doctor Frankenstein had stitched up all those wounds that were running up and down her arms now. Those would heal into some memorable scars. The Doctor herself has a black umbrella to keep most of the water off of the black mourning dress that she wears, there's even the little black leather witchy boots on her feet. Her eyepatch is firmly in place over her long missing eye and she goes to stand off to the side by herself with her offerings held protectively in a black cloth bag that she has clutched in her free hand.

Sutton emerges from Ruiz's vehicle, takes a moment to consider the weather, then pulls in close to de la Vega and his umbrella, wrapping an arm around his waist to save her hair from the damp. Her shoes, cute red heels, might suffer for the weather. Her ensemble is a little bit adorable for a funeral, but at least the base color is black, though the lipstick is crimson, and her top is a print. Skirt's a little short, but it suits her well.

The day suited her mood and Erin was dressed all in black, but there's a defiance in her with the splash of color she adds, a bright golden colored belt around her slim waist and black and gold shoes. https://gray-harbor.com/file/erin/erin4.jpg The umbrella she'd brought with her was black though, prepared to shield her from rain. She hadn't said a whole lot on the drive over, but she'd been friendly and answered any questions asked of her. There's a softly murmured word of thanks when the door is held for her and she will stand beside Sutton and Ruiz, using her own umbrella once she'd used the one Ruiz held for them to get out of the car.

There's an attempt of stoicism from Erin but as soon as she notices her Grandmother there with her Great Uncle she has to work to keep back the tears. Her thumb on her right hand wiggles the ring on her right hand, a reassurance it's still there, trying to draw strength from it. From anything.

A bicycle is parked a respectful distance away, leaned against a tree while Bennie slips out of her purple polka dot rain coat and leaves it in the basket in favor of popping open a somber black umbrella over her head. Her funeral attire is tried and true, certainly not the first gravesite service she's attended in Gray Harbor and it won't be her last. A while ago she found a man's pinstripe suit and deconstructed it and tailored it to fit her frame. Paired with a crisp white dress shirt and golden rod pocket square that matches the ascot that hides the curve of her neck, head capped in a fedora. She arrives alone and joins the congregation alone, standing near the back.

Alexander may have arrived alone, but he gives tentative smiles to those who arrive. Except when he sees Isabella, and that tentative smile blooms into something warmer and he makes his way over to her, dropping the umbrella for a moment into the grass to try and scoop her up in a fierce embrace and hanging on for dear life. There's a whisper in her ear. He also probably hits her with the old leather case, accidentally. But it's meant in love.

Sutton reaches over to touch Erin's elbow.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak arrives with August, and with Rebecca on his arm, hovering over her. He's dressed in a steel-blue suit that has a very expensive shimmer to it. Tailored to perfection, it makes the most of his tall, lanky frame. The suit's color turns his eyes more blue-gray than hazel. He's wearing it with a crisp white shirt and a fashionable floral tie. Matching pocket square, of course. Instead of, like, normal dress shoes, he has on the exact same sleek, tough boots he wears every day. Somehow the guy makes it work. His old violin case, battered black carbon-fiber festooned with band stickers, rests in the coffin with Billy's truncated bones. He's brought another with him, new, cherry-red and glossy. Itzhak doesn't leave Rebecca's side, going where she goes, like he's her bodyguard or something. That August is with them too, he's grateful for. He's going to need a lot of friends by the time this day is over.

There is a decidedly cold look that has settled on Vivian's face, long before she's arrived to the funeral. It's not just the funeral that has summoned up the expression, probably. She's dressed in a black velvet single-breasted Armani suit with a dark blue silk blouse beneath the buttoned jacket, and a black fedora with a closed umbrella in her hand, and black flats instead of heels. She doesn't say anything as she arrives, just moves towards an appropriate place for all this.

She has not seen Alexander for over two weeks - has not breathed the same air as him, has not occupied the same space. There were reasons, good ones. And with him dressed so differently, clean-shaven and the haircut she had given him styled in a more respectable look from the norm, Isabella probably can't be blamed when she doesn't recognize him at first. But when someone breaks away from the gathering to approach her, she stiffens visibly. For a half-second, she doesn't know who this is, until her eyes fall on his dark ones and recognizes them immediately.

She doesn't care who sees. She nearly drops the umbrella, her steps quickening before she throws her arms around him, nearly lifted by the ferocity of his own embrace. Heat, traitorous and vile, stings under her lashes. She must know the kind of face she's making because she buries it in his shoulder, tilted just so to listen to his whisper and return it in kind.

Lilith arrives alone and flips out a bright red umbrella after parking and walking toward where the others are all gathering. Given the autumn weather and rain. she has a dusky charcoal trench that goes to the knees worn, open to display a high-necked black sheath dresss that's form fitted with a thin gold belt to accent. Her heels match and so does accessorizing jewelry, hair pulled into a side-skewed stylish updo with full sweep of played up cosmetics on her features. She's dressed to a tee, and it's probably not for Billy so much as herself. She's always been one to dress in a way to feel together when extremely mood challenged. And what's in her coat pocket poses a certain mood, indeed. As does the day and showing up alone, of course, given certain considerations of circumstance.

She starts to move toward where Isabella is, instinctively, but pauses to look back over her shoulder toward the limo and pauses to draw up a little short, features stoic and controlled, despite the pretty makeup on the fine features.

Alexander's head comes up as the thought settles in. He releases Isabella, with visible reluctance, and looks towards the pair by the car. A flicker of uncertainty there as the woman starts to approach. The umbrella is hastily retrieved, and he manages not to hide behind it. Exactly. When she gets close enough for verbal conversation, he says, "I...did, actually. But if you wish to speak, Ms. Addington, you are welcome to."

Arriving promptly on time is one sharply dressed Marine in his dress blues, or are there two? Easton walks in to take his place with a padded envelope under his arm. He's dressed in his dress uniform complete with white cap, dark blue jacket and lighter slacks. There are medals pinned up there on his chest that some might recognize including a purple heart. And depending on if people are paying him any attention they might catch a glimpse of a much taller Marine, likewise dressed flickering in and out nearby. Easton could have gone with a suit but somehow this felt more specific to the task at hand. He is freshly healed up but far too gloomy to mingle with the other 'mourners'. He catches Bennie's arrival but is quick to look away. He doesn't seek anyone out, laser focused on the package in his hand and the task that goes with it.

If Byron is looking a touch distracted today, there's good reason for that. After the events of yesterday, he has a lot on his mind.

His Wraith pulls up near the Addington's car in the distance, the vehicle's door smoothly opens for his exit. A stately black umbrella pops open, the dark hue matching his attire, for the most part. It's no surprise that he's dressed in an expensive fitted suit all in black, except for the dark slate of his tie. Thrown over it is a heavy black coat in a similar somber color and black gloves protect his hands from the chill, though it's worn more for style than anything. His hair is worn slicked back to complete the look. The look he wears is a somber one, his eyes scanning the faces in the crowd, most all of them are familiar to him by now. Then there is this sense of something, someone. A voice in his head. His eyes sharply narrow, head turned towards Ms. Addington to gaze darkly upon her.

Hyacinth shows as her sterling, steeled self. Raven hair swept up and bangs so even lawns the world over should learn from this. Black tailored satin sheen pencil skirt and matching peplum matching fitted jacket and short black gloves. (https://tinyurl.com/y6bgksdr) The look is every bit as severe as she ever is or Vyv on arm to make sure that black banister spindle leg doesn't stab the ground and let his companion get swallowed by a gopher hole.

At least the casket came out as a fine testiment to teh care of her craftsmanship using two different woods: the Ash from August's sacrificed tree, and an inlay he set by hand. One eyebrow arches and says to the voice in terse tone, "There are. Your presumption may wait its turn. We'll not abate a lack of decorum at this funeral." Eyes scan the gathered to see if the voice will manifest before returning to Alexander, "Good of you."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August levels a look at Margaret Addington, taking her in. "So did I," he adds, pitching his voice to carry.

Minerva turns her head when Alexander is hurrying to hug Isabella and the woman watches the pair for a moment before casting her eyes down to the ground for the time being. She takes a breath and whispers to herself before she looks back down to where Billy's coffin is. She doesn't have anything to say. Not yet it would seem.

Vyv virtually wears suits as a hobby. It's probably not a shock that he's doing so now. Perfectly tailored and clearly expensive, as usual, as is the long black wool coat over it. Cold enough to wear it, not cold enough to fasten it, yet, which means the black suit is visible, with its crisp white dress shirt and stark black silk tie, its knot slightly lifted by a silver collar bar. The only less than wholly traditional aspect is the pocket square, black silk with small white polkadots and fluffed a bit, rather than the more traditional plain white simple fold. Silver and onyx cufflinks can be spotted now and then beneath the coat's cuffs as he moves, holding a large, plain black umbrella over himself and Hyacinth, and a simple tiebar of the same material. His shoes might prefer better weather, but they're perfect too. Of course. He arrives on time, as always. He has nothing to say to Margaret Addington, but she does get a chillier look than the weather before he very deliberately turns his back on her walking.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca's eyes narrow at the mental intrusion from Margaret. Part of her wants to walk up and slap the old hag. But she doesn't have the strength today. She is glad to hear Alexander and August speak up, and she squeezes Itzhak's arm lightly, as she knows he prepared for this as well, with something more important than speeches.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Seeing everybody looking amazing is almost compensation enough for what he's going to give up today. Itzhak's spine stiffens as Old Lady Addington sends her message. His lip curls in a silent sneer. Which turns into a smirk when Hya corrects her in a very correcty fashion. Yeah girl. He rests his hand on Rebecca's...flinches when lightning pops overhead.

She's not ready to let go of him yet, but with his umbrella retrieved, Isabella waits in silence. Green-and-gold eyes fall on Margaret Addington when she approaches, planted as she is next to Alexander. She knows about the eulogy but August's quiet words from the middle has her looking over at him in surprise. Moving so she could situate herself under the man's umbrella, she keeps hers folded and tucked for now, that hand, now freed, finding his inner elbow.

Ruiz scowls slightly at the intrusion from Margaret's mind, but doesn't qualify it with a response, verbal or otherwise. His arm slides around Sutton's shoulders when she leans into him, umbrella up over the two of them. And though he endeavours to keep Erin near the two of them, he's not going to prevent her from wandering off if she prefers to. He'll keep an eye on her from a distance, if need be.

Sutton's only reaction to Margaret's movement toward the grave is to eyeball her, hold a little tight to Ruiz, and slip a hand down Erin's arm to take her hand. The younger Addington can pull away, of course, if she's so inclined, but the blonde gives her hand a squeeze.

There is a brief look around, noting how many very familiar faces have gathered around for this funeral. One or two of those faces cause Vivian's chin to lift just a fraction, her blue eyes narrowing a quick fraction before she lets her attention swing towards Margaret, giving the woman a far more polite drop of attention. But only a drop, then she continues on, her hands folding together in front of her, the umbrella dangling from one hand, the silver tip resting against the ground.

A smile is offered to Sutton at the gesture, but the glittering of tears in her eyes is telling as Erin tries to keep them from falling. Wherever it is Ruiz leads them, she goes, taking one of the places. Though her Grandmother receives a good deal of her attention until she visibly flinches at the lightning and thunder. Generally, she loves storms, loves watching them come in from out over the ocean, but today was a very bad day. The gesture from Sutton isn't lost and she clings to the offered hand, squeezing it, not so hard, but enough to let her know she didn't want to let go either. She needed the contact. "Thank you," she says gratefully in a softspoken tone.

There are is a time for differences, and a time for them to be set aside. Bennie doesn't miss Easton's arrival nor that of the flickering image that walks beside him. It's why she's here after all. Slipping past a few people she reaches out to lightly touch Easton's elbow to let him know she's here at his invitation before her hand slithers away again, clamping around the pole of her umbrella as she stands silently by his side.

The investigator hands his umbrella over to Isabella, although his eyes don't leave Margaret, even as there's a full-body sort of cringe at the once-over. His arm goes rigid and tense under Isabella's fingers, and he licks his lips as the rain starts to come down. He gives a jerky nod. "Thank you, Ms. Addington." He doesn't bother to give his name again. Instead, he opens his briefcase, and grabs a small sheet of paper.

Alexander isn't exactly an inspiring presence as he steps up to the grave to speak. He's fidgety, worrying at the edges of his paper, shoulders rounded like he expects tomatoes to be thrown at any moment. Or for Margaret to just devour him on the spot. He stares at the assembled funeral goers with wide eyes, and there's a moment when he looks like he's just going to mumble something and then flee. Deep breaths. Eyes closed. He braces himself, then rereads the paper before looking up. His voice is at least pleasant when he speaks, with surprisingly good projection of his baritone through the darkness. "We gather here today to lay to rest William Gohl."

His eyes stutter down towards the coffin, but his voice remains steady. "I am told that a eulogy should include memories I’ve shared with the deceased, their achievements, a timeline of their lives, and the sorrow and respect we have for their passing. All of you gathered here know why that’s difficult." There's a moment where he frowns at the paper, then looks out to the car, where Thomas sits. "Most of us don't know William. Not really. The people who truly knew him, the parts of him that never made it into a news story or medical record, or nightmare, they have long since passed from this world. I don’t know the sort of jokes he liked, or how he spoke to his friends, or what stirred his heart with beauty or humility. All of that is gone, lost to history, overshadowed by the murders that he committed."

As Alexander gets into it, he gets the courage to lift his eyes, and look at each of the attendees in turn. There's a pleading in his dark eyes, matched by the plea of his words as he continues, an unlikely devil's advocate. Or perhaps, in his black and silver, the most likely one. "But his life created as well as destroyed, and he left behind people who would not have existed without him." Another of those hesitations, before he takes a breath, and stares at Margaret before continuing, "I’m one of them. So is my father. And other family members – men and women who, in my experience, have been kind and generous, and who have made the world a better place, even if in just small fashions. While I know he took far too many people from this world before they should have passed, including your loved ones, I choose to believe that he brought some good into it, too, even if few remember the kindnesses over the cruelties. I choose to try, and to ask you to try, to remember William Gohl as a man. Flawed, touched by a rage that we have all become all too intimate with over the past few days, but as human as anyone who stands here. And as deserving of respect, and rest, as any of us.

So if we cannot celebrate many of the actions of his life or what came after, if we cannot lay him down as friends and loved ones, then let us stand with him as fellow human beings, each with our own darkness that we struggle with. And let us show him the mercy that, if we fail in our struggle and fall in sin or in grace, we hope that others will show us. Let us send with him, if we can, a piece of our own hope that the world forgives our trespasses, and seeks not vengeance on our souls, but recognizes that in our final night, each and every one of us, sinner or saint, asks for only one thing: Peace."

He lowers the paper, folding it neatly and tucking it away in a pocket before he lifts his hands, palms up, towards the others. His voice is soft, breaking slightly on the last few words. "Let us grant peace to William Gohl."

A glance to August. "Would you like to speak next?" Margaret can go for the end of the line, apparently. She did not RSVP.

Yup Easton invited Bennie here and desperately wanted her to show up but he also is trying to give her space. He doesn't crowd her but the touch at his elbow draws his attention and the look her gives her is pained and grateful and this time he doesn't look away. He switches the package to another hand to offer this one to her, eyebrows raised hopefully at her as Alexander takes to the podium. He nods at Alexander's deft handling of the topic that is weird to say the least. It's in his opinion all one could hope for in this situation. The chill that runs up his spine, causes a strained breath to exhale but that's about it. That's probably a good sign. Maybe. But after that excitement he leans his head towards Bennie and whispers, "I'm glad you came"

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca's pale eyes turn to meet Itzhak's and something unspoken is in them, gratitude for all he's done for her since this entire mess began, up to and including saving her life. Then the chill creeps up her spine and she shudders. She gives Alexander a silent nod of thanks for his words. They could not have come easily for the man.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August nods at Alexander, steps forward. He unwinds the cheesecloth to reveal a small wreath, or maybe a crown, woven of numerous slim, white branches with fall-yellowed, heart-shaped leaves, laurel, and bouganvillea thorny vines with dark, purple black brachts. Several bird feathers (identifiable as dove and grouse to those who'd recognize such things) are settled among the vines and branches, and antler tips sit at the four cardinal points. A single oak leaf gilded in copper lies length-wise with one of the antler tips. "I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind." He pauses a second, looking over the casket, once an aspen tree older than anyone here, which might have been a sapling in Gohl's time. Fitting, then, that his bones lie inside it now. "Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned with lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned."

He toys with the crown, then continues, "Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, a formula, a phrase remains—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love—they are gone. They are gone to feed the roses." He sighs, looks down at the casket. "Elegant and curled is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave, gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve."

He tosses the crown onto the casket; it lands neatly where, if he were being properly buried, Gohl's head would lie. He looks directly at Margaret Addington. "And I am not resigned." He runs a hand through his hair, steps back, and takes to staring at a spot on the ground.

Lilith decides to take a bit of distance while listening, then edges closer little by little, a bit of a vague lift of her brows toward the end of Alexander's speaking. She apparently didn't expect such kind words or preparation, even from Alexander, measured as they are. In fact, for a moment, she almost looks annoyed by it after a glance at the gravesite itself, but it fizzles out fast by the time he's finished speaking. Her umbrella closes as she posts up in final decided placement nearby, and instead of looking annoyed, there for a beat, she almost seems comforted for a few ticks of heartbeat after a shiver draws over her in subtle racking. Then it goes as her hand slips into her coat pocket to curl around what's waiting inside the confines, eyes briefly seeking out Byron before they flick back around.

Her attention shifts to August when he begins speaking next and she draws in a slow breath before looking at Margaret next. Her eyes take a turn toward briefly considering, stoic features contemplative. Then she checks visibly on Erin before glancing toward the limo, awaiting the next bit for speaker to carry things on.

Steel eyes continue to watch Margaret Addington after she'd dared to intrude into their minds, something which Byron is ever guarding against. No, he did not write anything up for this particular event, nor does he have a care for the person who is being put down once and for all this day. He just wanted this to be over and done with. Finally. They could then move on with their lives! He falls quiet, attention shifting from Margaret to Alexander when the other man begins to speak. He's mostly unmoved by what is said and while he didn't lose loved ones the others have, it's not as if he were unaffected by Gohl's murderous rampage. How many times had the GHPD shown up at the Apartments? And how many times did he have to field the questions of angry and frightened tenants? He'll say none of this.

When he feels that silent cold caress, he bristles at first, his head turning to the side to view the others to see whether they'd sensed it or not.

Easton whispers, "Fuck, that was so much better than the dirty limerick I was going to say."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August coughs, covers his mouth with a hand, gives Easton a sidelong look of 'please don't make me laugh after reciting Dirge Without Music'.

Alexander steps away when August comes up. shivering under that ghostly touch, returning to his satchel and Isabella, and the umbrella. He sort of looks like he might faint with relief - someone doesn't like public speaking at all. He offers the rest of the party a shaky smile, though, before taking her hand and tucking it back into the crook of his arm, if she'll allow it. He turns to look at August, and tears well up in his eyes at the words. A sad but brilliant smile to August, with approval.

Minerva doesn't like old ladies invading her mind nor the caress of dead fingers, but the woman shudders and tries to focus on the proceedings that are at hand. She gives a look across to Margaret and then back to where the coffin is. Though Easton's whisper makes her lips quirk into a bit of a smile.

Ruiz's eyes are riveted on Alexander throughout the entirety of his speech. If the man should look over, there's a brief, encouraging smile flickered while he stands there in the rain, sheltered under the umbrella in his gloved hand. The chill that comes over him garners a hitch in his breathing, a swallow, and his hand on Sutton's waist tightens a fraction. It isn't relinquished as August starts to speak. And if his dark eyes are a little wet by the time the man finishes, well, can he really be blamed?

"My pleasure, love," Sutton murmurs to Erin in return, voice lowered in respect to the others in attendance. She laces her fingers with Erin's, eyes closed when the eulogizing begins, throughout silent as Alexander speaks. She says nothing, but her eyes open and she looks toward the dark-haired man when he mentions peace. And she swallows when he says is again. She stares at her delicate red shoes through August's words. This wet grass is ruining them. She swallows.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak glances down at Bex, eyebrows melancholy, and squeezes her hand. August's poem makes him scowl ferociously because he's not crying. His friend up there, in his gorgeous suit, doing what needed to be done and making it beautiful. ...Easton's whisper makes him snort and need to cough into his hand.

She takes the umbrella, squeezes his arm when she feels tension cable down the muscular limb. Isabella's nod is an encouraging one, standing on grass and earth, watching him make his way to the front and give the eulogy he has so painstakingly prepared. The words uttered leaves her expression an unreadable one, though it is not the lack of emotion that renders it so; rather several different shards of emotion battling for dominance over a face too expressive for her own good. But when their eyes meet whenever it's over, there's a clear moment of visible pride, there - not at the content of the speech, itself, but what it must've taken to compose it in the first place. It can't have been easy.

The chilly thrill winds down her spine - like icewater rushing down the shallow channel of it, skeletal fingers of a nameless fear stroking at nerves still burdened by her own rage. She takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore it. Her eyes find August when it is his turn, though the poem he recites is not one she recognizes - poetry is Alexander's area of familiarity, not hers. When Alexander returns by her side, she hands him back the umbrella, and there's no resistance when he takes her hand. Fingers curl into his elbow and her grip there tightens. And while she says nothing, she turns her face to press her mouth gently against his cheek, lingering there, her eyes closing.

Beautiful words, and for as cold and shut down as the doctor's features are for most of this situation, because that expression is cold. Ice cold. For Alexander when he steps up to share, her expression thaws and a faint smile of approval for the man flickers across her face. Encouraging, really. Until that cold brush of fingertips against her back and Vivian stiffens in surprise, the expression on her face melting back into the usual neutrality that she dons when she's in a session, and guarding herself against getting caught up by someone else's emotions.

After a moment's hesitation, Bennie's fingers slide into Easton's white gloved hand, her head downcast slightly so that her eyes are shadowed by the brim of her hat as people start to speak. She gives a delicate little clearing of her throat at Easton's quiet words, but it might just contain the slightest bit of a chuckle.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca's breath hitches in her chest at the poem from August, and it brings tears to her eyes, the image of her sister invoked for her with every stanza. She leans on Itzhak more heavily. When August returns, she sets a hand on his arm and gives him a nod of thanks, sincere.

Vyv listens quietly; attentive, very much, but fairly impassive. There's a ghost of an inclination of his head at Alexander's remarks, not quite a nod but more of an acknowledgement. He stiffens as well at the first sense of that chill, fleetingly, before both feeling and reaction are gone again. Should anyone happen to be watching, there's a faint twitch at one corner of his lips when that whisper from Easton drifts just far enough to catch, but it's back to firmly and inexpressively composed a moment later.

Look, Byron isn't here to make a speech. But he is here to ensure that William Gohl, the man whose ruined so many lives is put away for good. When it's his turn to step up and make his sacrifice, he has very little in things to say. "I hope that this was all worth it." He's asked himself that very recently over actions that he'd taken. "And from here on, those affected, the lives devastated by this can.. move on, but never forget all that we've lost here and how much we've suffered.." That probably includes Gohl. "Let is strengthen all of us as we look to the future."

With his gloved hand reaching deep within his coat pocket, he draws out this folded up piece of paper. He hesitates at first, looking prepared to simply throw it into the casket along with the rest. Instead, he takes this moment to unfold it, so that he may look upon the black heart drawn there for one last time. He'd lost this years ago and had only recently found it, for him to lose once more. This time, he doesn't refold the piece of scrap paper, something created way back in their Junior year of high school. Instead, he carefully leans over and lets it slip from those gloved fingers. As he steps back to join the others, it's hard to tear his gaze from it, but eventually he'll have to and move on.

Listening to Alexander was difficult, humanizing William Gohl as something other than the monster he was. There's skepticism on her features. He had taken so much from her and would have taken more. Her eyes drift inexorably towards Thomas in the interim and for a long while she bites her bottom lip too hard, afraid of countering anything being said. The word Peace reverberates within her and she clings to it for the moment. Through August's words, beyond anything else, and she tries to maintain her composure even through that chill racing down her back.

The looks and replies to Easton's joke about the limmerick don't get more than a sly smile in reply. He's just fine with being the loud guy, even at a whisper.

Taking his hand out of Bennie's Easton turns to give her one last meaningful look. He's tempted to say something trite, to push back at all these stupid emotions with a joke. But instead he just nods at her, resigned. Just as he's about to pull away Bennie stops him though, which causes him no amount of confusion, mistaking her actions for something else. Instead she takes the package and ties her yellow ascot around it. He watches her and his face falls, dammit he almost was holding it together. He takes the package, nodding again and makes his way up.

Making his way up to the grave, Easton is clearly walking less smoothly than usual. He makes it to the side of the grave and then clearly for everyone to see is another likewised dressed Marine standing next to him. Easton looks over and can't help but whisper, "Of course you showed up for this. Drama queen." Yes, it's in front of everyone but he doesn't care at this point.

But Easton tosses in the package and says, "I wish I had a chance to kill you myself Gohl. Somehow I think you can appreciate the sentiment." The words aren't meant for anyone else, but he's loud enough (as always) that most hear anyway.

And then Easton turns to give the ghost of Tom one last look, just in case this actually works and doesn't have quip or funny thing to say. Easton turns to return to his place, turning his back on the grave and Tom and then with a flicker, Tom's no longer there. Or at least not visible. Like he said, Drama Queen.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August gives Itzhak a small smile, sets one of his hands on Rebecca's and squeezes hers, dips his head in an acknowledgment. Probably not the first time he's recited that one. He meets a few of the other looks cast his way, steady and calm despite what they're about and the disapproval from Margaret. He watches Byron's offering with plain curiosity, wondering at its source; watches Easton with the package, grimaces, swallowing down nausea when Tom simply...vanishes. Well then. That sure did happen.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
"Who's that other guy?" Itzhak whispers to August and Rebecca. His question is not quite answered when the other man accompanying Easton fritzes out of reality. Itzhak doesn't know what face he should make.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca watches solemnly as Byron and Easton make their sacrifices. Both of a seeming more private nature than the prior ones. She watches Tom vanish from Easton's side and her heart aches, wishing for all her worth Kelly would come to her that way. "A ghost," she whispers to Itzhak. She returns the squeeze of August's hand.

Andi wasn't entirely certain why she was so involved, but she had to make a sacrifice. Something important to her. There were a few things. One was unthinkable. So were the other two. Something to bury with a serial killer that had already taken so much from the town? Enough for two lifetimes? How many more was the man allowed? Like Andi could give a shit what he had with him when he was buried.. there was that, she could take a shit in his casket. Gladly.

Somehow she didn't think that would suffice, but it's what she thought of the man. What everyone thought of him more than likely. Honest to goodness she had brought three things with her. One in each pocket and one in her inside blazer pocket right by her heart. Oh she knew it was the one in her inner blazer pocket that she should be putting in, but she would never put such innocence in with something so evil.

That left two other things. Her hands slip into both outer pockets of her blazer and she feels each of the would be sacrifices. They meant so much to her. Not as much as the one in her inner pocket.

Suddenly tears fill her eyes. She knew that was the one she had to give. It brings her to her knees, literally, before the casket where she would be forced to leave the sacrifice.

It hurt. God it hurt. Her shoulders slump brokenly as she reaches into that inner pocket and pulls out the small photo album. Baby's First Photos. Flipping it open she looks down one last time to the ultrasound photo and the picture below it of a happier time and Andi with a slightly rounded belly out by the Pond near the church. Her finger traces over her daughter in the ultrasound as the tears fall unheeded. Closing the book, she holds it close to her heart one final time before slipping it carefully into the casket so the book doesn't open.

One breath, two, reaching for it like she would take it back, but her hand turns into a fist instead, "FUCK YOU!" Using her fist to punch the casket as hard as she can. Twice. "Burn the fuck in hell." The last few words spoken with more vitriol than she'd ever spoken with before. With a jerky motion she gets to her feet and blinded to everyone else by her heartbreak, by her fury, by the hatred, she walks as tall as she can back to the back and sits stiffly, warding off others who would approach her by her standoffish demeanor.

Alexander watches Byron, then Easton with that flat stare that comes off as reptillian and uncaring to those who don't know him; but in actuality, he's concentrating, thinking, and focused on everything they're doing and saying. Eventually, there is emotion - surprise when Easton addresses the unknown person, then dawning realization, and sadness. He doesn't say anything, but takes a deep breath.

And then Andi goes. He watches with the same fixed attention, but flinches at the outburst at the end. It's not he can blame her, exactly, but it brings an even deeper sorrow than Easton's sacrifice, for some reason.

Ruiz draws to attention, of course, when Easton steps up in his uniform. The change that comes over the cop is transformative; instead of the lackadaisical, slouched mien he often presents, his shoulders suddenly straighten, and a flicker of the Marine that used to inhabit his frame is glimpsed. Eyes forward, jaw tight, he's a stalwart figure in the dark and rain and flash of distant lightning. Then others are coming up to leave their sacrifices, and he watches in silence. One arm around Sutton, and the other touches Erin's shoulder if she'll permit.

As Easton slips up front with his package wrapped in the last scarf due to Billy she'll wear, Bennie raises her chin stoically. Her eyes stray to the wavering image of the Marine by Easton's side, and that particular sacrifice is laid to rest, she kisses her fingers and holds them out slightly to the image of Tom as it blinks out of existence. Head bowed again, and hand offered out to Easton at his return, the Blonde isn't really tracking Andi's actions until the bang on the casket that makes her flinch and jerk away from Easton involuntarily as if a gun was just fired.

It appeared to be Erin's turn and though she was reluctant, she had prepared for this day in advance. The item she was leaving was undoubtedly the most important possession she owned. It was certainly the most sentimental and she'd been wearing it ever since the accident that took her parents lives. The accident cause by the man whose funeral she was here to attend.

Oh there's heat in her eyes, a hatred so deep it reaches her very soul even as part of whatever made the man who he was lives inside her. Using the thumb of her right hand she jiggles the ring on her right ring finger as she'd done thousands of times since she'd taken possession of it. That reassuring feel of it there. A connection to her past. The only thing she had of her mother and father that she even cared to own.

Theirs was a love so all-consuming they couldn't find any left over for their daughter and left her with Margaret Addington twenty-six years ago.

Walking stiffly up to the gravesite and the open casket, she links her fingers together briefly, a moment of silence where she's certain everyone present can hear the beating of her heart. She is very sure her Grandmother is watching her every move.

It was such a love her parents had and now she was going to have to place the icon of all they had given to each other into the casket of the man who had killed them. How many times in one lifetime could a single heart be broken?

Removing the ring from her finger she holds it, watching the glittering of the heart-shaped intertwined diamonds. There's an audible sob from her as she tries to maintain her composure and finds herself pathetically lacking in the ability for once. "I'm sorry mom. So sorry. You deserve so much better than this."

Carefully, she places the ring in the casket, letting her hand linger there a little longer than necessary. When she withdraws it, it's empty. Holding the side of the casket she takes a few breaths to try and stop crying at least so she can turn around and retake her place.

Sutton's hands tighten on Ruiz's hip and Erin's hand when Andi screams. She doesn't move otherwise, just watches each come forward to give something of their lives and memories, and stares for a long time at Easton, even after more have come forward. She looks at Bennie, then turns her gaze back to the grave.

If anything, this parade of mourners must pique the curiosity of onlookers. Byron's included. What were people willing to give up? What where their sacrifice. Even now, he has regrets on what he'd done and there's this urge to go back there and retrieve the creased piece of paper from the casket. No, he would have to leave it and lose it for one final time. Watching Easton, or more like, casting his gaze out to view the other soldier who had caught the man's attention. Did Thorne think he looked familiar? He'd seen many a soldier's faces in that one glimpse into Marshall's dark past. Then, Tom is gone. He'd continue to stare out into the nothing if it weren't for Andi Johnson's outburst that suddenly pulls his attention right back to the casket. Thorne didn't blame her at all. Erin's softer words and demeanor changes the mood and he tries to offer the young Addington a reassuring... something. It's not a smile, but it's a look and a nod.

From his satchel, Alexander pulls a book. It's a self published job, not exactly great quality, and there are approximately five million bookmarks in its pages at this point. He says, quietly, "This book was put into my keeping by my first friend in quite a long time. I was supposed to give it back, but she's gone now, and I never got the chance. It's directly the reason I met - or met again - some of the people I now care about," a glance towards Byron, and Easton, and Isabella, "and more, it's the representation of a promise I wanted dearly to keep, but now - I don't think I will ever get to." He goes to one knee so that he can gently place the book in the grave. "I hope it brings you comfort as you rest, William." And if there's a little bit of defiance and disapproval in the dark-eyed look he cuts towards Margaret as he stands up and steps back? Well. From one Mentalist to another, and just the fact that Alexander is naturally open with his emotions, it's not hard to pick out his aura of 'fuck you and the high horse you rode in on'. Barely veiled hostilities and emotional outbursts? It's like a REAL family funeral!

Vyv continues watching, still silent, though there's a different reaction to Byron and Easton's words. Possibly more of an echo of his own feelings in those, though the appearance and disappearance of that man during Easton's has him blinking, weight shifting slightly as though resisting taking a step away. A sidelong glance to Hyacinth, as though checking whether she saw that too, but at least the others are making it pretty clear he didn't imagine it. So. That's good, at least. Andi's yell makes him start, though he can't half blame her. Isn't it what most of them want to say, really?

At In The Middle Somewhere:
"Amen," Itzhak mutters, in reply to Andi's cussing. He silently watches the sacrifices continue. Those eyebrows go up when Alexander puts in his, and his friend's words make him think.

Hyacinth approaches with a slow stroll. Really Easton has the right of it, it's really damn inconvenient to compensate for uneven ground with ambulatory upgrades. Alexander's words in particular pull an up tilt of her chin. Ohh that tingly sensation? That might have been one of those feeling things. Will have to review this later for veracity. She eyes Margaret on occasion and it is a bitchy, bitchy battle of wills! hell she learned by growing up emulating this woman. It may pay off or have been 30 years living in err, but it comes in handy. Looking up to Andi she says flatly, "Bitch, please we are having a ceremony and if you can't handle it you are not being held at gunpoint . Grievances are to be filed at Two If By Sea after this." Cannot even get through one ceremony in peace. She points in that direction to eb helpful and keep the purpose of this ritual on focus.

Her imperial self walks to the side of the casket she broke many a sparkly nail on and begins rather frank, which may be a testament to her ow truths. "Well. It looks good on you. You're welcome that I have damn fine taste. Still...we gather here in honor of you, William, to help you get over your shit." Piercing words that don't mince meaning. Laying her fingers on the craftsmanship one last time she pulls up a bag and brings out from it a prosthetic fit for a child and with rhinestones glued to it and a satin ribbon fashioned as laces up the back not unlike a ballerina. "Maybe it's time we all get past some of our shit and I thank you... for helping me realize it is time to move on and maybe we are holding on to too much."

Looking up she says with a dry laugh looking to Thomas, "I remember you being the one to get it for me. Let me reassemble. Let me know I can stand up for myself, well... I'm doing that now." He looks back to the box putting it in there. She murmurs to the man in the box tiredly, "Take it with you. Pretty sure you already have the other one anyways." The last words are choked, eyes narrow and that, for once, is a real emotion on her face for a fleeting moment before it is utterly banished in favor of keeping her shit together.

Vivian glances over towards Andi at her outburst, and there is some flicker of approval that someone finally said it. But that's the only emotion that seems to crack the careful mask she's formed. It's a very unsuccessful mask, really. Anyone with a brain could tell that she's probably go all kinds of emotions happening right now.

Returning to Bennie, Easton takes her hand and even lets himself lean against her. Wanting if even just for a moment to fall into their pattern of a complete and utter lack of personal space. But then she's pulling away from him at Andi's outburst and though he understands it, he still mentally curses it. He tries not to show his annoyance, but instead offers his hand back out to Bennie.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Andi's outburst, her sacrifice, seems to make Rebecca wince in sympathy. And then there is Erin's, and Alexander's, a veritable parade of people willing to give things up to protect others. It is as heartwarming as it is infuriating that they are forced to do so in the first place. Hyacinth's makes her lift her chin a bit, holding to the good of this, of people willing to let go for better things.

Alexander watches the sacrifices, but his attention shifts to Margaret. He's staring at her now with that flat thinky-face, and no trace of tact or subtlety.

Lilith watches more or less still and silent with her hand in her trench coat pocket, wrapped around a handkerchief swaddled package that fits in the curve of her palm. Though, Andi's outburst gives leverage to the barest twitch at the corner of her lips, like she's taking some satisfaction from it herself, by proxy. It's a momentary thing, though, as her expression takes a turned toward pained when Byron steps forward before the others to watch in silence. She eyes the piece of paper as it falls and for a split second it looks familiar, but it can't possibly be... can it? She feels like it is, somehow, she has no idea what he's chosen, in truth, or what he may have found.

Her posture changes a little bit, less still silence, more thick and poised tension, but it's subtle. Her painted bottom lip works in brief between her teeth before her attention is stolen by Easton going next, then the others. She knows her time is coming.

Isabella's eyes follow Byron when he tosses a piece of paper - what looks like something he had mentioned to her over the summer - and Easton as he sacrifices the last traces of his best friend into the dirt, Isabella's fingers curling tight into Alexander's elbow, not enough to hurt but indicative of the strain, but unlike him, there's no surprise. Andi's sudden vitriol returns tension to her frame, enough to send her heart to kick up a few notches. But there's no surprise on her features and Alexander's own softens the look of her. And after Erin, Hyacinth and the rest have cast their own offerings into the grave, she slips her fingers away from the man's elbow, clutching her moonstone pendant as she moves to the mouth of the grave, standing by the lip of it. Her eyes look far away for just a moment - her grip on the token tightens.

But she releases it, and pulls out the framed photograph that she has brought, the faces within; a family of four, two of its members sacrificed to Gray Harbor's strangeness - the last image they had all taken as a whole unit, the negatives carefully taped to the back. There's no outburst, absolutely nothing from her, her ridiculous mental fortitude keeping whatever emotions she harbors at bay, shut tight and barricaded away from the rest. Fingers clutching the frame so tightly bone joints push up from underneath her skin, rendering it pale and white. A thumb draws over her mother's face. Her brother's. Irene and Isidore smile up at her, features frozen in time.

Raindrops patter on the glass. She takes a knee to place the frame on the casket, and doesn't look back when she turns away to move back to where Alexander stands. She looks at no one, her hands tucked into her pockets as she moves.

Irritation, embarrassment, sheepishness and just the tiniest thread of anger all flare within Bennie after her reaction to the sudden and loud noise. Her eyes remain solely on the points of her shoes - flats, even now - to quell the apologetic look she longs to give Easton as her fingers curl back into his.

But like a Catholic School dance, Bennie leaves room for Jesus between them.

Vyv steps just enough forward along with Hyacinth to keep the umbrella over her (or possibly over her dress; satin does not play well with water), and at that flicker of emotion at the end, he gently touches her back, leaving it there as a light guide back away from the grave and to where they've been standing.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak doesn't say anything, when his time comes to offer a sacrifice. He gets up, carrying his new cherry-red violin case, and walks to the coffin. Opening the case, he takes out his bow and violin. The case is new, the instrument is not. Same one he's always had.

There's nothing particularly special about his violin. It's a standard violin made in the standard way, handsome enough, responsive. Itzhak rests it against his shoulder, tests the tuning. He tucks the instrument under his chin, draws in a deep breath, and on the exhale--pulls his bow across the strings for the first floating few notes of 'Ave Maria'.

He plays it well. Oh, he plays it well. Those who are familiar with his playing know he normally never plays anything like this, high and sweet and longing. Lingering. Yearning. He lets the notes hang in the air. His eyebrows are at maximum tilt, giving him a longing expression of his own.

When he finishes the song, he lets the violin down. He looks at it. Then he kisses its smooth body, tender as a lover.

Then he lays it on the ground and stomps on it. Crack--crunch--twang! The strings wail as the bridge collapses, then the body. Itzhak scoops up the corpse, his hands shaking, his face wet (surely from the rain), and lays it into Billy Gohl's coffin where its old companion waits for it. He shows old Billy's bones the middle finger New York salute, and cuts a look at Margaret Addington that makes it clear she's included. Then he closes and latches the empty, glossy red case and walks back to his seat, his face like a fist clenched too tight.

Sutton's gaze follows Erin to the graveside, through the sacrifice, and back. She says nothing but she does lift her arm to the brunette when she returns. She takes a breath, watching Itzhak play. She flinches when he destroys his violin. Her gaze follows him all the way back to his seat.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca watches Itzhak go forth, and she listens to the music he plays with her heart swelling with every beautiful note. He is the music, the music is him, and this is a tribute too good for Gohl. And yet he plays. And then he sacrifices his instrument and she lets out a little smothered cry with her hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide.

Alexander's attempt to bore holes through Margaret Addington with his eyes is briefly interrupted by Isabella stepping forward. He watches, silently, and when she comes back, he tries to wrap his arms around her and give her a gentle hug. Not without another stare in Margaret's direction, though. But from there, his attention is captured by Itzhak's playing, and he closes his eyes to listen. The crack of the violin breaking brings a physical tremble through him. "Oh, Itzhak," he mutters, so softly, as he opens wet eyes to stare at the man.

Ruiz can't even watch Itzhak play his violin. He turns away, body rigid under the touch of Sutton's fingers against his hip. The crack of the instrument being shattered sends a flinch through him as if he were the one having his bones broken. His breath hitches, then evens out again as he forces himself to look back.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca steps up to the edge of the grave and looks down at the casket, meticulously made by a friend of hers, from the wood of a tree that meant something dear to another friend of hers, both people who gave her shelter when she needed it. Her mind, however, is on another grave, far from this place, where her little sister's body lies. Her fingers close over the necklace she wears, every day, even if sometimes beneath her clothing.

"I am Baxter Blood, and thus kin to William Gohl. This is my sacrifice," she states, unclasping it and pulling it from around her neck, letting it rest in her palm. She looks at the casket, picturing the man in it. "It is a piece of jewelry with more worth to me than the value of its parts. It is a diamond with a golden tree growing out of it, it's roots encasing the stone." She holds it up by the chain.

"I was married once. I thought it was a happy marriage. I was wrong. Terrible things happened, and, in their wake, I discovered my spouse's lies threaded through our life. He was the death of my innocence, of my naivete. When I filed for divorce, my little sister Kelly, the same Kelly that you took from me, asked for my wedding and engagement rings. A few weeks later she gave me this pendant. It was meant to say that great things, wonderful things, beautiful things were ahead of me as I grew from my terrible experience."

She looks at it solemnly, tears spilling from her eyes. "This symbol, this beautiful, hopeful thing that was formed from my tragedy, helped me move on, I hope it now helps you do the same. My sister was the greatest treasure of my life. I give this up, so that no one else has to know loss like that. To you, William, I say, in the words of Marcus Aurelius, Despise not death, but welcome it, for nature wills it like all else."

With those words, she drops the necklace into the hole and steps back away from it, a trembling hand pressed to her mouth, to return to Itzhak's side.

Minerva waits until it's her turn to give her sacrifice over and she takes a moment to pull the black leather badge holder from her bag. The one that folded and had the ID on one flap and the badge on the other. There's a picture on it. It's definitely not Minerva that was in the FBI. She wasn't one to show emotion sometimes, but Andi's shouting makes her eye start to tear up, which makes her run a hand over her face. She didn't need to cry. Then Itzhak is playing and the woman can't help but let the tears roll down her cheek.

Minerva presses the badge to her lips and closes her eyes to say something in Yiddish to it. There's a ring slipped from her finger after the badge is lowered and she tucks it into the case as she moves forward to where the open grave is. She gives a bit of a look to the sky and then she bends forward to place the offering down on the coffin. Then she straightens and goes back to stand on her own as her heartbreaks all over again. She doesn't make eye contact with anyone, but those accomplished Mentalist can probably feel it.

"Ashes for ashes..." Lilith almost loses her stoic silence and expression when Isabella has her turn, but still, she waits. And when there's an opening, she steps forward with a speak down toward the gravesite box when it comes her turn around in the sober waiting queue, the gold heels sinking some in the wet ground to make her do so a bit gingerly. But then, maybe she's not so much wanting to approach either. She was already responsible for her father's death, what she wrought caused it, now she was putting him in with a murder ghoul? When her hand comes free to unwrap the item from her pocket, it's a necklace vial of ashes, physical remains of a person as memorabilia form.

Her fingertip touches at a 'K' pendant strung on the vial chain to go down with the ashes and her face twists when her guts do the same, taking a moment with that irreplaceable piece of someone she never knew and would never know. That missing piece of her life that could have made it all so different. It was in Hank's pocket at the morgue, he always kept it with him, it should go with him. It was the only piece of her unknown, undetailed mother that she had, though only one person standing around this place truly knows this, perhaps.

After Lilith drops the connected parental memorabilia and remains, she murmurs, "May your memories, too... may they be just dust." Then she turns her back on the site to walk through and take a moment with a few steps of space from the gathering, keeping faced away. And when she goes, she mutters bitterly under her breath, "Stay down, motherfucker."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August watches Itzhak play, expression grim. He blinks when the violin breaks, no reaction beyond that. He stays calm and resolute. When Itzhak returns to his seat, August reaches out to take his hand, grips it tight and firm. He leans over and murmurs something to him, then kisses his temple, gentle and light. He turns his attention to Rebecca, grimaces for what she has to give up. Sighs, looks sidelong at Itzhak. Sacrifices indeed.

When it's Ruiz's turn to speak, he extracts himself from his companions, leaves the blonde his umbrella, and steps forward into the rain. His eyes are fixed on the casket for a few moments, then lowered as he withdraws something from a pocket of his longcoat.

A wedding ring, held for a time between his gloved fingers like he's remembering the woman who gave it to him. The love and the life he won't ever get back. His dark eyes are squinted into the rain as it slowly soaks through his hair and his coat, and he tries a couple of times to speak before finally managing to get the words out:

"Hoy es ese día, el día que llevó.
Una luz desesperada que ya ha muerto.
No dejes que los invasores sepan:
mantengamos todo entre nosotros,
dia, entre tu campana
y mi secreto

Hoy ha muerto el invierno en el país olvidado.
que viene a visitarme, con una cruz en el mapa
y un volcán en la nieve, para volver a mí,
para volver otra vez el agua
Caído en el techo de mi infancia.
Hoy en día, cuando el sol comenzó con sus ejes.
Para contar la historia, tan clara, tan vieja,
la lluvia inclinada cayó como una espada,
La lluvia mi corazón escuchado da la bienvenida.

Tú, mi amor, todavía dormido en agosto,
mi reina, mi mujer, mi inmensidad, mi geografía,
beso de barro, la cítara recubierta de carbono,
Tú, vestidura o mi canción persistente,
Hoy estás de nuevo y con el cielo.
El agua negra me confunde y me obliga.
Debo renovar mis huesos en tu reino.
Todavía debo desentrañar mis deberes terrenales."

He crouches by the casket, tips the ring inside with a soft tink. Then clears his throat, then switches briefly to (mostly) English at the end, before retreating entirely:

"Rest in fucking peace, cabron."

The music is lovely. Vyv watches that with clear appreciation, even if it's quiet as the rest. Putting the instrument in would be bad enough, but the destruction first -- it's not just the sound, it's the act of it, and a flicker of something distressed makes it through the facade, quashed as swiftly and firmly as he can. It's still not quite the same level of impassive it was as he watches and listens to Rebecca, then the others.

The thought that he didn't get to go to Tom's funeral hits him unexpectedly. He was still in the hospital when Tom was laid to rest. But it never meant much to him, until right now. Easton blames that damn violin and it's perfect high haunting playing that rips through him with unexpected emotional impact. His fingers squeeze Bennie's just a touch tighter and somehow the rain manages to fall straight from his eyes. He doesn't bother wiping it away, he just tries to get through this while all these people keep chopping onions.

Erin makes her way the long way back to where Ruiz and Sutton stand and she retakes Suttons hand without really asking. There's nothing said as she listens, and for her own peace of mind she avoids looking towards her Grandmother for now. There would come a time in the very near future she'd have to pay whatever cost her Grandmother demanded of her, but for now, she was able to grieve in peace for her parents, even as she listens to the others, each and every one, giving them all the respect of hearing and seeing their sacrifices and what they had cost each person.

She lets him. Enveloped in his arms, within that gentle embrace, something in her nearly breaks - in time with the beautiful lilt and the shattering of Itzhak's violin somewhere over her shoulder. She, too, tenses at the sound of it. Isabella turns her head to drop a few words in Alexander's ear, her arms coming around him and giving him a squeeze, before she releases and returns to her earlier position. Lilith's words, then later Ruiz's, take up her attention too - both are able to engage her mind away from the screams inside her skull, the unfairness of it in the end, filaments of white-hot rage starting to break through the careful facade of neutrality she is trying to maintain.

Alexander's mouth opens, and he's glaring heatedly at Margaret -- but when Ruiz steps up, his teeth close with a savage click that's audible to Isabella, at the very least. He turns his head away from the older woman in a clear gesture of dismissal, and attends to the police captain's words. And watches him, tears slipping down without a bit of shame. A low shuddering breath, then a crooked sort of half-smile at the very end, a shake of his head.

That tightening of fingers, it's as if Bennie knows exactly what prompted it. Frankly, she was on shaky ground to begin with but with family photos, intimate jewelry and Itzhak's haunting rendition of Ave Marie, it just becomes Too Much. That squeeze to her hand is like some safe harbor offered and Bennie just turns into Easton, the brim of her hat flattening against his chest and hard earned medals. Her umbrella dips down beside them from an arm no longer strong enough to hold it aloft, and as Ruiz speaks the poem in his Native tongue, her shoulders just start to shake.

Byron had known Hyacinth for years even if they've never been entirely close and now she calls him cousin, of all things. It's odd and something that he's still getting used to. So watching her speak out in a manner that could only come from one Hyacinth Addington was rather refreshing, no matter what the Addington matriarch might have to say about it. This is followed by Isabella, someone who he'd been waiting for, having ideas of the kinds of things that she could or would give up. His eyes flicker to her toying with that pendant, but when the reveal is made and the photograph comes out, he slowly nods in understanding. Her brother wasn't the only person she had lost.

Noting Alexander's gaze in his direction when the notebook is mentioned, his eyes will follow when it, like everything else, is added into the casket. This is followed by the surprisingly lovely melody performed by Itzhak and the violent outburst that followed. No, he won't look in Margaret's direction when he gives her the finger, even if he catches sight of it from out of the corner of his eyes. Lilith is then up and he already knew what she was planning to sacrifice, but this was final now. There was no turning back. There's Minerva and Rebecca, who he also barely knew, but she was a tenant and she had lost someone during the course of this. Then Ruiz and his ring. He knew the cop had been married at some point, if he had to guess.

Watching everyone say nice things, mean things, anything, Vivian remains motionless but for the looking. Silent. Eventually all things come to an end, however, and she moves forward after a little while, unbuttoning her jacket so that she can reach inside to pull out an envelope. Simple, white, but it looks like something is inside it that makes it look bulky.

"I hope that you rest in peace." It's spoken carefully, and quietly as she slides a thumb against that envelope before she steps towards the grave, tossing it in along with everything else that has been tossed in so far, "May it all be worth it."

As she moves back to the place she'd been standing, anyone that happens to be close enough can probably hear her very quietly added, "Asshole."

Sutton takes Javier's umbrella and stands there with Erin, watching him go. She listens to the Neruda, and though she can't quite tell what he has in his hand from here, the poem is enough to suggest what it might be. She takes a breath, holds Erin's hand, and watches more and more go into the ground. It's starting to take its toll, standing here beside a grave, no matter how irreverent her attire.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak accepts the kiss from August gratefully, letting his sore eyes close a moment. He watches Rebecca intently as she speaks, as she gives her pendant to Gohl. When she returns to him he wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her and whispers to her in turn. Then he has to listen to Ruiz, although he doesn't understand the complex Spanish. His eyes track the wedding ring Ruiz gives. God. Everything is too much.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca curls into Itzhak's embrace and she weeps, for her sister, for him, for all of these people. Her hand presses to her chest where her pendant used to lie, and she feels hollow for its absence.

Vyv hands Hyacinth the umbrella and approaches the grave, drawing a small box covered in burgundy velvet from the pocket of his coat, and flips it open -- not to display the contents, but to study them himself. Anyone close enough might catch a glimmer of pale metal, and something pale brown. Cufflinks, perhaps? He certainly seems to own enough of them. His head tilts slightly to the side as he regards them, brow faintly furrowed, and after a second that corner of his mouth turns up again, though not quite in the usual manner. Wry and rueful, and it comes along with his eyes closing, then a small shake of his head, swallowing. He curls his hand closed, the box snapping shut sharply within it, like the falling of a guillotine.

A glance away as his eyes open with more of a shine than he'd prefer, the hand wrapped around the box lifting to shoulder height as if keeping it safely away from the grave. Then he drops down to a crouch, leaning to gently, reluctantly, set the little box on the casket. "Past is past, I suppose," he says quietly, and no louder but with an edge as sharp as the closing of the box, "Be past." Rest in peace and fuck you, buddy, all rolled up in one.

He rises and turns, without a look back until he reclaims the umbrella and settles beside Hyacinth again.

As Bennie falls apart, Easton does his best to console her, bringing her close to him. He is thankful for a moment, thinking that he can be the strong stoic if much shorter shoulder for her to cry on. But then he realizes that the shaking isn't gentle sobs rippling through her body but the gentle and inappropriate church giggles. His own mouth begins to twitch as he forces himself to not give in to the ridiculousness of the situation. The heartfelt emotion poured out for a serial killer ghost that may or may not be currently still semi-infecting their minds and driving them to murder. Thankfully his ability to not laugh at jokes or things he finds otherwise funny was finely honed during his time as an officer. He just manages to look straight ahead and whisper, "This isn't fucked up at all."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August watches Rebecca and she joins them, gives her the most reassuring look he can. He turns his attention to the continuing sacrifices, narrowing his eyes as he tries to piece together some of the Spanish in Ruiz's poem, watches the wedding ring fall with a sigh. He ducks his head, shaking it. This had better fucking work, his expression says.

Hyacinth stands still and is prodded into motion again when Vyv's hand fingers her back as support and reminder. She turns with him and her fingers take his arm and squeeze it hard. She walks and pauses when oh, surprise surprise, Margaret is adjusting her will. One eyebrow goes up. Hell, she hasn't changed it already? Someone's been busy. Her eyes fall to the box in Vyv's pocket and stares for a long moment pocking up intention. There's a slight flinch as the snap of the lid and she says nothing as he had his peace. Her hand comes to rest on his shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. Much being said for a very muted colour pallet of emotions.

Well isn't this just a little embarrassing. No one told Sutton it was a sacrificial affair. Near the end, when there's a lull, she leans over and says something to Ruiz. She slips a hand into his suit pocket, then slips away from him and Erin. Her little red heels bring her to the graveside, grass a bit squishy from the rain, which means she has to stay on her toes lest the stiletto heels sink in.

"Billy, babe. You fucked up a lot of people. But I didn't really bleed for you at the bar." Her fingers skim through the rainwater on the casket, skip over a few items left. "You've taken a lot of shit from a lot people, love, so here's one last taste of Sutton blood for you to drink." She flicks open a small pocket knife, borrowed, and drags the blade across her forearm. "Shit." That's emphatic. "Javier, you need to sharpen your knife." That's muttered, but at least two rows can hear it.

Sutton stands there bleeding, rich red pouring at a steady (not arterial) rate for the span of a very uncomfortable twenty seconds. "Cool. Don't spent it all in one place, pet." She steps away, bleeding in the grass, pauses, and turns back to say, "Peace be upon you." And then she's out, striding with sweeping steps over to Erin & Ruiz. She clips the knife closed and drops it back into Ruiz's pocket, then finally checks her depth on the cut. Eh. Super glue later.

At In The Middle Somewhere:

Minerva gives a blink and then her head lifts and she looks over towards where Margaret has walked off to, "Why didn't you do it yourself then?" Minerva states in an icy tone. Does anyone feel a bit of electricity in the air? Or is just Minerva?

Easton's composure is high but even it can not hold back the WTF look when Sutton cuts herself and starts bleeding on the grave. He looks around the crowd like 'wait what?' and then Margaret is getting up to tell them what stupid assholes they are and he agrees, "Yea, well fuck you too." It's not loud and there is almost no heat behind it, but it needs saying.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak rolls his eyes. "Don't fuckin' talk to me about little lights in the darkness, lady," he mutters. The Jews know alllll about lights snuffed out and how to kindle new ones. This. This is how.

It is really in appropriate for Bennie to be laughing now. She knows this, and yet it's like she can't suppress the giggles down completely so is eternally grateful to Easton as he provides cover for her shaking shoulders and eyes that are streaming from the effort to rein it in. As Easton tells someone off, she lifts her head, blinking and making fruitless swipes at her red cheeks.

Lilith keeps her back turned for a long time before finally turning to wander back toward the fringe of the gathering to look on. Then she sets her jaw with tension while listening to Margaret and makes a huff of noise through her nose. Her head moves into bare shake of 'fucking figures' that's unspoken, but pretty damn clear given her expression, but overall, she keeps it together and looks a little carefully at Erin, then the others around, as if waiting for one of them to react. Her attention is stolen by Thomas, though, and after a flat press of her glossed lips, she sighs a little and looks at the gravesite with a certain amount of... indecisive dread or foreboding. Now that it's done, the finality of it doesn't seem real and what happens when it's done to signify it's done?

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca regains her composure a bit and reaches up a hand to touch Itzhak's face, willing him to be at peace.

Ruiz doesn't seem at all taken aback by Sutton's sacrifice. He might, however, be keeping some sort of completely inappropriate amusement at bay, for something she murmured to him before she stepped up with his knife. Then Margaret offers her nasty little parting speech, and his nostrils flare. But he's blessedly silent as he waits for the blonde to rejoin him under his umbrella. Erin's hand is taken, too, if she'll let him.

Alexander doesn't really react to Margaret's words. He...doesn't necessarily disagree, even. Ever anxious and willing to second-guess himself, he's fallen into silence, staring at the grave, his fingers tap-tap-tapping a nervous rhythm on Isabella's arms, his expression blank.

Erin hears the chastisement from Margaret, something she was probably used to hearing from her but she keeps her chin tipped up just slightly. Nothing is offered though, no talking back like some of the others. There was no talking back to her Grandmother, not from Erin, she knew that lesson well. Instead, she reaches for Sutton's arm. It was a cut, surely she could help. There's a brush of sympathy towards Javier but again, she says nothing, not intruding in his moment, though she does give him her hand with a quiet smile. She doesn't ask Sutton this time. Instead, she just works at fusing the wound back together quickly. And like before she keeps hold of Ruiz when she does it, because it helps her.

Vivian's usually so polite, so well adjusted. But the look that she shoots Margaret is cold, and hateful, and if she could literally kill by looking at someone this woman might be the victim of all the pent up rage that has been going around. Only for that glare to shatter at the sudden CHRIST, and her head whips around towards the casket, blue eyes going wide before she wonders in a voice that sounds far too calm for the situation, "Well that just happened."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Itzhak presses Rebecca's knuckles to his lips, gazing at her, in a totally non-romantic gaming buddies kind of way. He's distracted by the coffin yelling, and glares at it--but then he shudders. Shudders real good, from the base of his spine allll the way up. He looks up, although there's nothing to see, not with his eyes. "You feel that? The doors all closed."

"Something tells me that's not good." Minerva states in a defeated tone. She got drawn into this in the mid game. But Margaret's voice cuts through and ignites a fire, "FUCK OFF YOU OLD COW!" she shouts at the car, teeth bared and apparently the Jewish woman is fucking done with all of it. She turns to give everyone a look over, that one pale eye wide as she does. Then she's walking off and muttering in some language. Because this is what we do when we feel bamboozled!

There's a curiosity in Byron's eyes when Vivian places an envelope into the casket, followed by everything and everyone else. Breathing in a deep breath, he knew that this was finally over. He could taste it. It doesn't come as a surprise to him when Margaret Addington has sharp words for the group nor does he look to Thomas Addington when he knows very well what the woman is referring to. Thorne always knew that was an option despite the opposition everyone had against it. Does he hold some resentment about that? If he does, any murderous rage that may have come with it is soon gone. Just like that. Some of the annoyance lingers, but he's taken aback by the outburst and the sudden slamming of the casket. It was over, right? The world was right again? His gaze now looks to the others. It didn't feel right.

Sutton pauses when Erin touches her, then just leans in against Ruiz, who has hold of Erin, and stands there watching the cut on her arm knit together thanks to the brunette's healing abilities. She takes a breath, smiles her thanks, and shortly glances over at the twang on the string of — what was that? Power? Something on the heels of the voice. And the old bag haughty-toitying away.

"Only persons of low character feel the need to tell you so, you huffy old goat." That pops out of her mouth full on English.

Sutton pauses. "My bad, that wasn't meant to be that loud." Back to the mostly-American accent.

Alexander flinches at the voice, almost trying to drag Isabella behind him, as if that would save her from murderghost. And the world changes in some way he doesn't quite understand (yet), and he shivers. But his lips press together. "Well. It's done now. No changing it. Only living with it." He sighs. "But I feel...better."

"Shame you didn't have the fortitude to do something about it before we got dragged into things," Vyv says crisply after her, not particularly caring whether she listens or even hears, "Do go enjoy your Netflix queue." No, he wasn't there for that. Yes, he heard. As at the beginning, he turns his back on her quite deliberately. The slam of the casket, and the voice, has him tensing again, and he eyes the grave. "Yes. It feels-- slightly odd," he says, though it's barely loud enough to count as an answer to Itzhak. "But if he's gone, then we did what we set out to do."

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca shudders at Gohl's voice, but the feeling of the rage and despair departing lets her breathe again for a moment. Then the world feels smaller and she flinches, as if something bad has occurred.

Isabella doesn't look at where the Addingtons are starting to exit the proceedings, her gaze fixed somewhere on Alexander's black lapels. The tapping on her arms is one that she glances down on, before her eyes tick back up to the side of Alexander's face. She's about to say something, but she's cut off by the casket slamming shut and the words spilling out from empty air. She glances back towards the grave, something tickling the back of her neck as the sense of the world shrinking creeps into her just as she's suddenly tugged to the side and behind of Alexander. There's a puzzled look in his direction.

A hand moves to press lightly on his back, a soothing pass over it. "You do? Good." There's relief there, at least. Her hand drops down to find his, linking his fingers with her own and squeezing once, but otherwise she says very little. There are words, there, but she keeps it to herself, for now.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August lets out a long, slow breath when that anxiety, that unsettled feeling departs, frowns at the sense of things...closing in. He swallows. "Yeah that...seemed bad." He sighs, looks askance at Rebecca and Itzhak. "Want me to cook us some dinner? Get out of this fucking rain?"

"Vyv." Vivian greets, finally. But it's only a quick greeting before she nods towards Alexander and Isabella, "Mister Clayton, Miss Reede." It's a hi and a bye all rolled into one, because she stops remaining rooted in place waiting for the other shoe to drop. She uproots herself, a hand slipping into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her keys, taking a moment to look at them, thumb flicking against one of the keys before she starts to head back in the direction of the cars.

Alexander is totally okay with handholding. He squeezes Isabella's hand when she twines her fingers with his, offers her a faint smile. "I...do. Yeah. Just the regular irritation with the world." He winks to her. His gaze sweeps across the rest of the assembled. He opens his mouth, taking a breath like he was going to say something loud enough to be heard to the rest, then clearly seems to rethink it, and closes his mouth again. Another, smaller smile to Vivian. "Dr. Glass. It's good to--" and then she's going, and he falls silent again.

Hyacinth closes her eyes with the snap and the moment of sillness that comes. Her lungs fill weathered and relief. "Vyv, I don't know about you but I need a drink, and I owe Andi one." Looking to Byron she speaks trying to keep her words crisp to banish the emotion from rising in her, "I have something I found that belongs to you I think. If you can make time tomorrow Or before she's decided that Erin and I need to be banished. It's right you should have it. It would have belonged to your father but... I like you."

Lilith stares a bit with her made-up eyes widening when the commotion comes from the casket right before it slams closed as she watches. Then abruptly, she shudders and looks a bit ill or uneasy while stuck staring. Eventually her lashes bat a few times and she looks down at herself before drawing the trench wrap coat around her black and gold-belted sheath dress, as if cold or trying to draw some comfort from somewhere while standing off kind of apart and alone. Then after a little clear of her throat, she starts to backpedal a few paces, as if uncertain of what to do or where to be after a glance over Byron's way, turning to look at the parking lot afterwards. Her eyes catch on Vivian leaving before she looks at the gravesite again, visibly double checking it.

Like many of the others, she seems uncertain what to say or how to explain the way everything felt suddenly and continues to feel. So she lingers to see if anyone says anything else.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
"Fuck. FUCK. Something went wrong." Itzhak's looking all around as if he can somehow spot the problem, like a clogged line. He seems exhausted, dark circles around his red-rimmed eyes. "Something changed." He quivers in place. Less murdery now, but no less of a spaz. It's been a long road from violinist and mechanic to border-crossing shaman, and he's feeling the strain. He looks at August, blank at first...then nods, calming down a little. "Yeah. As long as I can get really, really drunk."

Ruiz closes his eyes for a moment, and grits his teeth as the sensation of that foreign intrusion in his mind departing is felt so keenly. He grips Erin's hand hard, his arm around Sutton tightening for a second or two before both go slack. It's done. Done, and yet not; the shift, like a set of curtains being drawn across an open window, makes him frown slightly. His eyes tick toward August, of all people, then away. "Let me know when you're both ready to go," he informs the women with him.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
Rebecca hangs onto Itzhak's hand and she looks to August with a grateful expression. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

"Would anyone like to get drinks?" Alexander says, blurting it suddenly and with absolutely no grace, as people start to split up. Then he sort of freezes, like he can pretend he said nothing at all.

The dead serial kill taunts them and moves on and something about the world shifts. Easton feels it and then hears others reacting to it too. Well that's probably fine. Probably. He continues to hold Bennie, even though the moment has long since past, he's not giving up this until he absolutely has to. And then Alexander is asking about drinks and he looks at Bennie and can't help but call out, "First round on me at the bar!"

Sutton takes a couple of breaths, still unsure of what all this veil business is about. She's only been aware of it for a few months, still only just getting a handle on what it feels like when someone uses glimmer around her. "Drinking." That's what she says in reply to the 'when you're ready to go' comment. She looks to Erin. "Drinking?"

"Oh, is that all? Grand. That's nothing alcohol can't blunt or intensify and either way, it'll be entertaining." Isabella returns his wink with one of her own, taking a step sideways so she's further drawn underneath his umbrella. Her fingers tighten into his own, though they don't remain there, ever restless. She lifts the back of his hand to her lips, pressing it gently against one of his knuckles.

With the funeral drawn to a close, the cursing from Itzhak has her turning her eyes there, and then to the rest of the clearing. The words are there again, piling up from behind her teeth.

Instead: "Nope. Nope. Not today. Let's get shitfaced, instead." Following up what Alexander says in invitation. Easton's supportive remark following has her grinning.

"Vivian," Vyv replies, inclining his head to her; it's not quite a smile, but it's more or less his version of friendly, anyway, even if she's swiftly heading away. A glance toward Rebecca, as if taking inventory of her, and then he glances to Hyacinth, nodding. "Yes. A drink sounds ideal," he says -- to her, but as Alexander adds that in, he glances toward him, then back to her. A suggestion, perhaps. Plus hey, Easton's offer there.

At In The Middle Somewhere:
August puts a hand on Itzhak's arm. "I don't know if anything went wrong, just..." His gaze drifts to the casket. "Gohl was obviously part of some larger something. We need to figure out what. See if we can fix it." He manages a wry smile, nods at Itzhak, then Rebecca. "I've got plenty of beer, wine, and hard cider."

He glances towards Ruiz, catching that look, then is distracted by Alexander. He looks askance at Rebecca and Itzhak, raises an eyebrow. "I'll drive, if you two wanna load up some first."

Bennie tilts her head back so she can look up at Easton from beneath the brim of her hat. "Get me outta here, Marine." And to the bar seems good enough for her. She can always come back and get her bicycle later.

Minerva is a bit down the road when calls for drinks go out and the woman stops for a moment and then decides to trudge on. She had something that needed doing and she might possibly have a shit ton of homework to do on top of that. Always working.

Hyacinth considers how very put together she's fought to be to please that woman who will never be content or happy. A faint grin curls at the corner of her mouth looking from Vyv to Alexander and Easton and back, "Ideal." she agrees. And before her inheritance runs out she says to Easton, "I've got second."

Byron already had too much on his plate. He didn't need the Gohl interfering with his life, but it happened. He didn't need Gohl causing panic and suspicion within the Bayside Apartments, but that happened as well. He didn't need the complications that came with finding this sacrifice and the consequences that may follow. That happened too. So now, with this heavy feeling that /something/ just happened, it makes him wonder what he did wrong without even realizing what had occurred. His umbrella is still up as he stands close to the graveside.

Hyacinth's words catch him by surprise, pulling him out of his dark thoughts to look in her direction. It takes a moment for him to register just what she'd said. "Something that should belong to me?" There's a quirk of his brow. "My family?" Some family... He nods slowly then, "Perhaps, noon?" He treats this like any other business appointment. Looking around at the group, catching sight of Vivian as she wanders off alone in the distance and then Lilith, he murmurs, "I have something that I need to do. But I'll send you a message." A pause, "Thank God this is finally over."

Erin had felt the loss, even still she feels it. She looks uncertain. "I think I need to go speak with my grandmother at some point." Maybe not now though. She holds on to them both a moment longer before finally letting go, "Drinking is tempting though. If you guys don't mind the company."

"I think we want to blunt things," Alexander says, to Isabella. Then leans in and sneaks a kiss on her temple. "Most things. Tonight, at least. Things have been a bit...intense." As he straightens up, he looks surprised, then utterly delighted, that there's some interest in the drinking. "Then. Uh. The Two If By Sea?" Nope, still not going to shorten that name.