2019-10-18 - Dire Warnings And Fond Reunions

It's solidly mid-afternoon on a chilly October Wednesday, which means the ol' Pourhouse isn't exactly hopping at the moment. Oh, there's a couple of the regular barflys, someone in a booth reading a paper, couple of bros throwing darts near the back. And at the bar sits a particularly unimpressive specimen: James, he of red hair and matching beard, short, slight, and if the hint of redness at the tip of his nose is any indication, either he just came in from the outside chill or he's been here and drnking a while already. The lack of a drink glass in front of him would likely indicate the former. "Hey, can I get a whisky? Double? Well's fine.", he calls to the bartender.

Pushing in through the door, not exactly the easiest or quietest task for a girl her size, Abitha steps inside from the chilly air. Her eyes give the place a brief once-over, the kind of awareness of strangeness that could be read as nervousness, though the look doesn�t seem to last long. Tiredness, or maybe just exasperation, colors over that expression, eyes dropping to the floor as ankle-booted feet pick their steps carefully through the room toward the bar. Her hands go to her scarf and unwind the long woven yarn strip, throwing it over the stool two down from James. She smooths her skirt under herself and slides onto it, raising a hand and squinting down the bar to see what�s on tap. She wore a sweater and leggings, but wasn't really that bundled up, so maybe she hadn't come far.

James glances over as there's movement nearby, and notices Abitha taking her seat. He blinks. Someone shorter than him! As his whiskey is delivered, he gives a cheerful grin and raises his glass vaguely in her direction in a show of Short Person Solidarity. And then he turns back to his drink, but rather than downing it, he just puts it back on the bar and goes digging through his pockets until he finds and pulls out a pack of cold medicine pills. Something strong enough to require him to show ID at the pjarmacy before they'll let you walk out with it. He pops a pair of the pills onto his hand while reaching for his drink with the other, apparently intending to down them with the whisky.

Not a social butterfly, and probably not telepathic... Probably... the raising of the glass draws Abitha's attention, as well as a slight twitch of her eyebrow, the sort of look of someone not sure how to take something. The blank blink she gives him only enhances the idea. Her attention is given back the bartender so she can order a cider or a sour, likely drawing her own foul expression, but the drink delivered anyhow. She glances at James again warily as she takes the first sip, now noticing what was about to happen, eyes wide and staring, but unmoving. She looks on the verge of saying something, but is more aghast at the scene than she can really admit.

And there goes James, pouring on the ol' charm as always. It's not the first time he's gotten that kind of look from a girl at a bar, and it probably won't be the last. The show continues as James pops the cold meds in his mouth, then downs the whiskey in one shot. He makes a face as he swallows, then puts the glass back down with a click of glass on wood. "Ahhh. Now that's how you kill a cold before it starts. Meds for the symptoms, whiskey for the disinfection. S'just science, that.", he says, to no one in particular. Or maybe to the bartender, who just looks bored. "And pour me another, I've got some amphibian-related nightmares to drown, will you?" The bartender, who likely has seen weirder, just pours the whiskey.

She almost makes it. The bit about the alternative cold remedy washes over her, eyes slowly rolling back to forward, peering blankly at the wall behind the bar as if trying to shut out the world, but the last bit… catches her by surprise. She snorts, and spits a bit of her sour in a fine mist. Her eyes snap to James, then the bartender, wide again, but in a more deer-in-the-headlights sort of expression. Without taking her eyes off the tender, she reaches one hand across the bar and takes a few napkins, then finally breaks the stare to stare downward as she dabs at her mouth and hand, then the bar. One elbow comes up on the bar and she leans forward, taking a heavier sip of the drink as a redness creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, muttering something that was probably an apology.

James grabs the whisky and lifts it up, about to bring it to his lips when he notices that literal spit-take a couple of seats down, and he chuckles. "Sorry about that. But, I mean, it's true." He looks to the bartender. "You know it's true, right?", he asks the bartender, who is now studiously cleaning some glasses and trying to pretend he is not part of this conversation. James turns back to his drink. "S'true. They'll tell you to watch out for the bugs, but man, it's the frog you gotta watch out for. Gray Pond's gone to the frog, and, frankly, welcome to it." He sips his drink, and sighs. Three days back in town but he's gunning for that 'town weirdo' spot at full bore, it seems.

Abitha gives the bartender another quick look, a mix of guilt, but also having a furrowing her brow, as if wondering how this guy hadn’t been cut off yet. Her phone makes an appearance briefly, the screen lit up briefly as she appears to be checking the time. Yup, still the afternoon. She finally turns her eyes fully on James and stares across at him, a mix of confusion, and maybe just the slightest hint of pity on her face. “How many have you had?” she ventures, another brief glance made to the reticent bartender. She sips her drink again, looking back to James, resting an elbow on the bar, as if settling in for whatever the show was she happened into.

This guy hasn't been cut off yet because that is in fact only his second drink, if the two fingers he's holding up are any indication. Apparently he's like this when sober, which is a sobering thought in and of itself. And James goes and confirms it, saying, "Well, this one makes two. First was just to get the pills down. Never was able to get the hang of dry-swallowing." He makes a face. "I mean, just saying it sounds unpleasant." He shakes his head, and then seems to come back to the conversation at hand. "Sorry, s'just been a hell of a few past couple of days. I promise I'll start shutting up more after I've made my way through a few more of these.", he says, with a sheepish smile.

"Did the last few days include dropping acid?" Abitha wonders flatly, brow raised, still not sure what to make of him, but figuring she still had a beer to finish. The remark about trying to take pills is rewarded with a brief side flick of her eyes and a tightening of the side of her lips, a very clear attempt to hide a smirk. Ok, maybe she at least found that one funny. "No, no. By all means, just keep going," her sarcasm can't help but slip out, "Convince the rest of the audience we're still rooted on Terra Firma." She draws her lips in after another sip of her drink, partly to retrieve any extra tasty moisture, partly to hide her own temptation to grin.

"Afraid not. Tho if you got any... just saying.", James replies back at that first question, and shrugs. He chuckles at the rest of her words, and takes another, more sedate, sip of his whiskey, going thoughtful for a moment. "OK, let me ask you something... you a townie? And if not, how long have you been in town?"

James would be rewarded with another snort, but a more controlled one. Abitha was amused, but not surprisedly so. "Fresh out." she returns. The question gets another more animated cock of an eyebrow, trying to keep the humor off her face as she answers, "Asking for drugs, asking me if I'm from around here, ranting about frogs," She counts these points on her fingers as she crosses her legs, now turned fully toward him, foot flicking lightly, a challenging sort of posture. "Like, you can't start with a name or something?"

"Well, if I'm being honest- and I'm pretty sure I am, because I am a professional liar and am currently off the clock, I am frankly more concerned with the frog situation than I am with knowing people's names. But! I recognize that is a personal failing on my part, and in no way a reflection on you.", James replies, and, after a beat, adds, "And I did make you spit out your drink earlier, for which I feel I must atone. So, hi. I'm James.", he offers, lifting his drink in a salute to her.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Mac." she says simply, regardless of how that name probably did not fit her in the least on sight. She raises her drink in a returned salute and takes another sip, like one would with a toast. "And no, moved here a few months back." Her eyes narrow as she peers across the empty seat between them, adding, "But people would miss me if I disappeared." Whether that was true or not, or necessary or not, would really remain to be seen.

"Lucky you, Mac. Not entirely sure I can say the same for myself.", James says, giving a sigh and an almost-shrug. "I'm a townie myself. Well... was a townie. Haven't been for a decade and a half, was living in NYC, the land where your apartment is smaller than the rats and that smell is, in fact, pee. Greatest city in the world." He takes another sip. "Just got back. Long story, uncle died, inheritance, you know the drill. Anyway, I was asking because, I mean- months, you said, right? Months. Tell me you haven't noticed this town is... weird."

This elicits a shrug from Abitha, a halting response communicating her confusion at the question, "Not... Really?" Another sip is taken from her rapidly draining drink, not making eye contact, an innocent affectation, maybe hiding something she was embarrassed by. He didn't need to know she generally just manned her shop, streamed some games, and had her groceries delivered. That was healthy life... Right? She tries to divert, "I dunno, I only ever visited like... Time Square and the Statue... Outside of Comic Con, anyways."

"Ah! Comic Con. Here's to the New York Comic Con, the glorious clusterfuck that it is, because the Javits Center is not, I repeat, not up to the task of containing that many of us geeks- too many of which can't even be bothered to follow the 3-2-1 rule, but that's a rant for another day, I'll just say I live by it because I'm not a goddamn savage, but I'm getting off-topic, so first, here's to Comic Con.", James replies, because apparently when God was handing out whatever part it is that exists between your brain and your mouth that keeps every single thought going through your head from spilling out of said mouth, well, James was absent that day. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. "Back to the topic at hand, though:", he adds, and turns to face her. "Really? Months here and it's just.. ok? I've been here three days and look at me. I'm crazier sober than I've ever been drunk, and let me tell you that is not right." A pause. "And may I say I hope that never changes, miss Mac, and to assist in this I will make a suggestion: Stay clear of Gray Pond. Strange things are afoot there."

The last toast has her draining her glass, setting it to the wooden bar with a soft clunk. She peers down into it for a moment of contemplation, then lifts her eyes again and waves the tender down for another. Hell with it. "Yeah!" was the only way she could really answer that bit of advice, awkward, slightly patronizing, like a parent does when their kid tells them about talking animals or something just as crazy. Her cheeks were slightly dimpled as she takes up her second sour for a sip, a clear sign she was trying to hold the dangerous smirks at bay. She tries to steer the conversation back to subjects that actually existed in her wheelhouse, looking quizzically at James, "Wait, what does data backups have to do with Comic Con?"

James does catch that patronizing tone, it's far from the first time he's heard it- oh and of course there's that weird emo-radar he's had on and blaring at him ever since he got back into town, but it doesn't seem to phase him much. If his warning at least gives her pause before ever going there and becoming frog-bait, well, that's basically like saving her life, right? You're a hero, James. A goddamn hero. "No, no, 3-2-1. The basic rule of con survival.", he explains and holds up three fingers. "3 hours of sleep." One finger drops. "Two meals." Another finger drops, and it's just one now. "And one bath. Minimum. Every day. Maximize you con time, maintain energy, keep from suffocating your fellow con-goers with an area-of-effect Stinking Cloud. 20 foot radius on that one, and no one needs that."

"Jesus F, they actually had to make that like a spoken rule?" Her expression pinches into a grimace, as if she could just smell the Con Funk some neckbeards could muster soon into any event. Her tongue makes an appearance in a gagging motion. She raises her own fingers as her expression clears, counting the points off as she knew them, "Have three copies, two on different storage media, one offsite." Her hand opens into an upraised palm, adding a shrug, "That's what I knew it for. Still, that's mostly why I started getting hesitant to cosplay. No more pictures with trash monsters." She was opening up, which was a terrible indication the alchohol was doing its job, and probably would be quite effective on someone her size. It Comes In Pints, afterall.

"Ever since I went to my first con, way, way, way too long ago. Dragon Con- now there's a con, gods bless 'em.", James replies, and drains the last of his whiskey before motioning for a refill. "No way, you cosplay? What kind? Comics? Anime? Video games?", he asks, seeming honestly interested. Now that his Dire Portents of Frog-related Doom have been delivered, he seems happy enough to drop the subject. Especially since he has, against all odds, met a kindred nerd.

"Ah, Dragon Con isn't really my jam. I'm more a PAX kinda girl. And uh..." Abitha lifts her drink, trying to be quiet about it as if genuinely embarrassed, "Guilty, times three." She holds a hand up by the side of her face, and peers anywhere but at him, the typical mime of trying to remain invisible, but finally releases a snort and drops the act, "Last couple were mostly games though. You can get some sweet bonuses from the companies for showing up and 'repping. Not like I'm a Nigri or anything... Cause that's gross." she says, nose scrunching in disgust. Her hand moves to swipe gently at her skirt, an almost primping motion, as if reminded by the subject the need to stay classy.

James shrugs lightly. "Enh, the sexy cosplayers fill an important ecological niche.", he replies back to Abitha, then pauses. "I mean, they must. Keeps the 14 year olds out of my way, at least, and gods bless 'em for that." He sips his whiskey. "So you're a video game nerd, then, I gather?", he asks. "Me, I'm more old school with the gaming- not that I mind video games. I even bought myself a Switch like three months ago. Had to sell it a couple weeks later so I could make rent, but man, those 5 hours of Breath of the Wild I got to play?" He mimes a chef kiss. "So good."

Another dry snort is issued from Abitha's nose, responding in flat sarcasm, "No, I just own the shop for giggles." A thumb is jerked, not that James probably knew to where she was pointing. "And I mean, Switch is pretty fun for what it does. I pretty much only own it to Smash, though." Another noncommittal shrug is made in James's direction. She leans heavily on an elbow and adjusts her seat again, body turning slightly back and forth, as if playing with the barstool's ability to pivot. "I dunno, D&D is so played out for me. Like I'd rather something modern. World of Darkness type stuff, if I ever wanna tabletop. Fantasy tropes are just so tired." Without looking, a finger taps the rim of the empty glass she set down. 'Bout time for number three.

There's a man over at the far end of the bar and people call him Red. He's not a redhead or anything, but his nose is almost always red and when he gets mad, he turns ten shades of tomato, which of course, prompts his buds at the Pourhouse to piss him off more often than not for kicks. He's also pretty wasted, but that's par for Red, he's a regular. And it happens to be who Lilith Winslow is looking for, apparently, when she comes in the door with tall, dark-haired handsome company. Though the pair of them are dressed semi-casually, it seems a little dressier than the bar's clientele usually goes for, but maybe it's just a drop in because the woman's walking like she's on a mission when she sees him.

The brunette knocks a hand through her loosely curled hair and looks at Byron with a general 'goddamnit' expression when she sees Red's blasted state, as she explained in the car on the way why they should maybe stop and have a drink at this bar instead of TIBS. Then, after a shake of her head, her heeled ankle boots carry her toward that far end where Red is, wearing an off-shoulder fitted sweater in smoky mottled color with tailored jeans, "Red. You know why you're looking at me, don't you? Time's up. You know why I did you that solid and it's time for you to pay it back. I'll even give you the collateral back even though it was default weeks ago." Her fingers snap in the man's face a few times to get his focus somewhere in that hardass speech, despite her standing there looking like a little barbie doll. She's kind of stance squared off and ready to scrap, arms folding over her midsection.

The drunk man, for his part, just squints at the woman before yelling, "Lily! C'mere little girl, give Uncle Red a hug and ki--"

He immediately gets slugged in the arm instead as Lilith snips, "No, give me money."

"Hey now-", James says, raising a finger. "Respect the D." A pause. "And the other D." He's sitting at the bar, conversing with Abitha, who is wisely a couple of barstools away from the tiny bearded ginger. He is far scruffier-looking than pretty much everyone else, with, perhaps, the exception of Red over there, and so he doesn't quite notice the entrance of the Good Looks Duo over yonder, not yet at least. "'Twas by slaying the Gnoll King through blade and song that I became this fine specimen you see before you today." He takes a sip of his whiskey, and mutters over the rim, "... Clan Brujah represent..." He clears his throat. "Besides, maybe it is played out a bit but, y'know, some of the only good memories I have of this town revolve around D&D. Y'know, I used to game with some other kids back then, we called ourselves... ah, shit, what was it... The Gray Harbor Adventurer's Guild? Good times. Wonder what's up with those guys these days."

While Thorne might be a local to the town, so much that the Pourhouse would just any other bar to him, as he'd just pulled up to the place in a black Rolls Royce Wraith, Two If By Sea would probably be his bar of choice. Nevertheless, he's not dressed up in his three-piece suit which is the norm for him, and he's out on a casual night on the town. First there was a book reading at the Weber shop and now this.

While he has that city-boy aesthetics, the way he styles his hair, the trim of his beard etc, he's dressed in a deep burgundy sweater, a pair of jeans and combat boots. He doesn't loathe the Pourhouse and he knows quite a bit of people who actually come here instead of TIBS, just with the income he makes, most would think this place was beneath him.

Trailing behind Lilith, idly giving the place just a brief look over, he turns to Red once Lilith draws his attention to the man. This isn't his fight, though he'll hover close enough, in the case the drunk tried something; but he knows Red well enough as it is, so he does't expect much from the other guy. In fact, he can't help but smile a little when Lilith manhandles the drunk, his gaze looking over the other patrons nearby, though he's sure that they've witnessed worse before. That's when he notices a somewhat familiar face in the crowd and he tilts his head to the side, "Hecker?"

Watching the entrance, approach, conversation, and unfolding scene with a slow, following arch and turn of her head, Abitha’s eyes seem wide enough to be shouting. Her hand slowly starts digging into a fold of her skirts, grabbing some money from the pocket there, dropping an Andrew Jackson on the bar and uttering a quiet, “Nope.” She was already hopping down from her stool. Not her scene. No sir. Even with two drinks in her, the instant anxiety conflict caused had her jumpy and ready to go.

Her eyes snap to James, “Yeah, uh, nice to meet you, Froggy-I-mean-James. I own the Control Pad.” That might have actually been a real flub, like she had nicknamed him in her head already and was forced to remember that people called people by people names, not comical summaries of what made them stand out. The entire sentence was rattled off quickly and monotone, the stiff speech of someone out of their depth. She’s all about turning like she’s about to walk out, stopping, whirling quickly to grab up her scarf with an awkward step back, and making for the exit.

"Ow! I'm an old man, quit beatin' on old men! 'sides, you got moneybags standin' here on the come up from mowin' lawns, have him buy your drinks and leave me al--" Lilith slugs Red in the other arm while she stands there with Byron, a little quick shot to even up the sides like a schoolyard bully on the older man. It's almost a comical kind of loan shark act and might be a little cute, but she's damn serious and those jabs probably actually hurt while she tries to get the man to comply and sober up with the sting of them and show him tough love. They're apparently years back familiar, as this was one of her father's friends given what comes out of him next with sag, "Goddamnit Lily, if your father were still alive--"

Guys, she hits him again, this time right with a tiny rabbit punch in the chest to make him sit up, "He'd what, drink everything in your pocket that's left and owe you one later? I know you got paid today and what you're doing with it, so gimme something. And we'll keep with the you gimme-something every week you get paid til you're all paid up. Because I am NICE." There's a grumble from the man and Lilith looks at Byron with triumph on her features before she turns some to follow his eyes while Red pull out crumpled twenties. She looks at Abitha fleeing in brief, but it's James she finally settles on as the target. Maybe. She has to squint, facial hair does things to men. Then she says, "Really?"

Quickly, though, she's back on loan sharking because you have to be firm with the drunks, damnit, she learned this at four. She starts to collect the bills he's dropping on the bar without shame, Red sighing out with drunk piss and moan that goes a little emotional in his state, "... I miss 'im, Lilypad."

James blinks as Abitha suddenly makes a run for it. "Uh, yeah, nice meeting you too, Mac-but-not-and-cheese! Remember what I said about the Pond!", he calls after her, because apparently that's the game they're playing, then shakes his head and gives a rueful smile. "Yeah. I've still got it." And then he hears a voice calling his last name, and he turns to look in that direction... and his blue eyes go wide. "Oh, holy fuck. I summoned you.", he says, staring at Byron, just before he spots Lilith over there beating up a drunk. It's been 15 years, but he'd recognize that terifying presence anyway. He shoves his empty glass towards the bartender without looking. "I'm gonna need you to put a double in there, my good man.", he mutters.

The last time James may have seen Byron, he was a tall, lanky kid who could've used a hair cut. He was always working somewhere, whether it be delivering food under the table for various restaurants due to his age or trying to start his own little childhood businesses. Now, he looked completely but together. He was still tall, but no longer really lanky, which means he probably works out some. He still had a bit of a youthful look, despite the neat trim of his facial hair.

"Huh. Didn't realize you were back in town. When did you get in?" He can basically ignore Lilith's antics, though he'll watch the antics between her and Red for amusement. He's not too worried that the other patrons in the bar would be alarmed by this shake up. This was the Pourhouse... and there's rough housing in most bars in town.

"Mmhm. I know, Red." Lilith finally relents being a jerk in the name of business and solid-favors done when it comes to the pawn and loan issue, pulling her hand back to knock through her hair again after she straightens, folds, and pockets the twenties Red doles out. Then she sighs a little and pats him on the shoulder, "Don't drive home. Walk. Hear me? I'll see you next week."

The woman starts to move over to where Byron and James are doing a meet and greet and reacquaintance, then detours and goes for the old jukebox to turn on a few chosen songs since she's here and going to be drinking before a dart out with business handled. As a familiar song plays, she sings along a little bar and half-ass dances her way over to where the former is standing to wrap around him with a playful arm and lean aside from behind to order a drink from the tender while singing along with a verse.

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss...

Mr. Brightside apparently was that first choice on the music player and the line seems to be a fond jab at the dark-haired man as she turns attention to James visually for unabashed study, waiting to pipe in while they make exchange, "I like the beard, gingertastic. Suits. Are you still utterly soulless and stealing the souls of others?" Her lips twitch upward a bit familiar with old fondness, though, when she makes the ginger jab, which he's no doubt heard enough to make him rich if such comments paid.

"Fucking hell. Thorne. Byron motherfucking Thorne.", James mutters, then can't help smiling. He was a short and scrawny kid back in the day, and that hasn't really changed. Really, except for the beard and the tired, haunted look in his eyes (even odds on whether it's caused by the shit he's seen recently, or by the glamorous writer's lifestyle he's been leading). "Couple of days ago. I, uh, didn't actually expect to be back in town. But, uh, my uncle died. Left me the old house in his will. I had to come and get some paperwork done, and, fuck, what are you doing here? I always figured you were too smart to stick around here." A quick glance at Lilith, and a friendly, if mildly terrified, smile. "Hey Lilith. Good to see you again." He quickly averts his eyes. Predators often view direct eye contact as a challenge, and it's best to not antagonize them. "And yeah. I store 'em all in the beard, keeps 'em handy for snacking later."

"Yeah, I heard." Byron murmurs, he should've guessed. "Sorry about your uncle." Like all old friends, Thorne gives the other man this mildly appraising look, somewhat amused by something, which he does come out to say, "You haven't changed one bit. Except for," He'll nod at the man's direction, but Lilith already brings up the beard. "So... what, are you going to sell the old house? Rent it out?" Then he gets to the gist of it all, "I mean, you're not planning on moving back here?"

He then can't help but laugh a bit when some of the comments are directed at himself and this brings a wide smile to his lips, "I own the Bayside Apartments now." Even back when they were still children, it was known as /the/ Luxury apartment complex in town. "I thought it would be a side thing, you know. Get paid rent by tenants but," Here, he shakes his head, "I put a lot of work into the building as it is. Being a landlord isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Especially here."

Lilith drops her arm from about Byron to step and lean on the bar edge with lounge at the small of her back instead of seating herself, taking up the drink that's slid her way. It's just vodka and seltzer with lemons in it, but she apparently had it made a double for buzz and old good times sake, talking to James here. After playing with her stir straw some and taking a drink with tiny bare of her teeth in hiss, she nods her approval at the soul-snacking strategy comment, openly amused.

The brunette was always a bunch of hair and wide blue eyes and that little doll version of slight and pretty, despite the running around unsupervised with a bunch of boys and compensating with a little bit of tough here and there. But she's definitely filled out to picturesque form right there near the dark-haired man in her own form of come up, even if she doesn't have the cash flow bearing to flash around to complete the picture the same way he tends to.

"Place is a terrible siren song, really." Gray Harbor, it always tends to draw people back, doesn't it, "Just came back this past Spring after ten years away, myself." She seems curious as to whether James is deciding to stay or rent or sell, head tilting a tiny smidge with curiosity.

"Well, I do drink a lot more than I did fifteen years ago. And smoke a ton more weed. But other than that, no change.", James quips, passing a hand over his head to indicate his (lack of) height. "And, holy shit, you own Bayside now? Nice! I mean, I don't wanna brag, but..." He gives and exaggerated stretch. "I was doing very well for myself back in NYC. Why, I had a whole studio apartment to myself for only $2k a month, and in the kind of neighborhood where the rats only beat you up for your lunch money once, maybe twice a week at most." He chuckles a bit at Lilith's words, and takes a sip of his whiskey- nothing fancy, well liquor is good enough for him. "I don't really know, yet. On my way here, I figured I'd just sign the paperwork, then find a half-decent real estate agent and have them sell the house. But now I'm here and... did that happen to you too, when you came back? The, like... deluge of memories. It's crazy. All the old memories. I never figured I'd be back here, y'know, and now I am and it's the weirdest thing."

Lilith can lounge all she wants, but Byron takes a seat at the bar. All he cares about is a beer at the moment, nothing fancy for him either this evening. "NYC, eh? I lived in L.A. for eleven years and Lilith here ran off to Miami. Looks like we all had a little taste of the big city for a time." Once a bottle of beer is pushed his way, he cracks it open, "$2K/month. That's about the lowest months rent for one of my apartments." No, he's not trying to brag. He's stating facts! Okay, there's a bit of bragging. "Where in the city? Harlem? Uptown?" In his mind, he's trying to gauge the price point to locations that he knows of...

"So what was it that you did in NYC?" He asks, his tone filled with curiosity before his gaze moves to Lilith at what she says. After his second sip, he licks at his lips, looking thoughtful, "I know the feeling. Everything I touched brought back," Bad "Memories."

Lilith thinks about James' question for a moment before tilting her head, answering a little slowly, "It... is hard to explain. It's not so much that I forgot, I guess, personally, but it was more very out of sight, out of mind with the results of life here in the forefront and not the reasons? So when I came back, it... I don't know, I didn't think about it much, I just knew and acknowledged more, then... it hit me like a ton of bricks in a few different ways to reacquaint, I guess." She draws in a little breath and looks at Byron with a tiny twinge of smile before taking a larger drink, carrying on for James, "Byron's name was in an ad, but before we could ever meet up proper again, found each other over Tobin's prone body in a bit of an ah. Spook moment, go figure. Best accident I've had in a long while, though."

Then one of her father Hank's old regular Pourhouse friends, this one named Bo-Bo somehow, because all his friends were classy like that (the man's last name is Beaufort), he comes up and yells at Lilith to 'come dance with him, Lily!' because apparently, him and a few others were watching her lay into Red with great amusement before and he wants to antagonize her. But, after a surly roll of her eyes, she listens to the song playing Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac and... she takes her good mood back after all that contemplation because after the past few weeks, she's owed it, damnit. And the old guys are familiar in absentia of her father, despite their fraught relationship back when and forever until he died this past year.

On her way out between tables to dance with the drunk middle-aged bearded man that looks like half-a-lumberjack, she pats a hand in brief against Byron's back to let him talk through the few minutes of the song with James. And she's far too lovely and spritely of a dancer for the guy to really keep up with, a little freeform piece of movement like a gypsy herself while she lets loose for a small spell for nostalgia's sake with a quiet half-laugh when he spins her. And she really does kind of look content in that moment, not so much for her partner, but because of the song and the motion and release of it.

James nods at Byron and Lilith's stories, seeming a little reassured to know he wasn't the only one having trouble re-adjusting. "Yeah. I mean, it's only been three days for me so far, but they've been doozies. I was actually just talking to that girl I scared away about the old Adventurer's Guild, right before you two showed up! Crazy." And then Lilith's heading off to dance, and his gaze lingers after her- not really in a longing way, but more a kind of nostalgia. "... damn.", he murmurs to Byron, and that appears to be about as much as he's willing to say about the terrifying heartbreaker spinning around to the music over there before he returns his attention back to Byron. "Oh, y'know. Bit of this, bit of that, spot of bartending, did Uber for a while, wrote a book, temp jobs here and there, y'know, the usual."

Yes, Byron saw Abitha here, but hers was not a face he'd recognized. "Who was that anyway?" Not that he knew everyone in town, obviously. "Seemed the both of you were in some deep conversation before I interrupted it." Thorne wears this little grin, head turning in James' direction once the question is asked. "Why would you--" He then starts, his brow furrowing, "Mention the Adventurer's Guild." If James recalls, Byron stopped playing D&D or anything with the group after his father's death, when Byron was twelve. He had work to do.

If Beaufort didn't catch his attention when he invites LIlith to a dance, Lil slipping away does, Thorne's posture shifting to get a better view of her on the dance floor. Even as he watches her, he carries on a semblance of conversation, "You are definitely not alone." Whatever that means. He idly listens to James rattle off his various jobs, something which Byron was familiar with for most of his life-- well, especially when he was still going to school, before graduation. Then something piques his interest, gaining him the other man's dark eyes now, "A book huh? What did you write?"

James says, "Said her name was Mac. Think she was making fun of me for being a different type of nerd than her, owns a store. Video game store I think.", James says, pausing a moment before adding, "She seemed nice. Thought I was crazy and I'm not sure she was wrong, but, y'know, other than that pretty much fine." He chuckles a bit at Byron's reaction to the mention of the Guild. "Oh, we were talking about the kinds of games we liked, so I brought up D&D, 'cause, just like my high school clothes, I never outgrew it entirely." He leans back onto the bar, taking a sip of his whiskey before chuckling at Byron's words when they're both watching Lilith going forth to bewitch. But then The Question is asked- the book. He ducks his head. "Oh, it's just a shitty urban fantasy thing. Sold like a single copy, massive failure, did wonders for the old self-esteem.""

"A video game store? I'm usually way too busy to play anything myself lately, but I've got myself a PS4 that's just sitting there. Nevermind the PC games." Sure, Byron is a hot-shot entrepreneur and landlord now, he used to play games as a kid. "So it was a tabletop roleplaying vs video games kinda conversation then? I mean, not gonna lie, I wouldn't call it /not/ flirting." Taking another swig of his beer, he nods slowly, "Hey, at least you got something under your name, right? I'm usually trying to lure some of my wealthy clients and busy partners to rent a vacation home in one of my buildings. Most of them write part-time or have aspirations-- usually detective or thrillers."

He then pauses, "You know, I have this festival coming up, around Halloween. It's week long, town wide all with a Venitian-esque Masquerade theme. So, to be truthful, you arrived just in time. If you can swing it, stop by at some of the scheduled events. I'm sure... nothing will go wrong." There's a lift of his brows when he says this, his eyes just partially staring out at the dancing Lilith as he lifts the bottle to his lips again.

Lilith comes back after a good few excessive spins from her middle-aged dance partner once he figures out it makes her laugh and she can keep up. Then the song's over replaced by another and he releases her to go back to her friends and she to her own, ZZ Top's La Grange a little less danceable. She grabs up her drink after falling into a leaned posting on the bar edge again, kissing Byron on the cheek right before she does so with lingering lean in her little spell of good mood with affectionate doting, then she looks at James after drinking with shameless plug, "You know, I own the pawn now, if you stay in town and want a part time or full time gig while you get settled or do whatever with yourself, let me know." She may not have heard the writer part, but she knows he was always into it and he hardly looks like he has a professional career and she could do with the help, so it's out there!

The woman does overhear about the festival, though, when she comes back close on the tail end of the conversation, batting her lashes a few times indicatively at Byron while bragging, "Byron's essentially the master of life and everything now, grew up damn fine, didn't he? The festival is going to be something else. I get a pretty pretty princess dress and a swan-style artsy costume mask to go with it, so honestly, even if things go all wrong, it's fine, I'll be happy."

Then she mentions, "Kevin is here too, works for the paper, ran into him yet?"

There's a mild flush of color to James' cheeks as Byron pronounces his interactions with Abitha to, possibly, be flirting. "I don't think that was flirting. I was trying to warn her about the frog up by Gray Pond, and I was trying to drink myself into forgetting that selfsame frog, and I think she changed the topic to games because dire warnings from crazed beardos about frogs was too weird, which, frankly, I gotta agree with. Plus you'll notice she kept a 2-barstool distance between us at all times, which means she was both pretty and smart, because I'd keep a 2-barstool distance from myself at all times if I could, tell you that much right now." He sips his whiskey, glancing over at the brunette dervish dancing away over there. "Out of my league, old friend." He takes another sip of his dwindling cheap whiskey, and perks up at the mention of Halloween shenanigans. "Well, I'll probably still be in town for that, sure, why the hell not. Sounds like fun, honestly." Lilith's offer of employment upon her return gets a slightly startled look from him. "Well... I wasn't planning to stick around long enough to need to pick up a job, but... turns out my dear old uncle was a bit of a hoarder. S'gonna take me a while to get that house ready to sell. Might take you up on that, Lilith. Thanks.", he says, looking like he means it. And then she mentions Kevin, and his jaw drops. "Wait. Kevin too? Fucking hell. No, I haven't bumped into him yet!", he says, then gives a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Wow. Thi is kinda nuts. I mean, right?"

If Byron finds anything strange about this talk of frogs, there's this subtle curiosity in his eyes when he looks James over. "The frog up by Gray Pond?" Just the mention of the Gray Pond is enough to sober him up some. As much as he was teasing and prodding his old friend about the video game nerd, he knows enough about when to stop with the jokes. He then nods, taking another sip from his bottle, "Kevin's here. Tobin never left--" Licking at his lips now, before biting down on his bottom lip in thought, he murmurs, "I guess you weren't here, but Tobin's mother vanished during our senior year. That's the real reason, I figure, that he never even left town."

"As for myself." He voice becomes clearer, "Just call it a lot of hard work, hustling and luck. Unless, you're not talking about how I came to afford the Bayside Apartments." Here, he just has to laugh. "Yep, the festival is going to be something. It's a way to put the town on the map, draw in tourist. Things of that nature."

Lilith looks at Byron for a contemplative moment after draining her drink and the brief kiss, then presses her lips flat before looking off toward the tables and some of the older drunk guys across the way cutting up, eyes distracted. Her features go a little withdrawn and she drops her lashes to pick out some ice to eat while listening to him and James talk, eventually sliding the glass away and piping in again, seizing a little late on the fact that a hoarder house might be a fun thing for her to pick through with James, depending on exactly what was hoarded, at least given her line of business, because she says, "Hey. If he hoarded anything good I can restore it and profit from it for you. So keep an eye out, you never really know what's worth something. Maybe I'll have some time to help. Need to... clean out the trailer, myself, to get it rented, isn't being used anymore."

"Strange things are afoot at the Pond, my friend. Mark my words. Strange, amphibian things.", James mutters into his whiskey before downing the last of it and motioning to the bartender to get him another one. "... the bugs ain't anything to sneeze at either. Which reminds me...", he adds, more to himself than anyone else, and he digs around in his pocket until he pulls out a pack of cold meds. The good stuff, the kind you need to show an ID to purchase. He pops a pair of pills and downs them with a swig of whiskey when the drink arrives. "Hell. Kevin and Tobin and Byron and Lilith. Decade and a half later. Find us a creepy clown and you've got yourself a bestseller, tell you that much right now." He leans back. "Sorry to hear about Tobin's mom, though. You two, though, damn. I go and grow up, and you two go and glow up. " He grins at Lilith then. "Well, you say the word, you can come over to the old place and help me pick through the mountains of crap. Mostly old newspapers, which, y'know, considering my parents burned to death in that house, well, just seems insensitive of my dear old uncle to turn the place into even more of a fire hazard. May the bastard rest in peace." He lifts his drink in a mock toast, and then takes a long swallow.

"Good to know." Byron says with a slow nod just as he's about to finish up his beer, regarding the Pond. He keeps a steady watch on James, just having to wonder what exactly went on there now. With Lilith joining them again, he drapes an arm around her, though his attention seems to be on Hecker's medication. It's rarely a good idea to take most any meds with liquor. "You feeling okay? I mean, the flu was going around earlier, so watch out for that."

He then turns to flash Lily a smile, before playfully ruffling up her hair, "And if you guys need any help with rummaging through your things, if time permits, I'll lend a hand. We could make a day--- of it." He's now thinking twice about this idea, especially with what happened the last time he got friends together to help another friend clean up.

If anything, Byron remembers the fact that James' parents died. That was probably the reason why he left. However, he's not about to even attempt to dredge up what could be bad memories for the guy. "To your uncle, who lured you back to this place like a sucker." He smiles broadly when he says this.

"Yeah. Could work." Lilith murmurs to Byron, knitting her brows a touch at the hair ruffling when it pulls her from vaguely withdrawn and distracted state with a few bats of her lashes, then she reaches to tap her glass for the tender to put another splash of vodka in so she can toast. She doesn't comment on James' parents, though she knows, of course, and she had her own dysfunctional family member drawing her back too to clean up a mess that ended up getting her stuck, so... after lifting her glass and stealing a glance over across the bar at some of the patrons, then maybe just the joint and all the memories that go with it in general she sets up for the toast on the man's behalf, "Don't kick yourself too hard about having to come back. There's good with the bad, sometimes. To your uncle and your big scruffy ginger-beard return, killer."

James smiles at Byron's warning about the flu. "Nah, just woke up with a scratchy throat, figured I'd just double-kill it with meds and disinfectant. Whiskey kills germs, that's just science. And you know what they say about colds: ignore a cold and it'll last seven days, but treat it and it'll be gone in a week." He doesn't seem too broken up about the mysterious fire that took his parents away, and indirectly sent him away from town- but it's been long enough that maybe that wound's mostly scabbed over by now. And then there's the toast to his uncle and he laughs, lifting his drink. "Thanks, Lilith. And you too, Byron. I mean that. To old Uncle Dan. For bringing the gang back together." And then he drinks.