2019-10-23 - A Seattle Situation: Intrusion

Byron knew about the missed calls from the night before, but Lilith held the flood of texts that came in, as well as the other missed calls before the day out shopping. They were more likely to affect his mood for the day than attempted calls and he was in such high spirits, it seemed, while he showered and dressed to meet with Joey and the others for suit shopping and a meal out. Lilith didn't want to put him in a bitter or worried state, but given the last two messages, it seemed pertinent to show him when they were back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. She doesn't think too much of them, because Grant Turner has been more talk and persisting than action, in most cases, but all the same, she finds it odd he immediately knew she was in Seattle and which hotel she's at.

Despite it, though, they had a very nice dinner at an upscale restaurant and dressed the beautiful couple as ritzy part. They talked about nice things, normal things, small things, odd jobs, old memories, the food, the shopping trip and what to do for breakfast when they woke up. It was easy. Then the pair of them migrated to an upscale cocktail lounge which has a doorman and a dress code, an old throwback to private membership clubs where the upper echalons of Seattle money are known to abide for leisure, cutting loose, and networking. If she's still stuck on the dance planning, she's holding it to spring on him, but really, she imagines after some drinks, they already have alternate late night plans to attend to.

Lilith is wearing a form-fitted slink of black dress with sheer bronzed embellishment between garment-flattered breasts and spanning the ribcage sides. It's a designer number she's wearing with glossy black heels, hair sleek with arranging, cosmetics to a tee. And really, it's not that she's just dressed like that, being city incognito like this with the air of privilege upon her, she's walking and standing and moving like elegant old hat with it all. Byron told her once that she reminded him of a spy, being able to play dress up or fulfill roles to suit the timing, and he's not wrong about it. Once upon a time, when she didn't get to be herself, she was in the habit of presenting herself a certain way for men of power, money, and sometimes consequence.

There's a new-money tech millionaire that's a fairly young braggart on the lounge next to them where they're drinking, and he's talking too much, trying to impress Byron and his confident, striking demeanor. His date is utterly vapid, and Lilith is looking at Byron sidelong with mild amusement here and there, waiting to see how he tells them to fuck off in the most polite way. Mostly, she's low-key asking the vapid blonde date that's gold-digging (clearly) questions to see how clueless she is, for her very own amusement, a Manhattan in hand, legs crossed as she sits by the dark-haired man.

Lilith may not have thought much about the text messages from an unknown sender, but after realizing that these came from Grant Turner, you bet it's a constant thought on Byron's mind during the rest of the day's trip out. He didn't let that get in the way of expressing his enthusiasm for which should be an entertaining day out after the excitement of the evening they'd just spent together. He's often good at hiding his thoughts and his intentions, pretending that he's dismissed it all, his mind already moving forward. In fact, he's the sort to analyze every little thing when it comes to a threat like this. He may be more dismissive of advice given, some times, or information passed on to him depending on the source, but this was Turner, a man who was far more capable of reaching out to Lilith if he wanted to than even Thorne was, only because of accumulated assets and everything documented within their bank accounts.

Suits were bought, thus mission accomplished. After a bit of rest, a shower and tossing on some fresh clothes, Byron is then informed of the last two messages sent, further fueling his suspicions that Turner was merely harmless. Again, he doesn't let it show too much. Then it's off to dinner and drinks.

Wearing one of his more stylish evening attire that one would expect to see on the red carpet rather than at the office, he wears a deep blue suit jacket with matching pair of slacks and black and white patterned shirt beneath. He still opts for a regular tie, this one silver in color, rather than a bow tie. His hair is perfectly slicked back and he carries himself about with that air of confidence that many who know him are used to by now.

Look, if a tech millionaire is chatting you up, Byron will definitely show some interest in what the guy's currently up to just to see if there's a chance to jump on it. He asks a few questions, mentions Gray Harbor, of course, and the upcoming festival says what you'd expect him to tell anyone with money, "You should find some time to spend the Halloween weekend there. It's going to be fantastic." More than likely business cards and exchanged between sips of his dirty martini. He'll even try to flatter the gold digger at the man's side, though will comment to Lilith that he'll give them three years because by then, Byron expects the man to grow tired of her antics and move onto a younger model. When all is said and done, however, Thorne announces to the other couple, "As much as I've enjoyed the company, I have a date with a shipping mogul in five minutes. If you like, I'll toss them your name." There's no shipping mogul.

There's no shipping mogul, Lilith knows that (probably) and she clearly thinks three years is a very generous estimate when it comes to spending time around this vapid blonde woman, as the man is probably fairly intelligent when it comes to things outside of women and social interactions. He's made himself millions with a startup tech invention, afterall, how the hell do men tolerate company like this? The woman is currently telling Lilith about her dog and how she's going to get a miniature dalmation like in the Disney movies because she found a breeder in Europe. Seriously. A miniature. Dalmation. What?

Byron luckily saves the moment, and Lilith resists telling the woman that whatever not-tiny dog with spots she's going to get is probably going to be genetically retarded. People have dreams. (Stupid ones.) Instead, she plays along as a bottle is sent from the bar, even though she didn't order it. She assumes Byron did, but the waiter makes it clear that it's from a kind beneficiary and tells them to enjoy the night. It's horribly expensive bourbon and the brand makes the brunette start staring at the bottle instead of sending off well-wishes with their new acquaintances.

Then on the way off, after the blonde tries to give Lilith a bubbly hug with promises that she'll text her (they didn't even exchange numbers), the tech millionaire salutes a suited man coming up to take his place to standing where he was seated prior near the couple, apparently thinking it's the shipping mogul coming to network Byron next. Lilith is distracted and turned to look at the room instead of right at their lounge, drinking long and pensive from her Manhattan before she even has time to warn or explain.

Because see, she has two dark-haired, handsome men that wear the hell out of a suit now. And the newly arrived one is straightening his own suit jacket before a lean in to start pouring them glasses on the tray with the bottle like he was invited to host them at their own spot. His voice when he speaks nearby, though, makes her jump a little and her legs immediately start to uncross with reflex before pausing with freeze. She suddenly doesn't know what to do with her limbs.

All in all, Byron didn't mind the other couple. He rather enjoys his time learning about other people's business ventures and discussing new ideas is always up his alley. He's good to ignore any discussion about miniature dalmatians when in his mind he only saw puppies anyway. Whether Lilith is paying any attention to what's going on in their immediate vicinity or not, after the other woman's hug attempt and the pair's departure, having known that those two never exchanged numbers, it's Byron who says, wearing an amused grin, "I'll make sure to give Mister Pickler," The actual millionaire guy, "Your number to pass along."

Then another shadow moves in after Pickler and the blonde depart, this one pouring them some drinks like he's one of the help around here. In that instance, Byron knows exactly who it is, perhaps being perceptive enough to having noted the man at some point during all of this or he just has a very good hunch. Either way, he doesn't alert either of them to this fact at first, taking a casual posture within his seat, the newly poured bourbon glass in hand lifts in a toast, "Thanks. And who may I ask is this from?" Yes, he's treating the other man very much as if he were the waitstaff.

The other man then goes on, Byron's piercing dark eyes looking between the two for a brief moment, "Pretty? Now that's an understatement, don't you think? Breathtaking. Ravishing." He could go on. Then the man mentions him by name and this elicits a faux surprise lift of his brows "Yes, I am, indeed, Byron Thorne." He lifts the bourbon glass to his lips for a sip, his eyes never leaving Turner's now. He even smiles, his gaze lowering just a touch when he says, "And you must be Grant Turner, forgive me my error just now."

The look that Lilith had time to shoot Byron when he makes a quip about ensuring the blonde woman with no brains to speak of gets her number via millionaire man toy was pretty brutal, but it doesn't have anything on the look she's giving Grant Turner right now. If this were Gray Harbor and they were anywhere else... naturally, blood and fire is probably the instinct, at least until she catches up with the consequences idea. It's probably hard to hide a social billionaire's body without a trail leading to herself or Byron. And they're in Seattle, so her instincts are more naturally leaned to realizing instead that her gun is in her purse, left in the trunk of the car so she wouldn't have to lug it around or check it in the coat room. Not that she can up and shoot the man either, especially in here.

So instead, after her shock wears off and Lilith is narrowing her eyes to stab him with a hundred daggers from her gaze, she takes the drink from Turner as well, following Byron's lead. He's being so calm, so smooth about this, and it helps a little. It's their disadvantage, of course, being in a public and top tier place where polite and rich society tends to mingle, there's no real way to get rid of the man without causing a scene if he so desires, and she knows this. The man is entitled and will stay right where he wants to be until he decides he's walking on his terms in the end. Mostly, though, she hates the way he looks at Byron. Who is being lovely and complimenting her and though she doesn't quite rub it in that they're there together to try and set company off, there's a space where she leans to kiss what's safe, familiar, and right nearby on the cheek with a hint of charmed affection and gratitude.

And she feels a little better for it. Byron is here, she's not leaving alone, Grant is bound by the same public and social rules they are in here, what can he honestly say or do? After drinking the bourbon she accepts from him, her weight shifts between hips to recross her legs at opposite side in seated position, speaking a touch cautiously and slowly, "Hello, Grant. I'd introduce, but it seems you two have the lay of the land here. Meeting a client, are you?"

Byron's manipulative nature would tease him to use his powers in the here and now if this were Gray Harbor, the idea of manipulation always comes to mind, however, and just like with L.A. he always finds ways to do so without using his powers. Has he forgotten about them yet? The longer he is away from Gray Harbor, the more the strangeness is forgotten, even with his own abilities. This was only the second day.

He can clearly see Lilith's discomfort even if he doesn't hint at this fact overly much and continues to share a drink with the other man. That smile widens across his face when she leans in for that kiss though. At first, he'll make sure that his gaze meets with Turner's, almost as if he were showing off this joy to the other man. Perhaps out of politeness, despite knowing full well what the other man is capable of and has tried to do with Lilith, he'll let that gaze lower. No need to be a complete asshole about it. Quietly, she'll feel a pat at the small of her back. It's a subtle gesture.

See, Byron can play the Boy's Club game all day. He's been a part of it many a times. He doesn't really look on Lilith when he makes his own comments, not seeing her as a piece of meat, himself. That smile lingers and there's a shake of his head, "Lilith does not lack in personality, that's for sure." Those dark eyes lift to Turner once again, "She's full of fire." The glass lifts to his lips for another sip, "I can only imagine how many men she left behind who got burned." Though, at one point, he'd considered himself to be in that particular category, there's still a small tug at the edge of his lips after that comment is made.

Then the website is brought up. He's seen far more than just the website. "It was decent. I think she could hire someone with a far more impressive eye for style to class it up some." His mind immediately goes back to what he'd experienced when in contact with that cord. It seems that hasn't faded from memory yet, no matter how ridiculous it would be to think that you could pick up memories just by touching an object. "You were a regular, from what I recall." He's totally remembering that one moment in time, though he's experienced many. "You really have a way with women."

Maybe it's being away from Gray Harbor and here in Seattle that keeps Lilith from lunging at Turner in the end. But then again, if this were Gray Harbor, she wouldn't even have to get up to throw a tantrum, now would she? Instead, it's probably the pat of hand at her small of back from Byron, because her legs uncross and she leans a little over her lap while looking at Grant's dark and intense gaze leveled her way after he speaks, observing between the pair. Her own blue gaze is glinting darkly, deepening the blue of her eyes with ire and tricks of bar lighting and though she's a little too doll-eyed to fully pull off the intensity the pair of dark-eyed men can generally pull off, she holds her own.

Then, after draining her glass, she uses that lean to refill her glass instead of getting up to hurt the man seated across from Byron throwing subtle barbs. Because really, Byron's response is pretty good without fully rubbing it in. He knows the pride wounding personally, afterall, and Grant Turner has all manner of ingrained ego, among other problems. And he's so calm about the website, the comment about her selling herself. Part of her wants to hurt and take Grant's words to heart. Part of her wants to pride glow with Byron's complimentary presence and capability.

Then leaving Grant to answer with visible steeling, because she knows it's unavoidable, suddenly, given the look of him dipping into a brief moment of agitation with draining drink, she just says, "Camilla let one of the girls do it because it was free. My website design is outsourced these days." For the Pawn. Where... she launders money and fences stolen items. Maybe she shouldn't be talking and uppity like she's a legitimate business person while trying to buck the commentary off, it's just ammo. That and it's not like Byron doesn't know...

Suddenly she dreads what Grant Turner might say. She has no clue what Byron's been gleaning from his abilities using the cord tie she gave him, as she expected he'd burn it when he had a look to understand. She drinks and uses the only ammo she can think to use at the moment, despite being walking deadly on a whim any other time at home. Leaning back to settle, she nestles into Byron's side so he can drape an arm around her, and while she may be a strong and fierce piece of woman, all told, right now?

Lilith wouldn't mind at all looking utterly owned by Byron just to stick it to Grant. She doesn't overdo it, but she doesn't have to. People have continually noticed or commented on the general 'something' that has always been between them, then and now, and proximity only enhances it naturally.

Feeling the way in which she takes comfort against him, Byron does drape an arm around her to draw her in close to him. Is a natural reaction, but with the man's confidence and his piercing gaze which, in itself, could look like he's tossing down a challenge of his own from time-to-time, in a far subtle way than Turner does, this really could just be Thorne's lording over the fact that Lilith Winslow was his.

This is when Turner decides to return fire once more, bringing up Vivian of all things. "Permission?" He asks with an arch of a brow , like the very idea was baffling. That grin on his face widens once more as he finishes up the rest of his bourbon, setting the glass back down without a refill. "That's not a word I'd expect a man like you would believe in." Then he has this look like he's think: 'pfft, Permission? Really?'

"I'm not entirely a selfish man and trying to wrangle to firebrands can be a handful." He turns towards Lilith, leaning in close to first playfully nuzzles against her cheeks with his nose before kissing her at the side of her lips. "I've made my choice." A pause when he looks back to Turner, "I wouldn't recommend it though. One is more than enough." He resettles back to a semi-casual posture withdrawing just a tad, while keeping his arm around Lilith. "She chooses to forget that? Well, whatever the lady wants, the lady gets. Especially, this one." Does he believe that the two were dating? It doesn't seem to matter at the moment. "Anyway, I thank you for the drinks and it's a pleasure to finally get a chance to meet with you. After hearing so much about you, I didn't know what to expect." All of this is bullshit of course. "We'll be in town for another day or so. I tell you what, if you'd like to go out and do something at some point before we leave, a double date. Hit us up. You have our number."

Lilith can be a pretty chill individual by will, force, logic, or natural temperament a good half of the time and it's nice. She could have the wits to make some technical corrections to effect because Grant is kind of good at telling the truth with a spin. But the other chunk of her is the goddamn problem more often than not, so it's maybe not unexpected that the woman goes deadly still and silent for a good few heartbeats, like a snake that's been coiling all the while on the sly and is now ready to make a strike for Grant Turner. But while the urge is there, her reflexes are different. Yes, her lashes drop and her fingers curl around her bourbon glass, but it doesn't go sailing. Somewhere through the internal white hot fire of rage about the man coming here just to antagonize her for not answering, for tearing her down, for looking at Byron like he wants his body in the bay...

Dimly, she hears Byron speaking with delay, his familiar smooth and masculine burr of voice piercing that internal fury haze. She feels his arm again, then she actually hears what he says to Turner in response to one, then another barb like a verbal fencing riposte. Then it sinks in that he's kissing her affectionately, it sinks in what his words mean outside the context of this entitled billionaire (and narcissistic psychopath) here in front of them. And all that fury just shuts down. She's happy, not in a celebratory way, but in a relieved way that seeps through and assuages some of her self-esteem fears and built-in worry, the part of her that was ready to hurt just to feel a piece of what she threw away for as long as it lasted and atone throughout.

Grant Turner has everything but her. Her affection for Byron and sudden bout of contentment in a heap of shit is her ammo. She doesn't even have to fake it or try hard at all. She lets all that happiness out with a flush of subtle, but poignant glow when Byron shifts to making the offering for a double date (effective bullshit). She mirrors the kiss he laid at her cheek and the edge of her mouth prior with nuzzle of nose tip first, then three soft, feathering kisses in succession until he's finished speaking.

Lilith is not afraid of Grant Turner. But given the look in his eyes when he watches both of them like that, maybe she should be.

"Grant, it was lovely running into you."

The woman may be rubbing it in, but despite the graceful parting words, there's a finality and firmness behind them that lets him know when he's dismissed and enough is enough.