2019-10-25 - Building a Garden and Other Stories

It's a cool evening, the earlier rain having cleared out some of the humidity, leaving the park mostly empty. But mostly isn't completely, and there's at least one person here doing something industrious! Which, in this case, is Juniper.

She has a cordon set up between four trees, quite widely spaced apart, a few hundred meters at least. By a cordon, we mean a bright green string at about two feet off the ground - bright enough to see, low enough to step over. She has a number of other strings stretched out along the grass, these ones red in colour. There appears to be.. measuring going on.

Itzhak shows up, walking past the park. He's spending a few minutes outside while the rain temporarily abates. (Long-term residents don't tend to bother. They know it'll start raining again while they're out.) A tall, lanky guy with curly black hair and quite a sizeable schnozz, he's got a lit cigarette and he's here to stick that schnozz into things. Juniper measuring things makes him come over, curious as a cat who wants to supervise. "What's the story?" he says to her, in an abrasive New York accent that could scour pots.

This festival was his baby though Byron Thorne didn't really have the time to oversee all of the preparation being put into it to see the entirety of the town transformed into something resembling Venice during the Carnival. Who knows what the townsfolk can muster up. The autumn air is chilly, so on top of his suit and tie, something which he's wearing because this is more of a business trip, he's tossed on a heavy gray coat to protect against the cold and possibly the rain when it starts up again. His hands are covered in black gloves and in one of them, he carries a briefcase with a black umbrella tucked under his arm.

He just recently arrived on the scene as well, looking to be talking to another shop owner on his phone, "I don't mind your decorating with typical Halloween fare, but this isn't your typical Halloween event. Sure, once I'm finished here, I'll come and check out what you've accomplished." Even as he speaks, he's watching the young woman do her work, which is probably why he's here. Not to watch her in particular, but to observe the park be transformed into something more whimsical and dreamily odd.

"'sup honey," Juniper calls back over her shoulder at the sound of Itzhak's voice, not bothering to look back and see if it's someone she knows. It isn't. "Just takin' some measurements for a thing for the masquerade, nothin' to worry about." Because obviously the first emotion people feel when they see bright green and red strings all over is worry. Her own accent is rather different; southern-ish, New Mexico if anyone would pick it up. "Hey, can you see my laser spirit-level back there? It's the toy train lookin' thing on the tripod. Pass it over?"

"I know what a laser level looks like," Itzhak says, annoyed that Juniper could insult him so. But he gets it and hands it over to her anyway. He has tattoos on his knuckles that are obvious when he holds out the level. 'DOWN' on this hand. The other's in the pocket of his peacoat. Byron catches his attention and he upnods to him, warily because he's still not sure what he thinks of Byron. "Sup, boss."

This was Byron's first time using Itzhak as a mechanic, but he came highly recommended by a childhood friend; not to mention that his Rolls was more than just a little dinged after a particular incident not too long ago. "I'll probably stop by within the next hour? If not, I'll give you a call." He'll just assume that Itzhak is here helping with festival set up as well! "You're a busy man, Rosencrantz." He scans the area curiously, expecting to find August around here somewhere. "Is Roen here as well?" He even flashes Juniper a smile now, perhaps the question was posed to both.

This festival was important, but so was his car! So he has to ask, "I just got back from Seattle earlier today. How are things going with the Wraith?" With some annoyance in his voice, he mutters, "That bastard had my hood ornament protruding through its chest. We gathered what parts we could, so I'm hoping that you can get it looking brand new." The entire hood of his Rolls was crushed during that event.

Hearing a second voice, Juniper pauses in her work, rising from her knees and brushing wet grass from her legs. As her eyes settle on Byron, she seems mildly surprised - someone in a suit, in the park, at this time of night? There may be a hint of suspicion in her gaze, but then he mentions someone else's name.

"Hmn? Oh, no, he's not here. I was just taking some preliminary measurements, to draw up a design with," she tells Byron, then turns to take her laser level from Itzhak, flashing the grumpy schnozz-owner a smile. "Thanks hun." She doesn't seem to have realised he's annoyed. I mean, how would she know he knows what the tool looks like?

Of course, Juniper couldn't know, but that doesn't stop Itzhak from being crabby about it! He is a super reasonable kind of guy like that. He gives Byron a funny look; he's not busy, he's loitering disreputably. "Nah, Roen ain't here." The mention of the Wraith makes him whoosh out a rueful breath. "Man, it's somethin' else. Should be good real soon, just waiting on some parts to get in. Have her lookin' like new." Or so is his boast!

At least the woman knows who Roen is, so Byron figures she works for the man's company. She might be busy at the moment, but it's natural for him to extend a hand in a formal greeting, "I can't wait to see the end results. Byron Thorne," He introduces himself, "The mastermind behind the whole festival." There's a lift of his brows, "In truth, I'm not 100% sure whether this can be done, but I was willing to give it a shot. Help boost up the town's flagging economy." If she's far too busy to return the greeting, he'll simply lower his hand. It's a reflex to shake on it, alright!

Yes, Thorne looks pretty proud when it comes to his car. Which is why when he watched it get crushed under the pressure of a falling star, of all things... it was devastating. "Glad to hear. You came highly recommended." Itzhak probably knows by who, since Joey Kelly talked him up some. "I expected for it to take a while with the need for replacement parts. Driving around in something else, however? It's pretty painful. But a Benz will have to do."

Oh, the hand gets shaken; Juniper's fingers are stained brown and green from mud and grass, but she doesn't seem to mind messing up Byron's fingers in turn. Serves him right for wearing a suit. Along with the shake comes a cheerful smile. And, since she's pausing to talk to some passers-by, she lights herself up a cigarette. "It's gonna be beautiful," she promises the festival sponsor, and then gives her name as, "Juniper Wilson. Landscaper." She glances curiously across to Itzhak, but doesn't prompt him to join the great name amnesty.

Itzhak rolls his eyes, a real good one too, getting his whole tall frame into it. "Sure, a Benz will have to do." Dry as a place that's not here. He shoots Juniper a surprised eyebrows-up look. "Oh, ya Juniper? Roen told me about you. Said we should meet. Well here we are. 'm Itzhak." He pronounces his name like 'itz-hock', with the faintest little feather edge of a buzz on the 'zh'. It's a very unEnglish-sounding name.

It's a good thing that Byron's wearing gloves, though it does mean he'll have to wipe the grime off them as well, but he doesn't seem overly perturbed. And hey, the park is right near Downtown, of course he's wearing a suit! He comes here often for lunch.

Thorne is mostly joking about the Benz, but he probably did rent one for the time being even if Gray Harbor is small enough that you could get from one point to another by walking, but that takes time. And the weather's getting pretty bad as of late.

"So, Miss Wilson," He starts, eyes looking at what exactly the woman is doing as she takes measurements and that sort of thing, "Do you have any idea of what Roen has planned here? I'm just a little nosy and I love hearing about everyone's take on what's Carnival or what's dream-like whimsy."

Walking around in the park at night? Well, at least it's not raining. Alexander looks scruffy in his oversized army jacket and thrift shop clothing, but he also looks industrious. Or possibly insane. Because he's definitely muttering to himself, low and rapid, and whatever he's speaking isn't English, although as he gets closer to where the other three are, they might recognize it as Latin. He's looking down at his phone, expression intent as he flips through a series of pictures or documents or something on the screen. At the moment, as focused as he is, he hasn't noticed the three of them, but he is heading directly towards the things Juniper has laid out.

He should probably stop before he gets there.

"Oh, yeah? Itshack?" Juniper is not so good with pronnouncing Hebrew-derived words, and it shows. "Nice to meet you, honey. We'll have to catch up, have drinks or something," she promises the New Yorker then, before smiling at Byron. "Ah now, you wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would you?" she comments teasingly, as yet giving away nothing of the grand design because she's briefly diverted by Alexander's unfocused approach. "Hey, guy with the phone, watch out for the strings!" she calls towards him, though honestly if he trips and falls, well, she tried.

"'Ock', on the end. Like Doc Ock?" Itzhak suggests, more or less helpfully. He makes a face at 'dream-like whimsy'. "My dreams ain't been so whimsical." Then Alexander shows up, trucking along and in his own head like usual, and Itzhak hastily moves to intercept him. He steps in front of him so Alexander collides with him instead of strings should he keep going. "Hey, wake up, Sleeping Beauty, ya gonna ruin the layout." Yet that irascible tone is fond.

Since this is his project, Byron doesn't look like the type of man who would want to be surprised by the outcome, in truth. But he'll offer a very slow nod anyway and a smile to go with it in response to the teasing, "There are so many answers to that, but the last time I spoke to Roen, I believe we were both on the same page." At the comment regarding non-whimsical dreams, he smiles even more, "I hear ya. Still, it's the mood I'm conveying, blending this in with Halloween so the wearing of masks is something most would have prepared for." Clearing his throat, he adds, "I'm hoping that it helps the town's tourism. If successful, City Council will agree to allow us to hold this every year."

Is that Alexander wandering absently in their direction. Yes, it is. Byron wasn't avoiding the man per se, but he also didn't return particular text he'd received, even after having returned back to town. Should he say anything about what Alexander may be walking into? The others have already raised the alarms and Itzhak's even stepped in front of the man's path. So all that Byron can do is watch and see.

"...homicidio per consequens possibilia sunt..." There's a skid to a halt as Itzhak steps in front of him. Alexander's internal radar for people is much better than it is for things. Also much more defensive. He takes an immediate step back and frowns up at the taller man in that moment before he recognizes the shape of him and the voice in the oncoming dark. The frown flips completely around to a bright smile, and he jabs the screen before saying, "Hello, Itzhak. How are you? What?"

Now, he looks around, blinking at the strings. "There weren't strings here when I came this way before. What's going on?" He turns to look at the other two. Juniper is given a narrow-eyed study. "I don't know you," he informs her, bluntly. "Who are you?" Thorne is noticed, and noticed with an edge of exasperation, but he doesn't do anything but nod at the man, yet.

"Itshock?" Closer, Juniper, not perfect but she's trying! She smiles vaguely at the schnozz-owner, then turns back to Byron, her smile shifting to slightly sheepish. "August has a design in mind. Canopies and trellises, water features, subtle lighting amongst the plants, possibly also a maze," she summarises softly to the sponsor, hoping her voice doesn't carry far enough to spoil the surprise for other people. Though then again it's night, there's not much other noise, and she's not exactly whispering.

Then, Alexander has the temerity to question her strings. "I? Am working here," she informs him in an arch tone, with a raised brow to boot. "Taking measurements and setting out plans for the garden part of the masquerade. Also, watching where I'm going."

"Hey, pal." Itzhak smiles at Alexander, crow's-feet appearing at the corners of his hazel eyes. "I'm okay. Thanks for helping Roen out the other day, yeah?" He jerks his head at Juniper. "This's Juniper. Great name, by the way," he adds to her. "Juniper, this is my buddy Alexander. Don't call him Alex or he'll make that face at you."

See, it's a good thing that Byron just addresses Itzhak as Rosencrantz. It's much easier on the brain. When Juniper actually relays August's plans, the festival planning type person looks rather surprised. He'd given everyone instructions, but a maze? He even says this outloud, "An actual maze? Now that will be interesting." He gives Addington Park a quick survey, trying to imagine where the maze would be built and how tall and made of what kind of shrubbery. That sort of thing. "I'm impressed." He doesn't tack on 'If he can pull it off', but that's exactly what he's thinking!

He'll them come out say in greeting, "Clayton. My apologies for not getting back to you earlier. Once I got back into town, my phone was off the hook." That's probably not a lie.

Alexander gives Itzhak a puzzled look. "No need to thank me for that. We're friends. I think." Most of his attention is on Juniper, though, wary and judge-y. "Juniper. That's half a name," he complains, to no one in particular. "Alexander Clayton," he adds, like he's showing her (or possibly Itzhak) how many names are part of an actual introduction. He steps to the side so that he can see the things she's working on, better. "You work with August?" Tally mark in her favor, clearly, by the way the tension in his shoulders decreases. "A garden maze?" Picking up on the conversation as he goes along. "That sounds...interesting." Both intrigue and worry flit across his features. He struggles with saying something else, then gives a sidelong look to Byron, and bites back whatever it was.

Which, clearly, was not about the phone, because that, he rolls his shoulders in a shrug for. "I didn't intend to bother your vacation. It's important, but probably won't get any worse in the next few days or so. I hope it went well? The vacation."

The gardener flashes a bright grin at Itzhak. "Thanks! I got it for my birthday," she chirps cheerfully as he compliments her on her name, taking a few puffs from her cigarette and then looking to Byron, her smile remaining as there's that hint of doubt in the man's words. "It's amazing what you can achieve with potted box hedges," she tells the rich guy with a nod, before her attention is claimed by Alexander.

"Fine. Juniper Wilson," she completes the name, nodding to his question about whether or not she works with August. "Yeah. He's roped me in to doing some of the design and execution for this piece he's planned out for Mr Sponsor over there." A nod to the guy in the suit, Byron. Obviously.

"Alexander Clayton," Itzhak says, taking this correction with a lot more good humor than anything else so far. "Rosencrantz," he jabs a thumb at himself. "You can call me that if you can't handle 'Itzhak.'" The interplay between Byron and Alexander he doesn't miss...exactly...he just doesn't know what the hell to make of it, from the way his eyebrows quirk up funny. First Ruiz, now Byron? He looks at Thorne sideways, brow wrinkled. "Whatever Roen's got in mind, it's gonna be epic." There, that's a safe topic. Probably.

There's this look of quiet amusement when Alexander goes on about the proper way to introduce oneself and how it involves using your first and last name. Byron takes this time to cast his gaze across the way into the horizon, observing the darkening of clouds overhead. It could start raining at any moment. His gaze only lowers once Juniper brings up potted box hedges, "Sounds nice. Don't let me interfere with what needs to be done." He then mutters lowly, "Because the rain will probably be the one doing the interfering at some point."

It's Alexander whom he speaks to now, with this tight smile and a slow shake of his head, "I can't say that my vacation wasn't already ruined before we could get away from town. But that's a story for another time." And something that Itzhak knows more of as he knows the condition of Thorne's car. "Seattle was fine. It was nice to get away from town." It certainly felt a heavy weight lifting off his shoulders the further he got from Gray Harbor, but Seattle wasn't all fun and games. To Alexander he has to ask, "Is everything alright?" As if expecting Alexander Clayton to be the town's protector, but he expects the PI to know most everything that happens in this place.

The smile returns though at what Itzhak says, "I'm sure it will be. I can't wait for the final results."

And at Juniper's full name, Alexander relaxes a little more and offers her a shadowy sort of smile. "Nice to meet you," he says. He even sounds like he means it, although in the very next moment, he visibly twitches at 'Mr. Sponsor'. "That's not his name," he points out without even pausing to think about it, like she might have forgotten. Then he takes a breath, and puts his phone away so he can shove his hands in his pockets. "Sorry. I'm sure it'll be nice. The event. The festival. All that." He doesn't sound sure, but he's trying!

A more genuine, lingering smile towards Itzhak. "Yes. I can agree with that. As long as it doesn't involve setting too many things on fire." It's warmer and more playful than anything.

His attention swings back to Byron, and he frowns. "You stopped somewhere, didn't you? I told you not to. Isabella sped all the way out of town. I thought we were gonna die, but on reflection, it was the right choice. And no, things aren't alright. But nothing's going to explode immediately. Probably." He thinks about it, then nods. "Probably."

"So if you're Rosencrantz, who is Guildenstern?" Juniper asks Itzhak with open curiosity, nodding to his comment about whatever August has in mind. It will indeed be epic. Her smile is turned on Byron now and she confirms, "Oh, don't worry, you won't be interfering." It's a dry assurance, though yes there may be rain. It's October in Washington, after all.

Finishing her cigarette, she acknowledges to Alexander, "It isn't, no. But it is a title, and titles can sometimes be used in place of names." That's her logic and she's sticking to it, even as she turns to set up her laser level, getting it even and placing a little bit of botanist's tape against the nearest of the four trees that serve as the corners of her enclosed space. "Right. If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have trees to mark." Turning her level so that the red line shines on the distant two trees, she takes up her tape and sticks a pencil behind one ear, before tromping off to do just as she's said.

"Never heard that one before," Itzhak deadpans in reply to Juniper. Deadpan but he can really wring some sardonic swoops out of those few words. Well, he's had a lot of practice. Then he lets the woman do her work, with a resigned twitch of his mouth. The Guildenstern joke will always haunt him.

While Alexander and Thorne discuss the preferred methods of fleeing Gray Harbor, Itzhak pulls out a pack of smokes to light one up, listening. "Jesus," he mutters, and cups his hand around the cigarette to inhale the cherry to life from the flame. "When I went to Seattle, none a that happened."

Byron's pretty that Itzhak has heard all sort of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern jokes or comments being made, but it does't stop him from grinning faintly when it's mentioned in his presence to go along with Rosencrantz' response. Nevermind, the rather amusing idea of Alexander pointing out (he likes to point things out) that Mister Sponsor isn't a proper name. He does't really have much to say in response to any of those things, however.

There's this look of curiosity in his own eyes now and a tilt of his head, "Setting things on fire?" That was a Lilith thing, but he knows that August and Lilith share the same power set. He does't know August very well, of course, so the man could have a fiery temper. Get it?

"We stopped somewhere outside of town." Okay, Cracker Barrel it just at the outskirts of town! He then nods over to Juniper when she wanders off to mark some trees or some such, "And then..." He'd bring up what happened to his car, but it's a personal thing to him and something that he's still dealing with, "And this mechanical... minotaur made it's presence known and you know how that ended. It's been dealt with."

"It's not an actual title," Alexander protests, but under his breath, like he realizes that this is a ridiculous argument to be having, but just can't stop himself from having it. Itzhak is given a sympathetic look for the joke, but apparently jokes about people's names are fine under Clayton logic, as long as they don't actually change the name involved. He doesn't say goodbye to Juniper, but he does watch her go towards the treeline, his expression blank and thoughtful. "She must be new to town," he says, to no one in particular.

"Mm," Alexander says to Byron's comment about August and fire, although he doesn't elaborate. Possibly because the words 'mechanical minotaur' have been brought up, and now he's giving Byron a wide-eyed sort of look. "A mechanical minotaur? Really? Were you hurt? Was there a labyrinth or are we talking a less classical rendition of the creature?"

"She's new to town." Itzhak exhales smoke. "She'll learn." He's only been in town since May and yet he feels like a battle-hardened veteran. "Mechanical minotaur? I seen something similar to those before too. That what wrecked your Rolls?" He tries to explain the appearance of the thing to Alexander. "Like a big robot, at least mine was. It was centaur shaped, like had a body with four legs, then a torso with arms."

Well, leave it to the mechanic to bring up his wrecked Rolls in front of Alexander. Byron's attention shifts to watch Juniper work, moving from tree to tree and taking measurements here and there. "It was a mechanical minotaur made up of the parts of vehicles that this star," There's a quick shake of his head now, brows furrowed because that sounds ridiculous when spoken aloud, "This star fell from the sky and crashed into some cars and from their a mechanical monster was formed."

He then clarifies, "No. No maze. But it tries to attack a few people inside of the restaurant." All of that relayed, his interest is piqued by what Itzhak now says, "You've encountered a robotic Centaur? Did a star fall out of the sky to create that one too?" It's not sarcasm in his tone, because he knows what he saw.

"Wait." Alexander's spine straightens. "The Rolls?" He stares at Itzhak, then back to Byron. "It trashed your Wraith?" He runs a hand through his hair and makes a pained grimace. "That was a beautiful car. I'm sorry, Thorne. That...that sucks." Because, really, what else can you say when six figures of car are smashed by a falling star. And then turn into a monster and try to kill you. Alexander looks towards the carousel and says, "This really is a very strange town."

Then he shakes himself, and turns to Itzhak, because Byron's question is one that interests him as well. He adds one of his own, "Were any of the same people at both places?"

"Nah, mine just kicked in the front door and arrested me and Izeleh." Itzhak calls Isolde his Yiddish pet name for her without thinking. "Didn't take us to a maze, but one of those prisons that's sunk in the ground. What's that called?" He puzzles over it a moment. "Like a dungeon but there's another word. Can't think of it. Anyway," and that's when he realizes Thorne may not have necessarily wanted his poor trashed Rolls talked about in front of Alexander. Oh well, too late now! "She'll be a beautiful car again. I'm workin' on it."

Byron knows that his was a beautiful car and the fact that it was in a shop has been on his mind over the course of his vacation. "The hood was smashed, some of the metal melted The thing then crashed into an entire set of bikes from a local MC, I figure. Used the broken pieces of vehicles and made itself a body." With some annoyance, he'll repeat what he'd said to Itzhak earlier, "The Wraith's hood ornament" He doesn't come out to call it the Spirit of Ecstasy, "Was protruding out of its chest." Yes, he was angry when he realized this at that moment.

Once the creature melted into the ground, that was thing he carefully picked up out of the debris.

When told about Itzhak's encounter, it sounded similar to his, despite the different circumstances. He then shakes his head, "I don't know who Izeleh is." He's not even sure if he's pronouncing that correctly, "But Rosencrantz wasn't present. It was a bunch of bikers, the bartender at the local Cabaret," Yeah, he's been in there. "Lilith and bunch of other folk." He doesn't really know Ignacio nor did he make much of an impression at the time of the chaos.

There's another slow nod given Itzhak now. "Thanks. I feel reassured already." This may or may not be true, but the mechanics in town all seem to be able to repair anything.

Alexander's eyebrows go up. "Isolde," and there's a bit of emphasis on the name but, unlike poor Juniper, Itzhak doesn't get snapped at, "told me about that, I think. It's an oubliette. Place of forgetting. Or, I suppose, depending on the design it could have been a panopticon, although panopticons were usually built around a tower design, because hollowing out that much ground is really more of a pain in the ass than anything." He stops. "Not the point. She mentioned that you were both planning to go back to try to free someone still there." He can't keep the worry off his face, but he doesn't say anything more about it.

He winces at the account of the poor Wraith's injuries, but agrees, "Itzhak is amazing with his hands, from what I've seen. I'm not sure there's anything he can't fix, if he puts his mind to it." A pause. "And he's a musician, too. He's very talented." He gives Itzhak a bright flash of smile along with the shameless compliments. His head swings back around though, brow furrowing. "Miss Liven was there? I hope she's well. I'll have to check on her, too."

"Isolde," Itzhak gives in, with a lopsided little quirk of a smile. "She's my..." Uhoh. What is she? Is she his girlfriend? Is he her boyfriend? It's a talk they haven't had because they are both really bad at having that kind of talk. He settles on, "My girl." And reddens a little. And then reddens a lot as Alexander just starts complimenting him out of nowhere. He wrinkles his nose at him and mutters, "Quit it," but he's not too serious about it. "Oubliette. Thanks. One a those. Guarded by those robot centaur things, kinda look like the OR-15s from Overwatch." Not...that either Alexander or Thorne know what Overwatch is, probably. Alexander looks so worried that Itzhak drops the subject of his and Isolde's dreams or why they want to go back.

This is the first that Byron's heard about this oubliette or the Centaurs, but he asks now, "Was this within the Veil? Or a dream?" See, he's not even sure what the hell happened at Cracker Barrel, but dreams felt so real and with so many people affected who did not shine, he's now curious to know what they thought that they saw. He'll assume it's the Veil since there's talks of going back there. Nor does he ask too many questions.

Having been at the funeral, Thorne can easily say, "I know that he's a musician." He witnessed it! Then he looks as if he's about to add something else more along the lines of 'But one usually doesn't go to a musician to have their car fixed', but he does his best to refrain. "And yes, I was at the funeral too, remember?" Even if it's probably a day they'd all rather forget. Liven? Was that her name? If he was ever told, he doesn't recall.

Alexander's worry is replaced with amusement as Itzhak turns so red. "Sorry," he says, at the quit it, but he doesn't really look sorry at all. He looks to Byron. "Isolde's been staying with me for a few months. She's a friend from college." He gives a little shake of his head at Itzhak's attempt to describe the monsters - nope, not an Overwatch player, here, although he's clearly heard of the game.

When Byron brings up that these are things he already knows, Alexander grimaces, and drops his head down. "Sorry." And that sounds actually sorry. "I drank a bit. Afterwards. It's all mostly a blur. I mean. I remember that you were there, and that Itzhak played. But I try not to think about it too much." A pause. "It was beautiful, though, Itzhak. I'm not sure I said that, then. But it was."

Itzhak hesitates, thinking about Byron's question. "Dream. Pretty sure. Just across the border, stuff looks like here." He waves the cigarette, the cherry drawing a glow on the night. "Here, but weird. Deeper, all bets are off. Shit gets wild, anything can happen. So, yeah, Dream." He nods, satisfied with his own explanation.

His eyebrows tilt upwards, yearning, as Alexander tells him his violin's swan song was beautiful. "Thanks," he murmurs, looking at the damp grassy ground. "I worked on it a lot. I miss her so much. Fuck Gohl. May he come kidney stones." He doesn't raise his voice, but there's so much hatred making his tone tight. "Haven't...really played, since then," he adds in a mutter.

Byron may have heard an Isolde mentioned at some point or, perhaps, he only knew her as Alexander's roommate, either way, he nods once more when he's told just who the woman is. It's still someone who he hasn't met no matter how small this town is. He'll still come out to say, after hearing about the ordeal, whether he knows the other person or not, "Glad that you both made it out safe." Though when Itzhak is convinced it's a dream, that seems to intrigue him now, "How do you plan on finding your way back if it's a dream?" Alexander may have recalled Thorne inquiring about something similar a while back.

On the topic of Itzhak's swan song, he's not afraid to admit out loud, "It was... very moving. Not that Gohl was deserving of it, of course." There's this moment where his gaze shoots over at Alexander, before he states, "Then Gohl wins. If we're able to move on with our lives, then we win..." A pause, before he lets out a sigh, "Until we realize what exactly happened that day anyway, when the world seemed to close in on us. But we'll deal with that, if there's something to do deal with, when the time comes."

Alexander hesitates, gathers himself a bit, then reaches out to lay a hand gently on Itzhak's arm. A brief, comforting squeeze, then he lets his hand drop. He doesn't say anything about Gohl, although his expression tightens a bit, and he reaches up to rub at one side of his face for a moment. "That will be an interesting experiment," he says, quietly. "Seeing if you can find your way back to the same dream. I once theorized that dreams were custom made and transient, but then I thought some might persist - but with the idea of the Veil, I'm going back in general to thinking that the lost places are still temporary, made for a purpose. But," he shrugs, "something tells me if you want to get back to one of the places trying to hurt you, then the Shadows will be happy to oblige." A pause. "Just come back. And bring Isolde back, too."

"So far, I ain't found my way back," Itzhak says to Thorne, irritated but not at him but he happens to be who Itzhak is talking to at the moment. "They put us there. They bring us back, because we're their fuckin' milchcows and I'm one of their prize heifers. I'm working on how to get there and back under my own power."

When Alexander puts his hand on his arm, Itzhak's face gets away from him and an expression of intense, longing sorrow surfaces. He swallows hard and drags from the cigarette, trying not to lose his shit. "I won't come back without her," he murmurs. "Swear it." Then his shoulders tighten up and he mutters, "'m out," and walks off, leaving the curl of smoke behind him.

Byron had his reasons for wanting to return to a particular dream, but unlike what Itzhak had described, which was something more personal, the one that Byron is thinking of drew a huge crowd of people into it. That doesn't mean that he can't grudges. Sensing the other man's ire, he doesn't add much more to it, believing that their situations are far too different, despite them both being dreams. Though he does take careful watch of the other man when Itzhak mentions his own capabilities. It's nothing that he'll bring up at this moment either way.

Knowing that Alexander isn't the touchy feely type, he does take notice of the comforting touch placed on the mechanic's arm, his eyes looking between the two but again, he says nothing. "Nervous?" He then asks, "With the date of the Masquerade drawing in close?" Though, really, that's a question people should be asking Thorne. He looks like, he's thinking of wandering off too, the way that he peers down at his watch, but he knows that Alexander had something on his mind.

Alexander frowns when Itzhak's shoulders tighten up, and he looks guilty and sad, clearly rethinking the impulse that led him to reach out to the other man. He shoves his hand in his pocket, but doesn't try to stop Itzhak. Instead, his gaze and a quiet, "Don't die, Itzhak," follow the mechanic as he walks away, and he heaves a sigh.

A startled look towards Byron. "Nervous? No. A little worried. There's a lot of potential for things to go...odd. I think. But people are happy about it, and I hope that it goes well. I do." As Byron peers at his watch, though, he sidles closer to the man, and his expression becomes serious. "We need to talk. I wasn't kidding about that. Maybe at your place? Somewhere private. I think."

Byron is pleased to hear that Clayton hopes that the festivities go well. "You and me both." He'd started work promoting this festival even before the serial killings started, before they even knew how to take Gohl down. Now that Gohl was buried, just in time too, things were supposed to go smoothly. Thorne may display the confidence of someone who believes that their idea is a great one, but he knows full well how unpredictable Gray Harbor is. Dangerously so.

"Thanks."

Oh look, Byron even takes a step forward towards where his rented Benz is parked. That's when Alexander brings up something that he needs to say. "I need to check in with the owner of Radiantly Yours," A local boutique, "She was curious if she was decorating her shop correctly and I told her not to worry about it, but you know how it is." He considers, "We can meet at the apartments in half an hour. I'm sure this won't take long."

Alexander smiles. "You got everyone on board with something like this. That's pretty amazing, honestly. Especially on short notice for an event of such scale. Even if there are some hiccups, it's nice to see." At the mention of the meeting, he nods. "That's not a problem. It'll take me about that long to get there, anyway, and I have some case notes to finish on the way." He lifts a hand. "See you soon." Then starts walking towards the road that leads out to the coast, his head going down and his shoulders hunching.