2019-11-14 - Creepers Be Creepin'

You might think when Lilith pulls up to the Steelhead Service Center that she's coming to check on Byron's car for him while he's working or give him a ride there to get it himself, but no. She's a daring little thing, but touching a man's Rolls is not a thing she's about to do when it's not even been had for his inspection outside of the shop. Granted, she could accidentally break or scuff something and imply it happened in the shop, but she's not so desperate to drive it she's going to be a huge dick about it. No, no, she'll bide her time for a day of ass-kissing her way into it legitimately one day. One day.

She's actually parking her new year pearl white Acura RDX outside the roll door so it's accessible, but not pulled in for work-work or appointment drop off. After getting out, she steps into the shop to wonder, "Itzhak? Busy busy? My car's fine, but..." A pause, "I was wondering if you could check for something else on it."

It's going to be kind of awkward to breach the idea she has a stalker, but whatever. Ever since she started getting phone pinged from Unknown numbers within an hour of being in the Seattle metro area a couple of weeks or so ago for brief vacation with Byron when his car came in for repair, she has suspicions and they won't stop nagging her. Today's fall weather has her in leggings with slouch boots and some white and black layer tanks under a long open sapphire cardigan, hair twisted up with cosmetics downplayed to mere pretty accent, casual chic.

Itzhak is working on a motorcycle in bay one, open to the fine if chilly fall day. He's on his knees, wearing coveralls, doing...something...to the bike, which is a handsome vintage Triumph. When Lilith pulls up, he looks over, scowling suspiciously, but his expression relaxes when he realizes it's her. "Yeah." He gets up. "What's goin' on?"

It's not long before August's Outback pulls up, mud splattered all over the undercarriage and up the sides. Living on a barely-maintained road has its downsides. He gets out, winces as he does so, shuts the door. A pause to note the presence the Acura--there's a customer afoot, don't go calling out anything embarrassing or strange. But then he spies Lilith, so strange and embarrassing shit is back on the menu.

He's in his black leather jacket, with a dark blue Henley and pale denim jeans worn nearly to white, and his work boots. He shoves his hands in his pockets, gives Itzhak an upnod and Lilith a small smile. And then he eyes the motorcycle. "Damn," he says, either about the bike, or the damage. Maybe both.

"Well."

Well. How to start. Fuck it. Are you supposed to have pride issues about admitting you have a stalker? She's only really told Byron before he finally got the real firsthand experience here lately as to how far it goes. So opening her mouth to out it here... that odd pride pauses her and flares up like a defense, the idea that she might be hunted by a predator in a sense, or vulnerable, standing here confessing that. Then she thinks about how weird that is during her beat of pause. That's not a reflection on her, right? You know, other than attracting narcissists and obsessives and violent psychopathic/sociopathic people here and there like her own damages are a quiet beacon of moth to flame attraction.

It might be a reflection on her, actually. Fuck. But hey, August is here and that's a nice distraction to get her less inside her own head and more toward talking. He might have some flower-related clues to put together with what comes out of her next, anyway, given he's reaped the benefits of her being stalked this summer. After a quick smile of greeting and a semi-fond verbal, she looks back at Itzhak to explain with a breath puffed over her lips, "Heeeeey you."

"Okay, so like. How big are car trackers nowdays and where are they generally placed if someone presumably only has outer access, or limited inside access with no keys or visible tampering?" She looked, she did, she watched a youtube video even, but it was kind of useless. You can't really learn everything from youtube, regardless of claims. After a beat of pause, she clarifies, "I need my car checked for a tracker because I attract bullshit."

And psychopaths, apparently. Probably not a reflection on Byron. Probably.

Itzhak just stands there, wiping his hands on a rag, staring in bemusement at Lil while she works on telling him what the hell she wants. He stares like a fucking creeper, too. August shows up and he upnods back to him. "Hey, how's by ya." //Finally/ Lilith gets it out and Itzhak's eyebrows pop up, then scowl down. "Trackers are small. Real, real small. They can go just about anywhere. Ya phone's a good candidate for a tracker, too, if it got an app snuck on it." He tucks the rag into a back pocket, looking pissed off. But he doesn't ask. He just comes over, his stride a funny rolling kind of half-saunter. "I'll check."

Not ten minutes after August's arrival, a bulldog-nosed black muscle car pulls into the service centre's lot, all eight cylinders thrumming along with constrained aggression. Rain slants off the hood, turning to a fine, listless steam that dissipates quickly. Then the ignition's killed and the driver spends a moment fussing with his phone before climbing on out and slamming the door. His keys are jangled into his pants pocket, and he adjusts the baseball cap's brim by a fraction before trudging toward the garage proper. The presence of a couple other vehicles in the lot is noted on his way in, dark eyes sliding over the various people present once he's ducked into the occupied bay. And the bike, last of all. He loiters somewhat awkwardly as he stares at it, like he's seen a ghost.

Finally, "Miss Winslow. Roen. Hello." A little abrupt, but not completely unfriendly. Itzhak gets a smile. Or it might be him baring his teeth. Potato, potato.

August is distracted by the motorcycle for a second. There are dark circles under his eyes; he's not sleeping so well. Maybe not a surprise after that mess in the church. He nods absently at Itzhak, seems about to respond to that greeting. But then Lilith's problem is revealed, and it's not a weird sound from her power steering or a check engine light. No--it's a stalker.

It's not that he doesn't know about women having stalkers (...unfortunately...), it's just that trackers on cars is a whole other level. And maybe he just didn't expect to hear it from Lilith. Or to hear her asking Itzhak about it.

The sound of Ruiz's car pulling up yanks him out of whatever internal headspace he was caught in. "I came to ask you if you got one of those weird letters but," his gaze shifts to Lilith's car, "it can wait a second." He nods at Ruiz, follows his gaze to the bike. Then he's moving to join Itzhak at Lilith's car, curious.

"Thanks. I figured I can jank through doing a lot of things, but finding car trackers like I'm in the mob isn't one of them." Lilith twitches her lips up and sniffs audibly with confirmation a little at Itzhak's scowl of brows once he figures out what she's stalling about saying. Because yes, the idea on principle is excessive, creepy and annoying and potentially dangerous, who knows. Not that she can't handle her own here in Gray Harbor most of the time, but she has to be awake, suspecting, and ready for doing that, there's certain ways to get at her before she sets someone on fire. Or she just has to leave the place to be taken down a few (or a lot) of power pegs. Which is what happened going to Seattle, it never really crossed her mind to set anyone on fire there. Not that wanting to set people on fire is normal or anything, but the people that live here have different baselines for reactions and what's appropriate.

She watches Itzhak approach the vehicle and leaves it all access unlocked with a push of button to make sure it didn't autolock all fancy, then looks at the Captain coming up with a familiar wave of her hand. Then she can't help herself. She looks at August and makes sure the Captain and Itzhak can hear the smartass dry humor when she says, "Told you. I attract crazy ass men." Then she looks back at Ruiz and bats a wink like balm so he doesn't 'grr' at her, then takes to watching the mechanic search.

There's some delay as she thinks about what August just said, then because she's not helping look around or anything, she asks with casual fold of arms over her midsection, "Letter? Like mail handwritten letter? About what? I uh. Haven't been home to check my mail since..." Before the festival, honestly, given what happened to her, but she really doesn't need to get into that, and one of those men standing here, at least, knows why she hasn't been home, probably, given he took her to the hospital a few days ago, though you wouldn't know from looking at her.

Itzhak glances at August, meeting his gaze ever so briefly with a particular troublesome light in his eyes. He's already thinking about making some prick regret the life choices that led to this moment. As Ruiz's cruiser pulls up, Itzhak hears it before he sees it, and he's looking in that direction with a tense, inner-focused expression. Ruiz smiles at him, more or less, and something in his fierce look softens in return. Only a moment, before he's running his hands over the Acura, muttering to himself in Yiddish. "What weird letter?" he raises his voice to ask August.

He prowls all around the car, tapping on it, muttering, completely engaged in whatever weird high-priest-of-machinery thing he's doing. After a few minutes, he bangs his fist on the trunk, which pops open for him. Itzhak reaches in, hand cupped--and a little electronic device drops neatly into his palm from where it was nestled unseen. He shows it to Lilith, eyes only on her now. "You want I should make this disappear?"

In front of the police captain, God, and everybody he asks her this.

Lilith's comment on attracting crazy men, accompanied by that wink sent the captain's way, causes his brows to knit slightly. Like, what, is she talking about him? He prowls in closer to the Acura with its trunk popped, with that lazy slouch to his shoulders. Like he's taken everything that was drilled into him by the military, and thrown it out the fucking window. "Mind if I have a look at that? Before you go making it disappear?" To his credit, he doesn't miss a beat with that. Just holds out his hand, and waits. To Lilith, "You want to tell me who's been bugging your car?" On the subject of weird letters, he does not comment.

August gives Lilith a sympathetic, wane smile for the crazy-ass men. He has sisters, he knows how this is. He sighs, scratches his beard as Itzhak sets to searching the car. "It was from Them. At least, I think it was. It burned up after I read it, didn't get a chance to use the," he rubs his fingers together, "Gift on it. But if it is from Them maybe that's not such a hot idea. Also gave me tinnitus for half a fucking hour."

He makes a face when Itzhak pulls out the bug. In response to Ruiz's question, he glances at Lilith, and says, "I think I can guess." Apology to go with the sympathy now. His expression looks a bit like Itzhak's now. "Does someone need an attitude adjustment?"

Lilith suspected, she did, it made sense. But seeing the tracker pop out into his hand is different than suspecting, it pisses her off quite visibly with flush of heat rising on her cheeks and the edges of her ears, teeth briefly on edge. Then she slowly pulls out her phone to eyeball a moment with suspicion, because Itzhak mentioned that suspicion of hers too, and the party responsible for that tracking has resources beyond resources in the form of cash and sway to do things by any means.

Suddenly, though, her dark head tilts and lightning spark of what's no doubt something ill-fated or clever (or both) lights her eyes as she shoves her phone back into her shoulder bag at casual hang. She looks at Itzhak with weight and tip of chin before speaking, letting him know silently she's considering the offer and appreciating it there in those few ticks of time. She doesn't explode the tracker (she thought about it in the gut sense) or demand it back in a hurry or anything as the Captain's hand comes out to try and have a tactile look at the thing, "No. I want to use it in the future for a set up yet unplanned and do things my way. But..."

She answers Itzhak audibly before explaining to Ruiz and company as well, apparently a little accustomed to the whole stalking thing given how she sighs and theorizes, "Contractor from wherever probably put it on, not the man himself. But just so we're clear, because I realize suddenly what this might seem like out of context, uh. Byron doesn't stalk me. I mean, he probably wants to, just to keep me from falling into bad things here and there, but you know. Not him being overbearing rich man."

(Byron has totally stalked Lilith before, probably a lot, and especially this summer, but that's beside the point. She's slightly oblivious, though, or doesn't think it's a big deal. They're ridiculous with their inclinations like that sometimes, but it's fine.)

"He's a very rich powersuit from Miami, where I used to live. Money and position makes him hard to get rid of. Doesn't live here. I can handle it. I just... mm." Lilith will apparently figure it out later because she does a bit of a double take when August explains in brief that he got a letter from Them, and his tone and context makes her lashes bat a few times with both surprise and dread, "Seriously? They send LETTERS now, like tax collectors?" Pause, "... what did it say?"

Itzhak grimaces at August, face twisting up. Over what, the tinnitus or the creepy letter or the attitude adjustment or what, goes unsaid. He sets the tracker in Ruiz's hand, calloused fingertips brushing the man's palm, and glances at him, eyes hooded, unreadable. For once, Itzhak's without words, but the tension in his tall frame is intense, violence on a tight leash. He stalks back to slam the Acura's trunk. If a person didn't know him, they might be afraid of him when he's like this.

The cop's eyes tick up to Itzhak's when the tracker's relinquished. A moment's silence as he meets that unreadable look with one of his own, then glances down at the little device in his hand, and turns it over, thumb brushing over some exposed circuitry on the back. It's examined a little while longer before he passes it back, scissored between two fingers. Then starts patting down his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. "Mind if I smoke?" seems to be his most immediate thought. Followed by, "So does he have a name? Or am I going to have to play twenty questions to find out?" That's directed Lilith's way, his expression partly obscured by the brim of that goddamned ball cap he refuses to take off. "I can't do much from here, across state lines, but I can put a call in to my guy at the FBI." At which point it's out of his hands, but.

"I meant the guy who sent the flowers," August clarifies for Lilith. Which tips his hand that he knows it wasn't Thorne, and how he'd know that is an open question (though maybe not so much of a question if one knows his broader skillset).

He licks his lips, makes a face. Even before their range had shrunk, Miami was too far. And a rich powersuit is going to be wearing a few security guards (thugs, let's be honest) for protection. "Sure is amazing what rich assholes can get away with," he mutters, though Ruiz's comment about someone at the FBI mollifies him a little.

He sighs about the letter, rubs his eyes. "Something about, being rewarded for using the Gift. We don't have a choice, and not showing up will be a bad fucking idea." He laughs, hollow and bitter. "Not that they said where to go. But if my last few excursions are any indication, they'll swing the scythe when they're ready."

"Tempting. His name is Grant Turner, don't go turning on a mindbang to figure it out off that tracker. But don't call a guy. It might make things harder for me to manage it. Probably harder to hide a body somewhere, I guess, without a traceback, too." Lilith tells the Captain with a tiny shake of her head and knit of her brows, still staring at August once he's explained. The slam of the car trunk makes her wince just a touch, though, because she hasn't had it that long and it still has that shiny new-car-smell-and-pride! She'll be bored with it eventually, but she almost sulks and reflex says 'hey' in response.

But Itzhak is also blazing mad, sooooo... she just kind of takes that one lying down in the name of bigger things right now. She's not sure what the TK equivalent of a tantrum fireball is and she has accidental issues herself, no need to go poking TK bears over a trunk that's perfectly fine. Right? Right. Not going to pout. Poor car, though. She secretly and mentally refers to it as Snow White because she super likes the color and would never admit it.

After focusing on August and having a spell to digest, she says, "Okay. So if I go home and I have a creepy letter that self-destructs on read-receipt, what do you think the odds are of skipping out and pretending I didn't get it? No read receipt for them that way, huh?" Then the woman blows out a huge sigh and rubs at her temple, knowing DAMN well it's not like email read receipts on the Darkside Net. And somehow, she just knows she probably has one given what's been explained about the reading of it. Checking the mail in general from now on is going to suck with paranoia too, and she looks concerned for a beat instead of somewhere between a groan and tissy fit.

When does Byron check his mail? Is their time already up? Focus.

Focus she does, right after a huge breath and drop of her hand from her head to step and reach for the tracker with small finger curl gesture to Ruiz while speaking with inquiry to August, "Do you know anyone else that got that weird mail?"

Itzhak, despite his mad, snorts in annoyed amusement when Lilith starts talking about hiding a body literally right in front of Ruiz. Does the woman not know the phrase 'plausible deniability'? Maybe when you're a 11 out of 10 on the hot scale, you get away with these things. He shakes a cigarette out of his pack to light up, too, granting implicit permission to Ruiz. Inhaling sweet, calming nicotine, he stares at nothing, bristling and silent. Which silence he abruptly breaks by pointing at August with the lit cigarette in his fingers. "THEY can suck my fuckin' dick." There's that gracious New York charm.

Funny thing, that, speaking of mindbangs. Since neither Itzhak nor Lilith have claimed the tracker back from him yet, de la Vega takes a moment to study it. Eyes slightly squinted, the conversation around him fading to a dull and distant murmur as he pulls traceries of his power as if from the very pores of his skin. And then his eyes close, and the sharp, almost inaudible crack of electricity shunted through his body, and into the device, and back out of it again, with only a breath of ozone left behind. He swallows thickly, drags his knuckles across his nose to swipe away a trickle of blood, and finally hands the thing back. Nothing's offered in elucidation yet; he crooks his finger to Itzhak, to signal that he wants to bum a smoke.

August makes a low sound and grimaces at the name 'Grant'. That's well out of his league, so he doesn't have much to say, though like Itzhak he's amused Lilith doesn't think much of saying these things in front of God and a literal police captain. "Well," he says to Itzhak, "sounds like some of us are going to get a chance to tell them that face to face." Normally he'd relish the prospect; right now he's just tired.

He watches Ruiz with the tracker, peering a second at the blood. A sidelong glance at Lilith. "I've only just started asking around. Figured I'd check with," he looks to Itzhak, "someone else who's of a similar mind when it comes to where They can shove it." Not that Itzhak is as frivolous as August, but past a certain threshold it might not matter. "I'm not used to hearing from them this directly. Previously They've just...showed up, taken what They wanted. This feels like it might be different. But if it's not, well...They'll come and find you. One way or another."

"I don't check my mail a whole lot," Itzhak confesses, grumpily. "Hafta paw through it." He doesn't bother asking what the letter looks like or anything. When he touches it, he'll know. A shiver goes up his long back, sensing the lightning that lances through Ruiz, and he glances at him with an appreciative eyebrow. Nice. He gives him a cigarette and flicks the lighter to light it for him.

Was Lilith serious about the body part? It's sometimes hard to tell the way her humor rides sometimes, she's fond of deadpans and shock factor here and there to go with the dry wit when things are casual enough for her to be that personal brand of dark charm. But things aren't very light and casual right now between the stalker and Dark Forces as topic, so hell, she may just be that damn off the cuff about it. But she's probably not going to pre-meditate it, he'd probably have to come at her first, that's reassuring, right? At least for now, she's not. She's far more concerned about what August is saying while the guys smoke, anyway.

Then she notices the Captain holding out the tracker and reaches to take it before looking at it, then him. Then the thing. Then him. She fixes broken things, but wiring/chip shorts are different. She just knows it's broken. Then she says, "Goddamnit. What'd you do that for?" Without even thinking about it or saying anything else, then, she drops the tracker into her purse and gets out a travel pack of kleenex to hand him one as her attention goes to August, "After I leave here, I'll go straight home and see and let you know. I would say hey, at least they're preparing us, but no. That's not how it works. Prepared for these things is a far reaching concept, always."

"Who the fuck's Collins?" is the first thing out of Javier's mouth, once he's lit his smoke and taken the first, divine drag off it. He turns to exhale away from Lilith, though his dark eyes try to snag hers and hold them throughout. "Might be a PI or something? Ex-cop?" That little tidbit makes a muscle in his jaw twitch slightly. Another swipe at his nose, a sharp sniff as if to clear it, cigarette touched to his lips; the hit of nicotine has an instant calming effect. As for the tracker, "No, it should be fine. That won't have damaged it." Not that he explains what he was doing, precisely. Catching August watching him for a moment there, he flickers the man something not quite a smile.

August gives Ruiz a knowing sort of look. Then he nods at Lilith. "It's just to wind us up. Probably makes us...more interesting. Just...keep an eye out." He pulls a face. "It'll burn up as soon as you read it, if it's like mine, so, if you want to examine it, don't open it."

Lilith shakes her head some at the Captain and squints at the name before she says, "I have no clue. Hired help, I guess. I'm going to check my mail, I'm all antsy now. You can text me whatever or whenever, we need to do that coffee or drinks thing to talk anyway. Can't think of anything but creeper mail now, makes my actual creeper seem more whatever." She waves her hand to August and pats her bag, as if to let him know in reassurance she'll text results of the mail-check, then detours to go pop a kiss right on Itzhak's cheek as payment for the checkover, "I'd offer to pay you for your time, but you'd be offended and I don't want you to pull a muscle, Hulk." Her poor trunk!

Packing up, she goes along to check the probably ill-fated mail with some following bulkloads of 'goddamnit'.

Itzhak's looking at Ruiz with an odd little quirk of a smile. Then, "'kay, I won't open it," he says to August, drawing on his smoke. Then Lilith ambushes him! With the cheek kiss! Itzhak coughs out smoke in surprise and blushes vermillion. "Feh. Get outta heah, you." He shoos her with a flip of the hand and a scowl, but he's fooling exactly nobody.

August coughs a laugh at the cheek kiss and Itzhak's somewhat inevitable response to it. Nothing so satisfying as making a blusher blush. He manages to say, "Take care, Lil," between laughs.