2019-11-23 - Turkey, Tact, and Terrace Trips

With much of the prep work done the night before, all there was left to do was pop everything into the oven and start on add any finishing touches and extras that would be best made the day of the event. It was a busy morning with both Byron and Lilith sorting out all of the recipes that Lil had printed, looking over every aspect of the recipe to ensure that, while not perfect, the meal would be close enough! It's difficult to not take a peek at the bird in the oven, but they are kept busy with mixing and stirring. Then again, rather than keep the dinner simple, they did go a little overboard with everything that they wanted to try and make-- this is why all kitchen counters were filled up the night before.

Of course, Mary Thorne arrives early as adults tend to, watching as the two go out of their way to multi-task like crazy in the kitchen. A hand running through his dark hair, Byron eyes the recipe, squinting down at it. "Looks like we're short a few things." He's dressed in a sweater and jeans combo before he starts to toss on a leather jacket to help with the late fall chill. There was a moment where he thought to ask his mother to run the errand for him, but he thinks better of it. And she's the better cook.

And this is how Thanksgiving Dinner came to be!

After all is said and done, the meal itself came out fine. It looked delicious and smelled delicious and nothing was burned. By then, Byron had showered and changed into dark navy suit ensemble, looking dapper even if this were a three-person affair. Rather than have his mother help with the setting, he tends to all of that, while Mary lingers near the entrance the terrace to watch a ship sailing by. She would be having Thanksgiving elsewhere if Byron hadn't ruined her plans, after all.

"Everything looks wonderful." He says with a wide grin to Lilith as he carries a couple of plates to the table set up near the those French doors so that they may enjoy the view while eating. This was more her experiment than his. He could've very easily have ordered take-out. "It definitely came out far better than I'd thought." He will open admit as he starts to set various plates of food down at the table proper.

Gosh, they stayed up late doing all that prepwork, but honestly, even though it was a lot of work and they found themselves overwhelmed by trying to put on a real kitchen show and overachieve when considering their actual more casual kitchen skill levels, they did it. And it was fun and companionable and sometimes a little giggly to mess up or bitch about, balming with good-natured laughter and kisses and teasing from one side or the other every time one of them has a 'derp' moment in the kitchen with all that overwhelming task at hand. See, Byron and Lilith are both fine at making A DINNER in the realm of things they KNOW, but this is THANKSGIVING DINNER and who knew it took this much prep! The recipes might have been a little understated in how much effort they required because Lilith didn't read them very hard, she just looked at the yummy, fancy pictures and thought it'd look nice on the table.

But in the end, they tumble into bed feeling pretty good and accomplished and worn out besides, ready to cuddle and spend their first real holiday dinner together like normal adults when they're up and at them the next hosting day.

When Lilith gets up, she spends time showering, putting on makeup, loose curling her hair, and getting into a black flare skirt and peachy-silk blouse tuck for pretty, stylish and semi-demure combo, though that skirt has some sheen of nylon or leather to give it an edge, and her heels are designer criss-cross neat. It's very pretty while still remaining Lilith, and she puts an apron over it so she's not a mess when Mary arrives. She wants to look good. The woman even puts on low classical music at first, but that doesn't last long-- at some point, Vivaldi comes on, she makes a terrible face, then goes to switch the music to casual low dinner ambient jazz like you hear in fancy restaurants to fill space.

Vivaldi reminds her of Grant Turner.

Now. Lilith may not like Mary Thorne for a good few reasons, but like the other woman and Byron, she's in it to play family today and never really says anything about that anyway. He tolerated Hank for years, she can do it with Mary. Besides, it's been so long, maybe the woman is different? Maybe the woman doesn't see the rambunctious little trailer park girl that grew up rogue and wild without supervision. Maybe she just sees the lovely that Lilith grew into and Lilith is going to try and match what she looks like on the outsides. She does have a bit of a case of nerves, though, deep down, though she's not letting on about it. Mostly because of the way that Byron's life is now and she's here in his Penthouse making a Thanksgiving dinner for the first time with him (who she secretly kind of wants to impress with some domestic skills in that girly way) and his mother is kicking around (who she wants to show off to for Byron's sake).

That said, Lilith meant to make pleasant conversation. She meant to talk about things and be charming and ask Mary questions and be inclusive and even ask for womanly help here and there where she doesn't actually need it, just to make the woman feel part of things and needed. But Lilith doesn't do any of that. Mostly she just doesn't talk to the woman at all, she pretends she's SO busy because she can't figure out what to actually say and she doesn't WANT to ask the woman for help, even for social nicety pretend! At least she's not being a dick, though. Yet. Of course, the way she's being affectionate in turns with Byron here and there with tiny ambushes while cooking and setting the table, maybe it looks a little like she is... she's doting on him to make Mary realize how adored Byron is. Not in a gross, tacky way, just... oh, it's there and it has an accidental rub-in vibe.

"I honestly can't believe we pulled it off. There was a time there when all the counters were full and I mentally got lost and wanted to just char it all and call it barbecue Thanksgiving. You're kind of a big deal, chef Byron." She holds the serving dish of potatoes out to one side that she's carrying so she can detour to kiss against Byron's face when he leans to put something down with final setup at the table. Then she goes to pour wine out into waiting glasses, asking Mary, "Red, white, or otherwise, Miss Mary?" The old childhood name for her sticks, apparently. Just calling her Mary unless the woman insists seems like she likes her and knows her well, and calling her Missus Thorne is a little too formal for this.

Byron doesn't seem to mind what music Lilith decides to have on. The table was set beautifully enough, looking far more extravagant for three people. Everyone was nicely dressed as if they were planning on stepping out for a night on the town (if the town were L.A. or San Francisco or even Seattle).

For the most part, Mary Thorne is quite cordial, though her smiles may be incredibly subtle, when there's a reason to smile, her face does brighten up. For now, simply staring out at the darkening skies to view the Bay, there was hardly anything to smile about. She is grateful when Lilith hands her a glass of white wine and quickly down most of it in one long turn. And oh yes, she's been watching the interaction between Lilith and her son. It's not difficult for her to see where things stand now between the pair, but she also knew of Vivian, who she believed was far too good for a man like Byron, being dragged out here to Gray Harbor and for what? A smaller sip follows when this thought comes to mind.

Once it looks like dinner had started, she moves in to join them at the table, watching as the love birds nuzzle against each other with Byron brushing his face against Lilith's, hearing the both of them laughing. Mary Thorne takes a seat. "My condolences to you and your family, Lilith." She says after setting her nearly emptied glass down. "That must've been so hard after having just moved back into town recently." Her eyes look at the various foods on display with interest before the lift to look on Lilith again, "At least he wasn't alone."

Byron, being ever helpful, begins to fill his own bowl with some casserole, salad and deviled eggs, before passing the plates around to anyone who would like them. A forkful of eggs enters his mouth and he begins to chew when his mother addresses Lilith. He'll let Lilith field that one for now, even if he watches his own mother with wary eyes. "More wine?" He asks, before rising to stand and fill her glass up immediately.

So. This is what it's like to have the kind of mother in law that needs a tolerance switch and is the basis of all groans and jokes among women when it comes to their men and the women that raised them. Lilith mentally sighs to herself when the topic immediately switches to the condolences for the loss of her father right in the middle of all this food and festivity that they worked so hard to make pretty and nice for the day. While talking about Hank Winslow's death in passing is easy enough now, the fact that the woman digs in from reading newspaper articles at the time LILITH WAS THERE for that moment, well.

(Snap.) (Snap.) (Snap.) Lilith hears it unwittingly, the sound of her father's neck. It's still clear as a bell mentally, despite the way memories and dreams about that whole bridge incident play out in chunks of haze and clarity alike. Thanks, Mary.

After wetting her lips once Byron's pulled back from their shared happy and proud nuzzle on seating with triumphance for the meal and day, his plates to pass now at task, Lilith sits for a moment after that shared sentiment from Mrs. Thorne. Then she sits a little longer instead of coming up with something dismissive and polite to say. It's not that what finally comes out isn't polite, but it has a bit of a flat air as if she knows the woman knows she's going to find the topic unpleasant to put a wrench in her appetite. Her hands smooth and drop a napkin in her lap, then after she's taken a plate from Byron and shot him a bit of a sideways look of uncertainty that's flash-heartbeat fast, she looks at Mary and picks up her wine glass to drink after speaking.

"It was difficult. The man always had a way of doing things his own way, much to my frustration. I suppose that's where I get it from. I don't have any family left to compare now, at any rate. But thank you." Considering he hung, most people assume Hank Winslow was drunk and killed himself on the bridge with drinking buddy or something insane, that or that gambling debts actually got him hanging there that way with the other guy. Depends on how much people knew Hank to influence the speculations. But the paper notated that Lilith was there and transported to hospital, of course, with Byron and company, "Hopefully the trailer won't be haunted, though I daresay he was at the Pourhouse more. Maybe he'll ghost around there, instead."

She might be kidding with that dry ending and making a dark kind of light out of such sentiments, but then she wonders of Mary in turn, "We're both quite lucky to have Byron, though, aren't we? He always took care of me and goodness, all those jobs to take care of you too? It must be nice to have a place you can just relax in now and not have to work. And with a view, at that!" Her voice at least recovers to light and conversational for this part and she gets appetite back to taste turkey first with a glance at Byron to tack on, "Oh my gosh, it's palatable, we're amazing."

Byron can't help but watch his mother carefully when she begins to make chit-chat with Lilith. He doubted that the woman would hold anything against Lilith, but there are times where she enjoys a making these biting remarks and inquiries, perhaps to see whether it would get a rise in the other. This is also something that Byron's picked up over the years of living with the woman, himself. His father was usually more direct when it came to insults.

"Now, I'm not going to say that Stephen and Hank had the best relationship in town, but your father wasn't a violent man. That made things easier." There's this well-practiced appreciative smile that she flashes over at Byron when he refills her drink. "Thank you." Her attention is back on Lilith, "I remember when Stephen got a call down at the station one evening. It was something about public intoxication and whoever called, added in a complaint of gross misconduct, but we don't believe they knew what they were talking about. I'd just received a call from Stephen moments before that he was going off-duty, then to hear back from him, telling me to disregard that." There's this fondness in her eyes when she tells this story. It was a time in her life when she and her husband were still young and beautiful. Taking a sip from her glass, she continues, "He drove down to the Pourhouse and found Hank Winslow teetering about on the side of the road. They argued for a bit, Hank saying with slurred words that he had to get back home because his Lilypad was home alone. And it was already late in the evening." She says with amusement, "When Stephen was telling me this, I had to wonder how you were faring this whole time." Leaning back against her chair, she says, "Steve drove him back home and had him settled into bed and gathered you up and took you over to a neighbor's trailer. I think it was the Turners." Geoff's family, "One of them was home at the time. They were always busy working to take care of their own mess of kids." From there, her eyes shift between the two, "I think Byron was almost five around this time." This was before Byron and Lilith had even officially met, but their parents knew of each other. Small town.

Slowly eating his meal as he listens to his mother's retelling of a past tale, Byron is relieved that there doesn't seem to be anything truly offensive about it, but also intrigued by the tale. This was something so far back in time, while they were still very young, that neither would have remembered it. "I'm surprised dad didn't just take her home with him." He finally comments between bites.

Mary then says after a sip of wine, "Oh, Stephen had his own hands full back home." She doesn't quite look at Byron when she says this, but this does coincide with Lilith bringing up just how lucky they are to have her son in their lives. Something which makes her smile brighten peculiarly. "I've been working all of my life. I do miss it, but Byron here, insists that I retire. Doesn't that make me feel old?" She says with a light-hearted laugh, but adding, "But yes, it's nice to have this little break to myself."

It's Byron's turn to sip at his wine, a slight dubious gaze given his mother. He will smile over at Lilith's compliment on the turkey. "It did come out better than I expected, though in my mind, I was thinking: How hard can it be to cook a turkey? Then I remember how easily they can turn out dry. This is.. edible." It's actually pretty good.

Lilith hated the DHS policeman knocks even though she was both taught and intuitive and afraid enough of the unknown and strangers to lie like a champ. She was sometimes grateful for the small town foistoffs and excuses that people made for Hank to keep Lily from being yanked away for complete gross negligence as a child, grateful for the way people turned blind eyes to her situation because of the trailer park life and her father just being who he was. There may have been some back level interference that kept her from being taken away too given the mystery surrounding her mother, or maybe Gray Harbor just kind of keeps its own in clutches by whatever means. She was back again, so many were back again, weren't they?

Either way, as an adult, rationally, she knows DHS should have interfered and there should have been no blind eyes, just like there should have been no blind eyes turned toward the Thorne house, but then, life makes people complicit because it's easier that way from the outside, for the outside, while others suffer from the inside. She's not sure which time Mary is talking about, there were often people bringing Hank home because they knew he had a kid unattended if he went to jail, and oh, how Hank used that excuse for convenience as much as anything. She sits and listens and thinks of how to respond because while she's over it all, it wasn't PLEASANT to remember being four and opening soup cans to eat out of, assuming they had even that, and it wasn't pleasant to remember the times the power was out and she had to sit in the dark waiting for him to come home with a flashlight and a book while hiding under a blanket fort from all the monsters.

She's tempted to rub in something unpleasant for Mary, like the fact that Stephen Thorne is nice and dead and a horrible father too. She's tempted to change the subject and be a good girl on the same front because Byron likes things to have pleasantry airs. But mostly, she just sits and plans on how to knock Mary's wine glass over at some point or splash on her outfit during a benevolent reaching refill because No Breaking Things on Thanksgiving, she made that rule before Mary even showed, mentally, and she's sticking to that, goddamnit. Besides, there's plenty of food and drink to busy herself with, so with her legs crossing and adjustment of the napkin in her lap, she settles in prettily and just eats while listening, as if it's the most natural dinner conversation in the world to bring up her fucked up father and life at the table.

Lilith is well behaved today. But she's not a saint. Something about how WELL and pretty she's taking all that might clue Byron into the idea she's saving something for later, that or she's SUPER into making him a lovely kind of holiday. Probably satisfying and admirable deep down, either way, considering, but for now, she's that darling kind of blunt and dry while making commentary when it's all said and done.

"It really was a good thing I had a bit of self-sufficiency and wits about me early on, before I had Byron pitching in to help me eat and show me over to the Gilford house to let Tobin's mother work a little bit of love and magic on me. But you know, I like to think it's given me the general drive I need to survive. And while we get to pick our friends and who we love, we certainly don't get to pick our family. Life's lottery, isn't it?" That's just Lilith accepting her lot in life, no real guile, though it certainly probably resonates some around the table. Anyway, she's distracted then from all that seated pretty to look at Byron with a private, absorbed and affectionate little smile afterwards while chewing a bite of one fancy recipe result of vegetables done up mostly right. They chose each other then, they chose each other now. Fuck families.

While Mary can dig up these incidents from their pasts, she picks and chooses some of the nicer memories. Perhaps, she's not trying to be a bitch and sees these things through rose-tinted glasses the way people do. The only other current death that might have affected her at some point is the death of the Addington-blooded. Not because one of them, at least, died in the building she lives in, but because as with Hank Winslow, the Addington family has been a staple in town for a long time-- even if she may not have been close to anyone in that particular family.

If Byron senses anything sinister coming off from Lilith, he doesn't seem to acknowledge it. There's no shooting her a warning glance or observing her with extreme care, the way he does with his mother, even if he should expect, by now, that Lilith has a lack of a filter sometimes. "I didn't say it to make you feel old." He'll counter, eyes on Mary. "You have the whole day to yourself now. Do with it as you please."

Mary looks just a touch surprised by this, though she knows what her son means. Taking a bite out of a delicate mixture of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy and peas, she asks with a playful, "Do anything that I please?" She full well knows that Byron doesn't mean this at all, but she will poke when given the opportunity.

There's a roll of his eyes now, when he mutters, "You know what I meant." Before taking a sip of wine once more. There's this look of pride on his face when Lilith brings up the fact that he helped her survive her childhood, despite them both being young. Though even he knows that in his younger years, he sometimes had to count on his parents for help. He made no money on his own at the time, so any food acquired came from the adult Thornes. Then he grew up.

"I'm just thankful that we're able to share this evening together. Looking at all the recipes Lilith printed out, I was ready to pick up the phone to order take-out... or for a person chef to come into our kitchen and whip up some magic." Looking between the two women now, he adds, "This was a wonderful idea." Picking at the rest of his food, he laughs at everything laid out for them, "Looks like we'll have a ton of leftovers. We.. probably overdid it with the cooking. After this, once our stomachs are settled, there will be a serving of coffee and a pumpkin flavored cheese cake with a nice coffee powder sprinkled all over it."

"I might have gone a little overboard, but I'm not accustomed to holiday meals, especially in the traditionally huge sense, so I thought, why not? Then when I saw everything out on the counter last night and realized how much chopping and measuring and combining and prepping to just have things in the oven and on the stove in turns today with the turkey..." Lilith is a bit perked up now that the subjects have shifted on and Byron went making a rolleyes at Mary she took proxy-delight in because she's refrained from rolling her own eyes with effort, "Well, first I kind of wanted to cry at feeling less like Julia Child once I was faced with reality, knowing we were having company. And I hadn't seen you in so long, I wanted things to be perfectly lovely, you know? But then I realized, like anything, you just treat it like a tactical battle where necessary and power through."

In fact, she's almost charming in perpetual with that honesty while talking and appreciating the meal and day in general (despite company being what it is here and there) because she's reminded of what it means. And like a squishy kind of dork, suddenly, she feels thankful for Thanksgiving dinner in whatever capacity. Having Mary here means she's utterly a part of Byron's life again, besides. Does she contemplate spilling hot coffee instead of wine now that Byron's mentioning it? Well, yes, but... maybe she won't. Unless Mary starts talking about more triggeresque things, witting or unwitting. Then maybe it's back on the mental planning list for the day. Sometimes petty feels nice as a substitute for actual reactionary results, see. Anyway, doesn't matter, Byron had to live a life with her and still does, she can handle a day and she's carrying on while eating, leaning to refill her own wine glass while prattling on.

"I honestly have no idea where to put dessert, though. But I'm putting it somewhere. It's a matter of principle, especially hearing it all laid out like that to tempt while my brain is still food-switched. I imagine the clearing breather and coffee will help settle and make room for it. I believe someone I used to work with told me once that Thanksgiving is really about abusing your stomach until you can't breathe to pay penance for all the smallpox we gave the Natives, and that's how you know it's done right. I told them it sounded grossly American in a stereotypical way, but now? I think I get the body abuse part of that sentiment, at least." Lilith hums to herself a little then and looks at all the food instead of the people around the table while nursing her wine glass for a bite-breather, though most of her plate is pretty whittled down at this point given how much she was focused on eating not to say something untoward, prior.

Then, because it's nice to ask and she's curious about Mary's life as it is now, at least a little bit, she wonders of Mrs. Thorne, "Speaking of, what do you do now in your leisure time? Do you have any hobbies or nice lady circles or some such to occupy? Byron and I will be helping out with the less fortunate when the actual Thanksgiving date happens, that and he has some foreign clients that don't celebrate it to tend to later that day. Then trees, is it? For the lobby and here and my loft. Do you want to come with us to feed people on the actual holiday, perhaps?"

So inclusive! So nice of Lilith! But Lilith also knows even if Mary goes, she'll be busy working and feeding people, so no conversation needed! Basically, the invitation is a win win for sounding lovely and nice without actually putting herself through the hoops of dealing with the woman much. Clever shit.

"Oh, you needn't worry about impressing me, Lilith." Mary says, dabbing away at her lips and looking to be done with eating until dessert is served. "The effort that you both went through. This is what one would expect if you were preparing to serve extended family visiting for the holidays." She takes a breather, "I haven't had to do something this elaborate in a long time, personally. It's nice every so often." The last time that she probably hosted a huge dinner of this sort was when Stephen was still alive and they were entertaining his GHPD colleagues for holiday dinner.

Then what Lilith says next has both Thorne's blinking at this explanation told to her by a mysterious colleague. If anything, Byron will glance over at his mother at some point of this story, but she keeps those curious eyes on Winslow. "That's..." A dark way? "An interesting way to think about it." He quickly finishes the rest of his wine at this, before taking in that much needed breather. "I don't see it as abusing anything, myself. But showing appreciation for good food. Even if you're stuffing your face unnecessarily." That last part is tacked on in a wry murmur.

The corner of Mary's lips turn up into a smile as she slowly rises to help clear the table because it looks like they are all ready for dessert. "I don't know, I can see some of what is said. There is a term 'Glutton for Punishment' even if I don't believe its referring to holiday dinner at all, though it should be."

With his wine completely drained and it looks like everyone is making room in their stomachs for dessert, Byron stands to help with the clearing as well. Looking between both women again when Lilith brings up the feeding the poor event.

With several plates in hand, Mary exclaims, "That sounds so much like Byron! Always helping out the less fortunate." Making her way into the kitchen to drop of what she's collected, she adds on, "Always the hero to set that shining example." She knows what part he used to like to play in his childhood, even in his real life, he'd try to come out looking like this brave and valiant Knight.

Byron can tell by his mother's tone, despite the smiles and good cheer, that what she'd said was meant as a biting remark. It was something that his father used to call him out on before. He won't say anything in response to it, simply following her into the kitchen. "It would be a great way to spend part of the day at anyway."

"I'd love to, actually." Mary says whole-heartedly, "I've been a waitress my whole life." Something... which Byron never lets her forget for whatever reason. "This would be getting back to something that I've grown so used to. But it's also something I enjoyed despite the work part. It was a great way to get to know people."

Lilith just kind of hitches her shoulders in a bit of a shrug, like that's been her general Thanksgiving relating to the holiday thus far with the passed on dark commentary given in lighthearted fashion, then she makes an 'mm' of noise in agreement at the Glutton for Punishment comment. There's a few ways that could go in her head, honestly, if she looks too much into it, but it's not worth the effort of trying to find a reason to get riled either with suspecting doubletalk at every corner from a Thorne. It's Thanksgiving and they're having a good dinner and day all told, things in life aren't supposed to be smooth and perfect. If this is the worst of the day and no one explodes the occasional conversational landmind, well, that's good!

"You sure produced a handsome fellow to help the shiny part along, stunning go-getter results aside." Handsome and efficient. Whatever's going on over there, she's laying an ego pet verbally to counter. Pulling the napkin from her lap, Lilith rises up to help start clearing and moving things to containers, she even gets some out separate to make Mary servings of things so that she can take them home and have lunch plus dinner, then puts them in a bag to stow in the fridge for taking home later. She doesn't even ask, she just does it and doesn't really even think twice about it, despite wanting to douse the woman with hot coffee on principle earlier.

It's still Byron's mother and they have a lot of food, and she might be leaning into the take-care-of-family-even-when-you-want-to-choke-them thing anyway because it's how she grew up. Hell, she even smiles a little bit to herself when she realizes exactly what she's doing on the woman's behalf without prompting, because all that Hank talk makes her a little amused at the idea of him being included in today's festivities and ALL the things he'd have to say, not to mention the leftover load would be FAR LESS because he had a very strong principle of filling the camel hump where he could where he was allowed to mooch it full.

Horrible father, funny bastard sometimes. We get what we get. She decides not to spill coffee on Mrs. Thorne afterall when going to start pulling at the fancy espresso machine after setup because she likes to be the one to use it. It's more fun than making coffee and smells good. And it's fine that Mary said she'd go along even though Byron might kind of want to thump Lilith secretly for suggesting it. Then again, maybe not, it looks so good to bring your mother to help out the poor too, doesn't it? Presentation airs, ahoy.

"Oh good sweet gracious, I think I need a little air before we go setting into dessert." She looks at Byron kind of sidelong on the sly before turning to set the coffee fresh near where Mary is rinsing some dishes in her helpout-state, "I made you some things separate to take with you, but you're not allowed to run away until after dessert. We're proud of it." They are. But really, Lilith is just saying that so it doesn't sound like she's rushing her out with the bit about the leftovers. Mostly she just wants a moment to steal with Byron and breathe a little and he might be picking up what she's throwing down while the dishwasher is being loaded.

While a little embarrassed by the prai-- who are we kidding? Still, Byron beams brightly as if he were embarrassed a tad by the praise given him. He even leans in close to Lilith to press his lips against her cheek once she speaks the words 'stunning go-getter'. While Lilith packs up some take-home for Mary, Byron starts to rinse off the plates and silverware to place into the dishwasher, before moving to set the table with their dessert of choice.

While he believes that he's able to control his mother if he needed to, that doesn't mean that he was a little concerned about the things she might say. His relationship to her in private differs widely from their relationship in public, so he's given that much of a peace of mind, at least.

With the espresso machine turned on, ready to fill up a few glasses with shots of the good stuff, some frothed milk and, most likely, a hint of spirit to add to the festivities, Byron simply basks in their accomplishment as he leans back against the counter, his arms at his sides. The fresh coffee aroma was definitely a pick me up and he goes to fill their mugs with the good stuff, pouring more than a little dash of whiskey in his. There's this smile that he flashes over at Lilith at her suggestion, taking up his cup in time to escort her out to the terrace.

All the while, Mary is bringing over the last of the dishes and seems content to be given this time to herself as well. "Oh, you two go on ahead, I'll.." She almost said 'see myself out', but Lilith makes sure to keep her from doing that. At least for now. "Freshen up in time for dessert."

It's Byron's turn to laugh, "We'll be back in a bit. It's not that we have anywhere else to go." He's talking about from the terrace, but after his shennigants with his mother on her own balcony, there was definitely somewhere the couple could go. With his arm draped around Lilith's shoulder, those French doors are already open, so all that they needed to do was step through... "We ought to do this more often." He jokes.. really, they shouldn't.

Lilith would probably be JUST fine with Mary leaving, and had that tactic been employed, maybe her and Byron would have seen the woman out and tumbled onto the couch to celebrate in full and have a different kind of dessert. But Lilith's taken a bit of an accidental page from the man's book and is very proud of their dessert and she wants to show it off that they made it together as a finale success, it's a weird pride thing that seems to be contagious. Also it gives them that accomplished, happy, lovebirds thing she wanted the impression of giving, not so much meal or presentation perfecting. She just wants the woman to know Byron is so goddamn adored where Mary failed at that. He's her Knight, her Prince, hell, her King the way he's been treating her of late.

Lilith devises ways to make him feel crowned. She never thought she'd have the chance to make up for what she did to him so long ago. She's still hellbent to make it up to him.

Needless to say, despite the easy dressed up calm she's stepping out to the terrace with, she's all happy flutters inside because they made and executed a holiday meal together, made it pleasant through some unpleasant, and they'll no doubt reap the bodily benefits to unwind in true gluttonous fashion later considering they can't keep hands off each other more often than not. Lilith leans into Byron's arm around her while nursing her coffee cup between both hands and stepping out to the terrace with her own commentary and upward slanted smile of sidelong while hushing the sentiment with her own brand of doublespeak where Mary can't hear, "I can take a little pain in trade for rampant pleasure."

Then their feet cross the terrace line to step out onto the balcony and they only have a moment to relax like this is normal and lift their cups for drinks before realizing they're somewhere else before they can stop for a lean on the railing to enjoy the view.

Byron and Lilith disappear for about twenty or thirty minutes, give or take, from the outside world. How much time passes where they went? It's hard to say. But it's an obvious hole of disappearance time given the doors are left open and they're nowhere to be seen, which should be impossible, honestly.

(The day really was going too well to be a Gray Harbor holiday, wasn't it? Instead of having coffee and air and a view, they're pulled to pay their dues in a Dream meeting with the door transition serving as a snare.)

Hearing the lovely couple chatter on their way to the terrace, once the Dishwasher is loaded, Mary goes to dress her own cup of espresso with more than a drop of bourbon. She'd had quite a bit of wine earlier, but the night wasn't over yet! There's this brief moment where she looks up from her coffee spiking to view the couple right at the doorway, before her gaze drifts back to her drink which she then begins to stir.

"It's a nice evening. Surprisingly, for this time of year." She continues with her small talk. Even though her words might sound friendly and light, she keeps to this tight expression, especially around her lips before she leans forward for a sip.

Silence.

The silence was nice. At least in this instance. Mary Thorne is actually rather proud of herself as well. The evening wasn't completely disastrous and the food was edible. In fact, the dessert smelled-- it was't burning. This espresso was delightful. So while the lovebirds are probably snuggling up against the cold air outside, she's basking in this moment, nursing her drink.

After a short while, however, she starts on her way back to the dining table, already setting out the plates for cake slicing. "What time will the meal serving run for?" She asks. Byron had ruined her chances to spend Thanksgiving at her old home, but as they've eaten already tonight.. who knows if there may be time to catch up with Olivia and Amelia following the event.

No answer.

She doesn't think much of it at first, but eventually her attention will turn towards the terrace. Unlike a balcony, the terrace was a huge outdoor space, so while they weren't in her line of sight now, that just meant they were off in some corner where she couldn't see them. "I was asking, what time.." she starts, rising with her coffee and making her way there to that they can hear her better. She probably doesn't want to catch them being cozy and cuddly, that would be... annoying.

She is greeted with silence again and this time, she's standing outside and in that cold air. "Byron?" Despite it all and there being no good reason for it, she knew that she was alone. Cautious steps move forward so that she can peer over the balcony to the ground below. It was dark, but if either of them fell, or the both of them, she'd be able to see their bodies down there. "Hmmm." She follows the length of the railing so that she can observe every side, before she casually makes her way back in.

Checking the time, she considers just leaving, before deciding to take a seat at the table and partake in some of that cake. She looks to be in high enough spirits.

Eventually, somehow, Byron and Lilith step and emerge from the balcony through the threshold, into the penthouse apartment through the open doors like they'd been out there all along. Well. No. Not quite like that. See, they're moving kind of quickly and Byron has a VERY solid grip on Lilith's good arm like he was dragging her in a hurry away from something. That might be read wrong under other conditions, his hold on her, but the upset on her features isn't for him, no, she's glowering about something behind her until she realizes it's the actual balcony behind her and that's Mary right in front of her given the open concept of the living and dining and kitchen space.

On top of that, Lilith's other arm is somewhat burned from fire searing exposure, the outside upper arm down to the elbow bubbled up some with heat blistering on the red flesh. The pretty blouse sleeve itself is hanging in pieces that remain after fire was blotted out with quick reaction, which shows her hand at the opposite side a little red too, but that probably just needs cold water compared to her arm's severity. It's nothing mangling and could avoid direct doctor care, as long as it's kept clean and wrapped from infecting, but also it probably hurts like hell because burns do. And that pain coupled with the awkward fact of where Lilith and Byron are suddenly draws her up short to stop with a tiny hiss of realization. She freezes to look up at Byron with relief, affection, and 'what the hell do we say' right in those overblue eyes, then she looks at her arm with reflex to see how bad it actually looks to an outsider since she mostly just has felt it up until this point.

How the hell to play that off? She's tempted to just take a bolt to the bathroom, hope she wasn't seen, and change shirts with the excuse she spilled coffee while they were out there, but she's clearly waiting for Byron's lead, disoriented by what they just went through, pain, and the general LACK of explanation for company as to where they've just been.

Byron, for the most part, looks almost exactly the way he did when he stepped out onto the terrace. Almost. The rock that struck him didn't tear skin nor fabric, but during the chaos and violence, his suit didn't escape completely unmarked. There's bloodstains, not his, around the cuffs and sleeves and things of that sort. When they abruptly stumble back into his living room, he immediately shuts those French doors behind them. Whatever was back there, the rolling darkness closing in on them, he was making sure to keep it out.

It's no surprise that the others didn't end up here either. It was a Dream, after all, so they must've returned to whence them came. Instead, he's just standing there with this look of near panicked annoyance as he stares at his mother seated at the table.

Mary looks surprised to see them, though this is exactly what she was waiting for. There was still less half of the cake left as she was savoring the moment, taking in the deliciousness of it all. The cake. The coffee. And wondering what may have befallen Byron at this moment. Her imagination runs wild, but it's unfortunate that he had to drag that poor Winslow girl with him. Very unfortunate. But now they are back.

"I was asking what time the meal service started at and how long it was assumed to run for." She tries her best not to look alarmed, though she's quietly taking in their appearance, while pretending not to. She then takes another small slice of her cake to slip into her mouth.

Byron knows that his mother knows... of things. Her own glimmer was just as bright as his, which is nothing compared to many others in town. But she is not oblivious to it all. With one hand placed carefully behind Lilith's back, he tries to block Mary's view of her as they both pass by the dining table on their way to the bathroom, "It starts at noon. Thanksgiving lunch should run for at least two hours. Maybe a little more. Depending how much sponsorship was obtained and food donated." With that said, he murmurs, "Excuse us. There was a mishap with spilled coffee." Their coffee cups... are gone.

Mary smiles gently at the excuse given, giving the pair this knowing look. Perhaps she thinks that they were getting a little too frisky out there. "Accidents happen." She'll make sure to say. "I hope that you both don't mind that I've already started on dessert. It was superb. I'll leave you two alone to enjoy the rest of your evening together-- And I wanted to thank you both for hosting such a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. It's been so long since I've ever felt like I were part of a family." That's like a jab at Byron really, said behind a smile.

Lilith shuffles some to make it easier to hide behind Byron's taller frame once her freeze moment is up there in those heartbeats of time staring at him, order of business and the matter of company snapping into precedent. Can always process what the HELL that was and what it means for the future when they're in the bathroom, she just needs to keep it together long enough to get there. She doesn't want to seem upset, particularly, over a coffee spill (or otherwise) and while she can see that Mrs. Thorne has some glimmer about her and might well know things, well, she doesn't assume it means people have the experiences they have or abilities without taking the time to look in that way of hers, and even if she did? She's not particularly in a mood to explain given circumstances, regardless.

Though, somewhere in the back of her mind, she makes note to look at Mary Thorne closer than she's ever actually looked at the woman next time she sees her. Now she wants to know what she's capable of, just in case. Look, old salt and Byron protectiveness aside, the woman might well be her mother in law someday if Byron and Lilith don't kill each other and explode a few city blocks doing it. You have to know what mother in laws are capable of! But this isn't really a witting thing she'll remember she's thinking until later because her arm is BURNING with sear pain, the layer the damage got to still rife with nerve endings to remind her with each step.

She's fine at pretending with speech pleasantry because she keeps it brief and her tone is amiable, which isn't too hard to do at the moment given that it's sinking in her and Byron are still alive when they weren't sure they would be when that ominous otherworldly mail warning came calling to collect them, "Bah, I'm so sorry Missus Thorne, excuse me, need a bathroom before this goes and ruins for good." Lilith can actually fix the blouse, but whatever, she's behind Byron mostly and making it seem like a coffee stain and burn because it's what he said. She even tries on a smile with lean that's intended well enough, but given the PAIN she's in at the moment, it looks more like a grit baring of teeth she doesn't quite realize that jigs up she's hurt-hurt more than coffee can do, probably, "Don't forget your fridge package, we'll see you at the meal service."

Pulling off one of those two things for show isn't bad considering they just ran out of a Dream death trap. Right now she doesn't really care, though. Ow. Alive. Ow.

Mary Thorne doesn't look like she's in any rush, simply finishing up her cake and coffee, but she is pleased to be reminded of the left overs. "That's lovely of you, Lilith. I probably would have forgotten them if you hadn't reminded me." There's no alarm in her voice, no concerned look for someone who may have realized just went on, due to her glimmer. Perhaps, she hadn't noticed anything at all. Either way, between bites of cake and sips of coffee, she'll watch with amusement until Byron and Lilith lock themselves away in his bedroom to wash off in the master bath.

By the time they return, Byron's mother would be gone.

Byron didn't have time to really take a good look at Lilith's wounds, so he's given that opportunity now that the door was shut closed. "Did you get burned?" He spins her around once, just take in the state of her, but he can see some very prominent wounds-- perhaps not in severity, but they are hard to miss.

"I'm... uh huh. I'm okay. But uh huh, I'm... Byron, one got away. And that bitch kissed your hand like a taunt, and that BETTER not have been her marking you for future engagements because I swear to everything that is good and wicked I will hunt her and I will..." Lilith kind of stops there and remembers that her entire fireball she slung at the woman Tisi in the dream, along with everything else that was thrown that way, it left her markless in the end before taunting egress and the encroaching shadow mists and tendrils chased them out. Or whatever that was. Remembering this doesn't discourage her in any way, precisely, but at least it makes her stop ranting to realize she should probably have some kind of method other than fuck-a-bitch-up if the plan still stands to go a-hunting in the end.

While Lilith is spewing this with obsessive and irrational heat during a moment of orienting, processing, and pain there in the bathroom with Byron, she starts getting out of her blouse with tug roughly at the buttons to just pop it open for getting out of. She already has to do a fix job on the clothing or just toss it, afterall, no need taking the patience required to go down one by one or to use both hands. Once it's open, though, she's ginger moving the one arm out for Byron's more proper inspection, backing into psuedo-leaned sit against the vanity while her lashes drop to inspect it too.

Eventually, after looking at the seared tender flesh that's cauterized from flash heat and force in some places, blisters in other places, she looks back up at Byron, calmer to say, "We're alive, though. Everyone is. And I didn't even set your mother on fire." A pause, "Which I am realizing HURTS after having a copycat of my own fire shot back at me twice now. At least that one wasn't all black and icky like..." She doesn't finish that thought, but she means like the char marking she was hospitalized with after the dream that looked like it had tar clinging in it too. The Dream-Shadow-Lilith did that.

This is pretty well the same space on a different arm, however, that's also a good thing because it means when the hospital discharged her for arm burn before, they sent gauze and burn cream and pain pills. No antibiotics, though, since her dose had been through IV during the stay, but exterior antibiotics might be fine, she's not sure, she just doesn't want to go to the hospital, "We have things for this from hospital discharge last time. Unless you want to call that doctor in your building to do a legitimate look and use something we don't have, we'll take care of it here and it will be fine." Her good hand reaches out for Byron's shirt at the midsection to try and untuck and lift the hem for inspection, "Are you okay? That was a big chunk of slab. And what did she say when we were leaving? It sounded foreign."

Oh yes, Byron had not forgotten the chick that grabbed his hand and kissed it out of the blue. There was some concern on his part as well, especially as he had no idea what she just did, if anything. While he doesn't look down at his hands, he can still feel the spot where she'd kissed him and that hand lightly clenches into a fist, hanging at his side. "I didn't feel anything when it happened and... it took me by surprise." He's sure it will be all right and there was nothing to be concerned about. Or so he tries to tell himself.

He remembered seeing the flash of light and then the fireball being lobbed over his head, striking a few people behind him. He'd thought Lilith was part of that, so the burn marks are what he's looking for. "Jeez, do you want me to get ice for that?" He starts off into the bathroom to dig through his medicine cabinet to look for burn cream, but the best he has is petroleum jelly, which he brings with him now. "It's a good thing you didn't set my mother on fire. My mother on fire probably means my living room on fire." He says with an amused smile despite what they are discussing.

While she's undoing his shirt to view his taut midsection, there's hardly a bruise to be seen. All the while he's trying to give a far better inspection of her arm to see whether she needs a doctor or not. "I'm fine. Just got the wind nearly knocked out of me. Trying to go hand-to-hand with an opponent when everyone else around you is firing stuff at it? Doesn't make things easy." After some assessment, he considers, "We could ask, I guess. See if he's taking new patients and fill out that paperwork."

"He offered to help out if I didn't want to use the hospital when I met him at the pool, it might not be the worst time to use your tenant directory and money and ask for a tiny housecall. Not so much because I'm bad off, but because it hurts, I don't want a burn scarred arm, and yes, I want ice, but maybe just a cold water washcloth to press on it right now. Which I can do, my hands are fine, it's just going to suck and needs to be cleaned anyway." Lilith says to Byron after a bare quirk of her lips helplessly about the bit about flaming mother spread-hazards to his nice living room. And she doesn't really need to see his shirt open to see that he's fine, but she likes to for natural reassurance purposes, hand running over the taut musculature and skin to feel him whole too.

Then she breathes out in a rush when he goes digging, knocking a hand back through her festively curled hair which has somehow escaped being tousled out of darling stylings. In fact, other than another scuff heat mark that's negligible on one of her bare calves, she seems to have gotten off quite lucky with what all was being tossed around and near her and at her in spells, good thing she kills and moves in heels well. Lilith pushes out of her lean on the vanity to get a washcloth out of the cabinet while he returns with petroleum jelly, which she's not sure about, hell, she's a cheater healer, she goes from the inside, not the outside and makes the body do all the mending work with pokes and attuning and aligning on a tiny level.

"Alternatively, on the way to holiday aid serving tomorrow, I guess I could stop into urgent care to ensure it's not going to get infected if we take care of it ourselves. I'm going to have to sleep on my left side, either way, which is annoying, I like the right. I'm taking your side of the bed to make it less strange feeling during the swap, do you love me enough for all that?" The water comes on and the fabric is doused with cold and not so much wrung before she gently presses it dripping to hold at her arm with an initial hiss and 'ahh' to follow, at least until the heat of the burn warms up the rag over time to make her re-wet for relief, "Hey. Babe? Why were people talking about hearing something? I don't know if I block everything out when I get immediately aggressive like that, but I didn't hear anything."

Byron is already looking through the numbers on his phone, trying to remember just which tenant she's talking about, by name. He knows that there are a few medical types like Sutton and now Bennie who reside there. Even some doctors who work at the hospital. But he knows just the person she's referring to. "I have no idea what that was. I only took French in high school," She'd know that! And he'd have a few dots in it too, if he wasn't working on other things. "Not... whatever that was."

Perhaps the whole ordeal hasn't settled into his mind as of yet. These invitations that were sent out, their rewards should have been punishments. And in a way, it was... but they got out of it. "Whoever it was picked just the right time to host the damn thing. Next time, I won't be caught as caught off guard." He's talking about firearms and weapons of that nature. The phone to his hear now, his brow arches at the question asked. "You didn't hear the piano music then? It was some happy melody playing somewhere in the darkness behind the guy. Marshall brought it up, so I thought everyone could hear it."

"I guess not, or I was fixated on the issue at hand." Lilith works her bottom lip between her teeth while standing there holding the next round of cold-water soaked cloth to her arm and watching Byron go through his phone to choose a contact. She's visibly thinking while standing there in a nude-pinkish bra with satin cups and lace to give everything a lovely boost, something that blended under the delicate hue of the silk blouse that once went with her flare skirt, now charred on the bathroom floor where it fell. Then, after swallowing down, she starts to say, "That lantern..." She needs time to think about what she's trying to say or what bothers her about what it could do or what it maybe represented.

Her adrenaline is coming down too, she's not all quick action with her arm and talking kind of fast and breathless now that she knows they're both okay and it's over and done with. She's even getting used to the pain of incessant burning at her arm with adjusting tolerance and after dropping the cloth into the sink, she steps into Byron to breathe outward into his shirt with a shudder that marks the rest of her comedown from their lives being endangered, the processing, the need to feel him and smell him with her good arm reaching to snag around him, "C'mere. There's something nagging me about all of that but I can't slow my mind down enough to figure out what it is right now. Maybe I need to feel that it's done, first, after all our anxiety built up for days about it, terrible deadly encounter aside. Breathe and come down with me, baby."

Byron is really always kind of Byron in handling things, but this one kind of worked into their system before it even happened thanks to the mail, so the adrenaline ramping is a little up high to fall down from, at least for Lilith (who was a nice and morbid brand of we're-all-gonna-die in that pretty little dark head of hers).

Even at this hour it looks like Byron's got someone on the phone, "This is Byron Thorne." Yes, the guy's landlord, "Dr. Winters, I apologize for calling you at this hour, but I was wondering if you would be able to come up to the Penthouse for a visit. We have a situation where my girlfriend got burned," By something... "While we were preparing Thanksgiving Dinner. I mean, if it's not too late and you're accepting new patients." Even if this is an random house call in itself.

He's easily drawn into her embrace, his free arm wrapping around her as well to hold her close. Even as he's speaking to Jacob, he's staring deeply into her eyes, a slight smile at his lips. "I don't think we've seen the last of any of this. We were put on a list, invitations were sent, supposedly, not by the guy we dispatched." He's not quite sure if the ringleader is dead, but he did seem him get absorbed into the darkness. "The lantern though, that was... weird. And terrifying with what it could do. It could do exactly what you can do..." Which is saying a lot.

Once the guy on the other line picks up, Byron immediately says, "I'll unlock the Penthouse button to the elevator. " For all he knows, the slurring might be the sound of a guy just waking up! "No, we're out of any immediate danger. Don't worry, the building isn't going to burn down." He then says with a shake of his head, "So Dr. Winters is on his way up. I need to let him in." Leaning in close, he noses against her, before meeting her lips with his own.

"It... also seemed to be soaking up or alerting when I did things with my abilities that people can't see. As soon as I exerted to try and, oh hell, Carver calls it jinxing, but... I did that to him on the sly to turn things for our better when things broke out, and it... flashed. And it kept doing it when... then there was the mirror effect of fireballs, which--" Lilith pauses, latched firm to listen to Byron talk into the phone before speaking through some kind of thought process, her eyes fond and relieved for Byron's own dark ones before they take a turn for deeply pensive, "He didn't seem afraid of us and what we could do until the lantern broke. Which you notice, gunfire did it, not..." Oh, she doesn't like what she's imagining now, dark agents walking around with lanterns like that, alerting to what they do, soaking up what they do to be used against them, is that what it was really...

There's a few quick bats of Lilith's mascara-thickened lashes before she smiles some at Byron and knocks the unpleasant thoughts out of her head, hand flatting with rub on his chest before he speaks as to the doctor arriving and she tips her face up for a kiss, "I'll go put on a camisole so I don't have to meet with him in a bra. Be right out."

"Let's hope that's the last of it. The lantern." Byron is quick to say in a most reassuring way. He's even starting to button up on his shirt again, leaning in for one last kiss before asking, curiously, "You can.. jinx people?" He's not sure how that and healing and repairing things go hand and hand, but this glimmer stuff was a mystery. "I don't know if anything I was doing had any effect, but those fuckers were quick and I couldn't reach them in time to prevent anything from happening." As far as he knows. If it had worked, Cotard would have been stunned. He knows that much.

He then draws away to fidget with the elevator and waiting for the doctor's arrival. That's when he notices that his mother had left, but she had cleaned up her dessert mess, so there's that.

A little less than five minutes later, there's a buzzing on the door. And then, without waiting for a reply, a knocking sound. "Hello, someone called for a doctor?" Jacob calls out. Probably loud enough for others to hear if this he wasn't at the entrance to the penthouse suite.

At the door, Jacob stands in a dark colored t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. His ginger hair's slightly tousled, perhaps disturbed some thing or other. He's got a large black bag in one hand. It might be recognized as a doctor's bag, even, perhaps from a simpler time where house calls such as this that didn't involve EMS attending were more common.

Once the elevator was set to allow visitors up to the Penthouse for the next half an hour, Byron makes himself another cup of coffee with a dash of whiskey as he awaits Jacob's arrival. So once the buzzer is heard, there's an idle look given the security display showing the hallway right outside of his door. Thorne himself is dressed for a Thanksgiving Dinner evening... an early Thanksgiving Dinner by a few days. Dressed in navy blazer and black slacks combo, the buttoned down shirt beneath is untucked but fully buttoned, he greets the guy with a cup of good stuff in hand. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." He'll stand out of the way to allow Jacob to pass through. "Lilith is getting," dressed, "changed right now. Getting out of the burned clothes." Leading the way, he raps at his own bedroom door, "Lil, Dr. Winters is here."

"Go ahead and come in if you want to do it in here, otherwise I can come out there, sorry, got distracted." Lilith has her phone in hand and a bit of a bothered expression before she sets it aside on the bedstand next to where she's edge seated when the door opens. She's went ahead and done away with the heels and skirt too, wearing a soft pair of floral lounge pants with a black camisole that leaves her arms bare. Rising up to approach, it's apparent that she was dressed up herself this evening before this clothing shift, most likely, given her dolled up state with makeup and curled hair she's left down because she couldn't do a one-handed pony tail (she tried) without lifting the other hand and arm to help.

And that arm is pretty nastily seared with spaces of cauterized layer burn and blistering in spells on one side, upper arm on the outside, down to the elbow. Also, it's technically an electrical burn from extreme electricity if these things are notable at all. They're both blaming the reflected fireball, which did actually blow her sleeve into flame at the time, but it got beaten out before a burn. She was so adrenaline high, she doesn't remember being arc-struck by electricity, she just remembers a jolt of searing pain through her limb and watching where Byron was going, ready to leap in front of that slab flying his way. She also knew he'd possibly shake the shit out of her for that if she survived it, so it was a pretty conflicted moment, assuming she was even quick enough (she wasn't, him yelling NO in her imagination stalled her too much in the end).

"Hey doc. No speedo tonight?" Despite what looks painful, Lilith seems to be decently Lilith for company based on what he's seen and heard out of her before-- the signature dry charm and wit that went with then comes out now in the greeting.

The doctor smiles politely at his landlord, and then takes a single step inside. bag in tow. "Good evening."

Jacob probably smells slightly of alcohol, whiskey as well, but his demeanor doesn't betray the few shots that he has in him witha casual glance. The various smells of the dinner, successfully prepared or no, probably contribute to hiding this as well.

"No worries, Mr.. Thorne, yes? Not too much trouble to take an elevator a few floors up." His green eyes scan the penthouse, looking for the injured person in particular. Hearing Lilith's voice, he starts walking towards it, heading into the other room after shooting Byron a quick glance, possibly seeking unspoken permission to enter the further threshold, but not waiting for a response.

"Oh. Hi again. No, not tonight." Jacob reaches out to examine the woman's injury, making a slight face of concern. "Yeah, that doesn't look terribly great. How do you feel?" He lifts a hand to her forehead, checking for clammy skin, an indicator of a shock response. "I assume that you'd prefer this to be.. fixed, rather than just cleaning and bandaging the wound?" His eyes dart back towards Byron's general location when he last saw the man. In a lower tone, he asks Lilith, "He's aware of .., yes?" He doesn't explicitly say that he's referring to the glimmer, but given Byron's own, and his previous recognizance of Lilith's from their prior encounter, his meaning is probably pretty clear.

While Byron will enter into the room, he doesn't crowd around, giving Jacob some room to breathe and work. Lilith's comments about the speedos gets a lift of the brow, his dark gaze falling back on the other man, trying to picture whether he'd be the type to sport such, but this is short-lived. Now, he won't speak up for Lilith when she's in what way she'd like him to work on her. Just as with the doctor, it's clear to him as well that Jacob shines. His light is as bright as Lilith does-- which in itself, is annoying and thus, he takes a step back, giving them even more space.

Despite seeing the man's inner light, Byron can't quite tell what the man can do, though he may gauge a hint of a Reader's powers within, but that's about it. "Let me know if there's anything that I can help you with. If you like, I can brew up a cup of coffee." Most like espresso and a latte to boot.

Lilith breathes relief when Jacob makes the offer and tips a ready nod to that, and the fact that yes, this is a glimmer-savvy household and handsome fellow. Her good hand knocks back through her hair before she starts to wander over to have a seat once she's felt for temperature and shock gauging. She likes to be seated when her whole body is kickstarted from the insides to do accelerated mending and she looks over at Byron's offering, and she seems quite alright in the shock department, if a little sobered in demeanor in general. But then again, whatever happened probably wasn't the stove, so, probably not surprising, "Can I have wine, babe? I won't need a pain pill after he's finished."

That probably says the rest of the confirmation as to how this is going to go down and she looks at Jacob with a slight pull of helpless smile despite the look down at her arm there while speaking, "Okay. Good. You know what you are and know how to use it. Not everyone does, you know, even when we can see it, so I try to let it come out ah. After I've had time to get some clues, I guess. I guess it's like, some unspoken courtesy I've developed. Like if they keep not-knowing, it means they go longer without knowing the bad stuff. I don't know. I'm rambling. This hurts. It's been an... interesting day." A pause, "We have dessert too, if you want some with coffee."

Jacob sets his bag down with a soft sigh, then shakes his head. "No, thank you, Mr Thorne. This shouldn't take long." The doctor is somewhat muscled, though not so much that it's readily obvious other than some minor definition on his exposed forearms. He's not exactly rippling out of his t-shirt by a long shot, but he is rather on the tall side. But Byron's about the same height, so who can say, really?

The doctor examines Lilith a bit further. Their encounter was fairly brief, and while he wasn't expecting to run into her again on this visit upstairs, it wasn't the most surprising thing in the world given the way their conversation went about her frequently needing hospitals. "I guess you weren't kidding about the whole getting hurt thing." A pause as the woman speaks. "No, I find that it's best to be subtle about this sort of thing. It can lead to some.. unexpected situations if people aren't expecting it." Another brief pause, not answering the offer of dessert, at least not initially. "Not sure if you've been on the receiving end, but you shouldn't feel much more than a tingle.."

The doctor reaches out, gently placing his hand on Lilith's arm, and does his thing. His first experience with his ability was in a trauma situation during his medical residency, so there wasn't exactly much of an opportunity to take a seat. Regardless, in mere seconds, the wound closes itself, new layers of fresh skin taking place of the damaged ones. Any shreds of fabric that might've been burned through and were attached to the woman's skin are removed as well. "I think that should do it." He takes his hand away from Lilith's elbow, giving it a cursory inspection. Looks like it never happened, outside of a bit of minor swelling that fades rapidly over the subsequent seconds. "Feeling better?" he asks, as he staggers on his feet a moment before regaining his balance and clearing his throat softly. "Mm. Sometimes takes a little out of me."

That's one glass of wine. Byron will continue to hover and wait for Jacob's drink order if he has one. Once the man politely dismisses his offer, Thorne will wander out into the main room to pour Lilith that glass of wine.

Mary Thorne had cleaned up the dishes that she'd used for dessert, leaving the pumpkin flavored cheesecake left out in the open. He packs this away for now, covering it before placing it into the refrigerator. An uneasy look is then given the French doors leading out to the terrace. It was just moments ago when they'd stepped outside for a breather, only to find themselves transported who knows where. This thought, in turn, is what brings that spiked espresso to his lips for another much needed sip.

Setting the cup down, he reaches up into one of the cabinets for a wine glass. Due to the little dinner party, they already had two bottles open, so he chooses one of, a nice red, to pour. He's a man who isn't in any rush right now. In fact, this gives him time to reflect on everything that they'd just gone through moments ago and what it all could mean for them in the future.

Eventually, he reappears at the doorway, wine glass in one hand, coffee much in the other. He takes another sip. "Everything alright?"

"Mmhm. I'm pretty 'pass' on awkward conversations, that's probably the real deterrent nowadays, not because I'm courteous, exactly." Lilith admits to Jacob, watching him approach with an intake of breath to hold, her eyes fixing with swap to watch Byron move into the next room suddenly when he turns to get the wine-- she may not be in shock, but there's something necessary about needing to see him cross the threshold of the room and ALSO see him move along the hallway (he might disappear just walking through the door again, this time without her, oh shit oh shit oh shit). Suddenly, she gasps and it's timed with the touch on her arm, but it... might not be related given where her eyes are fixed.

But then she blinks a few times fast, Byron is walking in the hall just fine. And maybe there's not shock on her from her ordeal, but there might be a little bit of residual PTSD involved with doorways for the next little bit given how recent things happened and how they happened. After a wet of her lips, Lilith quickly clarifies, "It's fine, I've done this before, far worse circumstances, this is surface, it's just... yes, tingle, we'll go with that." It's weird, okay, to be on the receiving end, despite being able to give it, but she doesn't say that. The day she becomes acclimated, though, she thinks it's the day she should maybe take steps to STOP getting hurt somehow.

His exerting taking something out of him, though, it has Lilith watching Jacob with a hint of interest suddenly, despite the seizing heartbeats of panic that took her there for a spell. She likes watching others like her work and she likes to see their reaction to it, she's a bit unabashed. Then she nods solidly and finally looks at her arm again with a slight smile, one that grows as she looks at Byron in the doorway with a hand reaching out for him and the wine glass, "Yes and yes. Burns are worse than being smashed, I think, because they... well, they burn the WHOLE time. Makes me kind of feel bad for the times I've set someone on fire." Okay, that's a thing, maybe, is she serious? Look at her sitting cute and reaching for that wine glass with the sudden glow of pain relief upon her, surely not.

"Thank you, very much. You alright there? It's understandable."

Jacob holds a hand up in slight.. protest, is it? More like reassurance. Regardless, he's steady on his feet now and looks no worse for wear, somewhat messy appearance from his usual professional attire notwithstanding. "I'm alright, thank you. And you're welcome. I make it a habit to not ask about.. unusual injuries like these, so I won't ask, but my professional opinion is that you try to avoid this kind of thing in the future." He crouches, grabbing his bag by the handle, and then straightening back up.

The mention of awkward conversations gets no more than a quirk of the eyebrow from the ginger man, no sign of recognizance in that regard. Either he's not aware of Them, or hasn't connected their omnipresence with his unspoken family trauma. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of burns. Prefer to deal with them like this. Don't have to deal with the.. smell." He clears his throat again, rather than addressing the mention of setting people on fire, his pale cheeks flushing red upon remembering something that he'd really rather not.

"Well, if that's everything, I think I'm going to head back down to my apartment and lie down. Any other second degree burns up here that you need help with?" His gaze shifts from Lilith to Byron as he reappears, the question having being addressed to both, not that it's necessary in the first place. He hopes.

Being the professional sort that he is, Byron does have a few questions on his mind as he observes what little that he can of the procedure done. If all that the man did was rub some ointment into her irritated flesh, he'd still see the discoloration of her injury. That's where his eyes go to immediately, to see if he can find any remnants of the burn. The lack thereof is all that he needed to witness. He makes no comment about this.

In fact, he'll flash over a smile towards Lilith and her grabby hands, leaning in to pass her the glass of red wine. "Looking good." He's probably talking about her injury, but he could be referring to her, appearance-wise, as well. Straightening up with his newly free hand tucked into his pants pocket, he looks to Jacob, "Thank you again for coming on such short notice. I hope I didn't wake you." Then those questions come to mind, "Contact me tomorrow and we can discuss the paperwork needed for you to accept Lilith as a new patient of yours. We can get the medical and insurance information all filled out then." Even if someone uses their Talents to heal, he'll assume that just like with any medical office, one should expect compensation-- unless you're healing a friend. With that said, he looks ready to lead the way back out to the elevator.

Lilith may be a scrappy and steadily independent little woman that's highly dangerous when inclined by all outward appearances, even with limited exposure, but she sure lets Byron handle the patient and insurance and business end of things on her behalf without a bat of a lash or a pipe in. Instead, she just takes the wine from Byron with an upwards smile of gratitude for the delivery and the compliment, drinks from it deeply while listening, then rises to test out her arm some before announcing, "I'll wash all this pretty warpaint off while you see the doctor out. Don't think I need it anymore to do battle with the day as a whole, unless you wanna fight me when you come back in, handsome." That might be code for something, but she's not shooting him winks or all flirtatious grin about it like a lot of other women might be. She just deadpans it, company be damned.

Carrying her wine glass for the adjacent bathroom to let the guys go out, she calls after, "Thanks again. I'll... see you around, I'm sure. That sounds awful, actually, considering what just happened, but I mean it in a good way, I think. Mm, nevermind, I quit at being social. Good night, doc!"

The doctor takes a few steps along with Byron towards the entrance to the suite. "Quite alright. It looked pretty painful. I was up, anyways."

Mention of paperwork and such makes him blink. He's still pretty new to the ins and outs of running his practice, so that aspect had not crossed his mind. He digs into his wallet with his free hand, and rescues a crisp business card, giving it a quick inspection to ensure that it's the intended card, then holds it out to Byron. "My office is on Maple. If you don't hear from me, Miss Addington at the office can arrange things. Otherwise.. you know where to find me." He raises his voice slightly so that he can be heard back to the bedroom. "I hope you both have a better evening."

And with that, he slips out the door to the suite's elevator lobby once the two of them reach it with a polite nod to Byron.

Leading the way out, the front door swung wide open, giving full view of the elevator just across from it, Byron takes the offered business card. Dark brown eyes lower to take in all of the information given, they lift curiously when this Miss Addington is mentioned. He looks somewhat amused even if he doesn't openly question it. What he would like to know is whether Margaret Addington knows that one of her blood is working at a doctor's office now. He considers this for a moment, looking as if he might say something, but instead all that comes out is, "Good night. You'll be hearing from me in the morning." He'll assume that Winters' practice runs on regular business hours and Thorne, himself, is always up bright and early.

The business card tucked into pants pocket for now, he finishes off the rest of his coffee, setting the empty cup on the kitchen island. Then he starts to undo his watch. a Rolex of all things. He should know better than to wear the expensive stuff, especially on threat of being summoned into a Dream, if that's what it was. Checking the time and seeing whether it's still running, he'll leave it resting on his bedroom drawer for now as he works on removing his navy jacket. "So he's like you, that one?"

The cuffs of his jacket are splashed with blood, not his own, so all that he does with it is fold it neatly to drape over the back of a chair so it can be sent to the cleaners. "He definitely has a similar light to you. So I've noticed." With deft fingers, he works on undoing the buttons of his shirt, looking to be preparing for a quick shower or just to hop into bed after a crazy evening. No one would blame him if it were the latter.

Settling himself down at the edge of his bed, his shirt now hung open, he kicks off his shoes and leans forward to remove his socks. In his mind, he's still concerned that whatever happened to them tonight, might try to finish what they started. But when?

"Yes, there's a likeness. He's not as..." Strong? Capable in abilities? Not as much rumbling around in there waiting to rip ass? How to explain these things sometimes, jeez. She just assumes Byron gets it before making a hand gesture to put herself near the top and then down toward the middle afterwards, like she's gap comparing them, "...but it's good to have someone that knows how to do that living in the building when it comes to our luck, mm?" Lilith has washed her face and brushed the curls to soft and loose and stripped out of the lounge pants to be camisole and panties while kneeled at sit in the middle of the bed with her wine glass.

When Byron prepares with cuffs and watch before seating himself on the edge of the bed, Lilith drains the rest of her wine and then walks on her knees to reach it aside for placement on the bedside table. Then she nudges into bodily lean with cuddle into the man's back before helping to get him out of his shirt, then undoing his belt buckle with reach around from behind. Her lips kiss at the back edge of his ear, his neck, his line of shoulder tense with worry, not because she doesn't have the same worries, but she's... feeling a little bit accomplished too with the day settling in twice over, "Hey. It's okay. Whatever that was, we bothered them enough to make them backpedal and regroup, at least, I don't think we're going to fall right back into it when we go to sleep."

Lilith kisses at the nape of Byron's neck as her hands go to his shoulders for a kneading rub once she has his pants unfastened, murmuring warmly, "And you know what? We made a whole dinner and ate it like fancy, well-adjusted adult people who know how to behave. It reminded me of some make-believe version we used to put on where you're rich and I'm a pretty fancy looking lady. But this time it was real. Then we defied some deadly odds and we're right here, aren't we? So if the theme of the day is thankful..."

The brunette leans around with her hair at tickle to kiss at the corner of Byron's mouth and bearded cheek from an angle while catching his gaze seriously, "I'm incredibly thankful. C'mere to bed."