2019-11-30 - Cookies Calling!

Lilith had excess energy (unwitting anxiety) after getting off of the early shift around the shop and went to Byron's with the stuff to make cookies. She left the counter help for purchases that the temp agency has been shuffling over to do cashier work and she left her number so that pictures and questions can be texted in the meantime during the busier holiday season. Luckily, the old guy they sent this time has some wits about him and an idea of value vs non-value, even if he doesn't know exact figures, and while he's older and annoying with the old man stories and calls her 'young lady' as his temporary boss, it makes Lilith feel a little better about cutting out for the day.

So, with that excess energy, she has cookies now, and she has to-go coffee cups just the way Isabella and Lilith like coffee, but she doesn't knock right away. She parks near where the familiar Jeep is instead and takes a moment to look at the houseboat, then walks around it like a creeper just for the sake of being nosy and seeing the view. Then she knocks. Granted, Isabella is expecting her after some poke texts to see if the woman is home for a visit.

Today, Lilith is wearing a pair of comfortable and sleek fitted black leggings with an ivory figure-skimming slouch sweater with a higher cowl neck to fall in drape. Her floral embroidered leather jacket and fitted calf boots are black with a little collective of decorative buckles and zippers on each, and while she does have a little make up on, it's accent with her hair twisted up in one of those effortlessly lazy, stylish twist knots that some girls can pull off because Lilith's just got that kind of luck working for her even when things suck. Fabulous hair and pretty eyes doesn't really balance those kinds of things out much in her book, though.

"Stalker calling!"

The greeting has the door opening immediately; proof positive that Isabella Reede's survival instincts may not be on par with an average human being's. There's a laugh as she pushes the door open for the brunette to enter, kissing the air next to her cheek. "Well, with a hello like that who could resist?" she asks, closing the door behind her and waving her in. "Pardon the mess, I'm seriously running out of room."

Her nerd palace is in full display - that is, the small mountains of texts, academic publications, issues of National Geographic cluttered around the couch area and the coffee table, situated next to her laptop and notepad with a few scattered pens and highlighters. But the rest of the living space is relatively neat and orderly - Captain Reede has done a remarkable job refinishing, refurbishing and renovating the two-tiered catamaran into a residence that would rival most studio apartments in cities that are more modern and metropolitan than Gray Harbor.

Her hostess looks somewhat tired, but she's bright-eyed, as always whenever she's recovering from the throes of a genuine laugh, her dark hair swept from her face and left in a messy twist, pinned in place by a pen, and dressed in a soft shirt dyed a deep green, with over-long sleeves that extend to the fingertips, a pair of jeans shorts that lived its former life as a pair of actual jeans, and black knit-socks that pull up to the mid-thigh. Her moonstone pendant hangs in its usual place.

Her fingers are bandaged, gauze taped over the long appendages and criss-crossing over the back of her hands to be secured at the wrists, but Lilith can sense, at least, that these new injuries are not debilitating in the least.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, how are you today?"

"I'm alright. All amped up for some reason, body is... I don't know. Reacting to things, I guess, behind all the content happy that other things bring. But on the plus side, it had me pacing around enough to turn it into cookies. And when I stopped at the store to buy the stuff for it, I got to-go coffee cups and did fancy espresso myself in Byron's machine because I didn't feel like going into the coffee shop and getting pulled into conversation if I ran into someone I knew. Not that I'm in a mood or anything, just... I don't know. Work was busy and I'm sick of stupid small talk, I'm bad at it on my best days, and my new temp is an old guy that talks my face off with stories I only thirty percent care about."

Lilith makes honest answer at length instead of the kinds of answers other people probably tend to make when asked, which probably notes the growing rapport and bond between the two women the way she starts going off with a tiny puff of air to note frustration over what she can't quite pin down to cooperate in her body. In fact, once she's in and looking around, she's still kind of pace-wander about it before remembering to put the ziplock of brownie cookies (with chewy centers and crunchy edges) down on a table with the coffees where there's space.

Then when she looks at Isabella instead of the space, she blinks a couple of times and seems to... pick up on the injury before even noting where the source is, somehow, but then, that's probably not that surprising given how she tends to see people and things in her way, especially when company is familiar. Landing her eyes on the woman's hands, she squints briefly, "Have you been in a knock down drag out brawl like a boxer or is that from..." Hell, it could be anything, couldn't it? It's just the way life is here, and her weight shifts between hips.

All amped up, for some reason.

That draws a long pause from Isabella as she searches Lilith's face, but she doesn't launch into whatever theory she has going in that perpetually rapid-churning mind just yet. Instead, she pulls out a stool for the other woman so she could sit with her at the counter, away from the living area that she has re-purposed as an office. "Homemade cookies? You're so good to me." The fact that it's packed in a ziplock container gives it away as she sinks herself in a chair near her friend. There's another laugh when she talks about her day.

"Honestly, it's great that you're having some normal days again, even if it does mean humoring some old guy who won't stop telling you stories. And thanks a lot for the coffee, I was just starting to think that I could use another cup." She draws one of them towards her - she and Lilith take theirs the same way, if nothing else further evidence that they're meant to get along.

The bandaged fingers wave to the side. "I was clumsy - Daddy has an armory that I have to look after now and then back at the house. It's self-inflicted, I assure you." After another long moment of looking at her, she leans forward. "I think I know why you're amped up," she murmurs, easing those fingers to stroke the air near her fellow brunette, as if she could touch the ephemeral threads of color she could see. "I've a pretty good memory, your shine's changed a little."

Lilith eyes those hands a beat, then nods with acceptance and leaves the urge to fix the skin of her friend from the inside. And on other fronts when she's up for survey? Lilith suspects. She can't see or feel herself quite like others do, just like she can't heal herself, but she does feel everything tumbling around inside and all that tightness in her chest that isn't just anxiety over other matters. It's physical manifest of trying to contain the 'more' that she is, that Isabella takes a moment to hone in on and point out. Last time she felt like this, it was after the stress and trauma of the whole ring and bridge incident, but given how she tends to try and block those times out now for the sake of moving on to other (stressful) things, she doesn't really put two and two together.

Mostly, she just kind of looks at the other woman dubiously and her eyes slip to follow the fingertips dusting the air near her with thoughtful gesture of appraisal after seating herself on the stool offered. Also, she tries to not feel like an overpowered mutant instead of fully human. After a twist of her lips to one side, she sighs and says to Isabella, "Well. Shit." That's about the extent of what she can come up with, really, but after a beat of pause, she decides, "Maybe I can cut someone's head clean off now. I'll have to try that."

Look, morbid humor is all she really has to cope with being horribly dangerous, sometimes unwittingly, and she's not afraid to use it, seems. Her tone of voice is drab and dry and her brows knit down a touch with the words, as if she's considering whether or not she can for real there for a tick. Then she bats it all away with her lashes to look at Isabella while picking up her coffee to drink and opening the bag of cookies.

"I should probably warn Byron, I guess, before I start freaking him out with power slips during the night. Happens sometimes when things are pitching around trying to get out of the insides." Then again, she doesn't sound real sure on how to bring that up, nor does she feel particularly ready to acknowledge that she's had that much of a notch pried open from use or stress or whatever. She mentally notes ways to test, perhaps, because there's not really a guide for these sorts of matters, "I don't know, though, sucky Christmas decorating talk to tell the man you love you're even more Jean Gray waiting to explode the world on accident. Speaking of explosions, if that lantern thing mirrored any of my fire back on you... sorry. I couldn't tell if it was reflecting or soaking up and mimicking what I was doing because... well. Mmm."

Then Lilith pauses, looking ready as hell to move on from the subject of her, even if it means even more unpleasant subjects, "Did you catch what that bitch said when we were leaving? It sounded foreign and I was trying not to yank out her hair on principle for kissing on Byron. I might have some possessive issues. But! I mean... ugh."

Well, shit.

"That's what everyone else in this town ought to be saying, right now, if they can see you the way I do," Isabella says with a laugh, lowering her hand and letting it rest on her knee. "You've changed - amplified, somehow, hence why I said I know why. Anyone with the sense can probably feel it for a good block or so, but considering how much practice we've been getting lately at beating back whatever else is there around here, it's not really surprising. The power's like a muscle - the potential is always there, but it needs to be exercised. That's what I think, at least, and I think it parses with everyone else I know. Though if you're going to decapitate anyone, not in the houseboat, please. Space is at a premium, and the counters are white." She winks at her there.

She reaches out for a cookie. "Warning him's probably a good idea," she says of Byron. "Especially if the two of you are sharing space. I'm not quite sure what that means for menders, but we can figure it out together, if you would like - carefully. I've been thinking about balance, lately, after the latest debacle we've shared together." She pauses to nibble on the cookie - she's not too much of a fan of sweets, but she has an appreciation for good food in general, and there's a mumble of pleasure when she tastes Lilith's baking. "Mrph. This is good."

After a swallow, she continues. "Trying to find a line between overuse and just enough use to keep this sharp." She taps her temple. "Because I know skills degrade if you don't use them." She is a poster child for that side of the blade. "Anyway, don't worry about the lantern thing, I'm just glad we were able to get out of there alive. Anything can happen in a Dream, and especially when They're involved."

The last remarks has her groaning quietly. "It's Greek," she tells her. "Ancient Greek, and the only reason why I know that is that I took it as an emphasis. Greek and Roman artifacts and culture. She said it is certain." She rubs her face with a hand. "She was chastizing all of us about how we shouldn't be treating it as a battle, but as a puzzle, so I tried it her way when I got home from the houseboat and I did some research. I think I know who she is."

"No beheading in the houseboat, got it." Lilith says after listening to Isabella's explanation on the flexing of power and conclusions she's drawn about how natural it might be for Lilith to be honing and expanding as far as capability and sheer raw strength goes. And she seems pretty interested in the idea of it, because it sounds a lot better than just gradually expanding like a star set to explode for being too bright. Comfort? Not quite. Because... excess healing drawing attention put aside, balance is an issue for her and nothing is certainly going to atrophy. People have no clue how much she relies on her glimmer as a whole sometimes, or the way it's habit for small things, or like heroin when she's upset.

After practically shoving in a cookie during that listening spell, she nods some to the idea of telling Byron something might be shaky inside her for a while as she adjusts, and she knows it's for his general safety and part of sharing, but it's... squirmy to think about. So she doesn't think about it right now, she gets another cookie once she's had herself a squirm on that stool all nice and subtle to go with that nod, a boot hooking at stool rung with readjustment afterwards, "I use my powers a lot. It's work related as much as anything else. Increases the profit margins heavily to restore what comes in." Also to scrub notation from guns and jewelry that's being fenced, repair stolen electronics, etc, but you know, not worth mentioning 'cause dirt naps and jail potential and all.

"I also do it without realizing so much as habit crutch. Like... beer bottle caps, lighting cigarettes, I should work on that at the very least, I guess. But then there's the issue of it feeling good when I'm upset and the ways I take out aggression, so I just... hell, we should go to the shooting range or something more. Or box each other or..." Only one of those suggestions is probably a good one and maybe a poor substitute, but forward thinking when it comes to wanting to destroy things on a whim is maybe a good practice, "I mean, I can only fuck the hell out of Byron so much. Man has a job and he's not a piece of fancy Swedish sex tech I can keep charged on a whim. Close, though. Probably not Swedish. Can totally buzz people. Makes me orgasm like a champ. See? Close enough."

Lilith seems to be rebounding back to off the cuff accepting-her-lot chatty instead of vaguely uncomfortable with... well, herself, but when the groan sounds from Isabella at the question and the answer about Greek parting words in a whole heap of dangerous encounters comes out, she stops chewing. After sitting a beat, she drinks from her coffee and admits, "The lantern bothers me because what if all these beings on Their side have one and..." Yes, it'd have been very bad if they couldn't use glimmer and had no way to bust the thing, and if the group had been any less capable or stronger. One of them approached solo like that? Lilith doesn't complete that creeptastic and dangerous thought, "Who is she? I thought I saw her outside the shop and got paranoid, then thought I saw her at the parking garage at Byron's building, but when I did the double take, nothing was there or it was someone else. Thought it was just be being me with the idea someone marked Byron with a kiss and is going to take him from me now."

"I know - honestly, all the menders I know are powerhouses," Isabella tells her simply. "You most of all, and I know curbing use is hard. I mean, it's part of us, it's as natural to us as breathing. But you heard what they said - healers are especially at risk and people like you, Bennie, Erin and August are in Their radar in the worst way. I doubt that we can outright prevent the risk, but if we could mitigate it, we definitely should." She frowns as she taps her finger lightly on her countertop. "They're equipped with shit we don't understand and we can't fight what we don't know - but even with efforts levied in the direction of correcting that, it's going to take time too, and this..." She gestures to Lilith's frame. "Is happening now." There's a hint of a smile, here. "You're my friend, Lil. I just want you to be as safe as you can be."

Her alternatives earn her a small grin. "I'm happy to go shooting with you as much as you like. Daddy's got an armory, we can take the pistols and sniper rifles out and we can see just how well we handle the kickback on those monsters." And she starts laughing when she talks about Byron that way. "Well, doesn't mean you can't have him any way you can get him, I think, but yeah, if it's aggression that's spurring you to use, we can always come up with a way to counter that together, if you would like."

Taking another drink of her coffee, she turns her attention to the latest set of queries. "She's a Fury. As in, Erinyes, from Greek Mythology. But I don't mean the legend, or anything inspired by the legend. I'm absolutely certain that she's the source that inspired the myth. And it tracks - the Furies were the goddesses that the Gods dispatched to punish humankind for their crimes. Our reward, as the invitation said. But all I know of her is from the old stories - like I was telling Alexander and August today, I'm pretty sure the reality is going to be a lot different than the stories suggest, but I know I'm not wrong on this one. So she's old and relatively powerful. She said it, when we left - she could always make more."

She wrinkles her nose faintly. "And honestly, if she's only middle management, I shudder to think who her boss is and what said boss inspired through the course of human history."

"I'll try to be more mindful where I can." Lilith assures Isabella without any real promises, though she seems to mean it well enough. It's just harder than she can explain, really, and she may not even have to explain much. After drinking from her coffee again and quirking a tiny grin at the shooting and kick back comment, as well as the Byron-as-a-body-toy encouragement, she lowers her cup and gets out another cookie to start breaking into quarters absently. She eats it in pieces after a solid nod, "I like guns. Side effect of pawn and... well, the way I used to try and stress relief and protect myself in Miami, going out to meet strangers as part of the job."

Then after listening to Isabella, her eyes widen and she seems to have doubts, as if perhaps they're copycatting the story and not the more scary notion that this being or woman that was left behind during the incident was the source of such stories. Her mouth opens and closes automatically as she takes in a breath and starts to interject, but then Isabella says she knows she's not wrong and well. That's that. Lilith gets that, even if Isabella is wrong, and hell, why not, everything else is terribly dangerous and scary isn't it? They have no clue how long strange has been happening because life started way before they got to Gray Harbor, that's for certain. As an archeologist, the woman well has a concept of that while lots of others have trouble remembering or fathoming the general existing of the past and what it means for today.

Lilith paid attention in school and she liked the mythology unit in high school English class, and it's not like she had a lot to do other than school work back then, cutting everyone out like she did. So suddenly she remembers something about the Furies that makes her set her teeth on edge before neatly putting down her coffee and swallowing, "There's three, isn't there? In the stories. I really hope in this case... it's just the one. Not that I want one. But... mm. I think I need time to process the general HUGE of that implication, maybe." She says it quite calmly, despite needing just that moment for it to really sink in. A FURY? Jesus! So she goes with...

"How was your Thanksgiving, before I forget?"

"Did you get harassed a lot in Miami?" Isabella wonders, because of course she would ask, her lips already pressing together and wondering whether it's too late to fly cross-country to find whoever dared and lock them inside trunks of cars before letting them sink slowly in alligator-infested swamps. Flights of fancy, in the end, but to strip her of her fiery, protective nature would be not to recognize her at all. She had been ready to beat Amelia Birchwood's face in when she realized she had something to do with Byron's kidnapping over Halloween.

Lilith's own recollection of old Greek myths has her smiling, however faintly - and tightly. "Three. There were three in the fight, plus the overseer that Byron barbecued from the inside out," she tells her. "I'm not sure which one's left - there was Alekto, Megaera and Tisiphone and in the stories, they punished different classes of wrongdoers. Tisiphone, for instance, punished murderers. Not sure if the same classifications actually apply to life the way we live it in Gray Harbor, I'm certain the reality of it is much different from what we know in the stories. The Veil's full of weird things, so I'm not discounting the idea that things that came from the other side inspired history's stranger occurrences. Also inevitably means that it's probably more difficult for us to survive what's coming, but hey, I'm up for a challenge if you are."

When asked about her Thanksgiving, she laughs. "It went well. Alexander's parents really liked me though...I basically spent the first few minutes of it trying to assure them that I'm actually a real woman and not someone he made up. Now that they know I'm real, though, I keep wondering whether his mother will actually lock me in the family basement to make sure I don't go anywhere. They...they're not like us, so there's some disconnect with what we understand of Alexander vis a vis their understanding of him. It was frustrating, at points, to listen to, but they genuinely love and care about him."

Interested eyes lift to meet Lilith's near-violet ones. "You? How was your dinner with Byron and Mary?"

"Eh. I didn't like or trust everyone I worked with or for, women included. Not to mention, men are men. You work closely with them, you rile them up on purpose, things happen sometimes. Didn't have complication often, though, no. Made me feel better and walk taller to have the gun and know how to use it, though, I think that counted as much as anything. If you put off the right vibe, usually, it's fine." That's totally kind of a non-answer from Lilith while still being a thoughtful answer because she has talent for those when she doesn't want to talk about something and isn't flat out lying to dismiss. Also it might be her diminishing some kind of extent of issue she picked up from the exposure of the job, it's really unclear, but the general air is that sometimes, shit happens, no matter how awful that shit is.

Anyway, her mind is largely on the present and current issues, especially once she notes the tightness of Isabella's smile as she confirms that yes, three is a thing, and there were... Lilith's head tilts a bit and she lifts a hand to take to playing with a loose strand of hair that's fallen out of her lazy twist of hair while pensively listening and considering. At the end of that bit, though, she abruptly smiles like she's ready to take on the devil himself because she doesn't have BRAINS in her head sometimes, maybe, when it comes to Byron or her own general self-preservation, "It took all my self-control not to throw a high heel at her head like lady-trash in a tantrum, and that bitch kissed my man. I don't care if it was just his hand, that's my hand and I get good use out of it, thanksverymuch." She pauses, then says more logically, "Anyway, it's not like they're going to leave us alone, so it's fine to plan for a good windmill slap fight or beheading, depending."

It won't be like that, of course, everything is uncertain except the one simple fact that none of it is over despite having that particular battle and moment through.

It is certain.

Lilith draws in a breath through her nose after feeling the tightness in her chest flash up like body response just THINKING about getting her due in on this Fury and for a moment, she wonders if she's a little bit Fury herself. Her eyes bat to attention, though, as Isabella answers on the subject of Thanksgiving, and she nods some with understanding, supposing, "I can see where that'd be difficult, but at the same time, it'd be kind of easy to pull the wool where needed, too. Of course, I bet Alexander is probably terrible at lying instead of just blurting out things like murder-chasing or whathaveyou, so I can see the cautionary worry angle if they're good people, yes. But you know, even if she does lock you in a basement, it's all about intent, isn't it? Point is, she'd like you enough to bother."

Dropping her hand from play at the strand of hair when it's her turn to answer, Lilith draws in a big breath and says with a lot of patience, "Mary Thorne knows how to lay conversational landmines to try and kill a mood. I was good, kind of struggled with doing some of the talking bits I should have done to occupy space politely, but I've never been great at that kind of talk anyway. Also she started dinner talking about how good it was that my father wasn't alone when he died at the bridge..." She clicks her tongue once, then tips her chin a bit, divulging with a hint of smile, "Really, I don't think the woman necessarily dislikes me like his father seemed to back in the day, but she... seemed agitated with our genuine happiness and affection for the day, I suppose, in that backhanded, barbed way of hers between pleasantry. Which I honestly wanted her to see, so it all works out."

After a tiny shake of her head and press of her lips, Lilith ends with a sentiment, then a question before draining the rest of her coffee, "Anyway, the status quo that Byron wants, that's what I'll try to keep up when it comes to Mary Thorne, regardless of how I feel. How he feels is more important, it's not my mother. And I know it must have taken a lot of self control for him not to up and punch tackle my father manymanymany times, so I also know what's due when it comes to tolerance." A pause, "So your email... do you want to explain how that information came to be and how it's going to go down in Isabella terms instead of email terms? I suppose we should focus on getting that managed before Furies or whateverthehell."

The visual of Lilith having a powered slap-fight with the source of the Erinyes myth pulls another brilliant smile from Isabella; the archaeologist leans back on her seat to regard her. "Better you than me, I think. I can't exactly blow someone's face up with my mind," she teases her, before seriousness falls back on her features. "She did say it's not a battle, but a puzzle," she tells her friend thoughtfully, and possibly the reason why she went back to the houseboat in an attempt to crack a piece just to see what she finds - and came up with this theory. "Doesn't mean we can't prepare for both, though." She winks at her at that.

The other woman's observation regarding Alexander is on point. "He has his reasons for being unwilling to engage in deception," she replies. "There was a time in his life when it was difficult for him to determine what's reality and what's not. Lies, masks, they all just remind him of how difficult and dangerous it is to not know which is which in a place like Gray Harbor, so he doesn't engage in it, and he hates it when others do it." She takes another drink of her coffee, and there's worry that flashes over her eyes. "Anyone who's grown up here's been through plenty," she murmurs softly. "So it wasn't a surprise to hear all of that. But I like that about him, though. That he rarely, if ever lies."

She listens quietly to Lilith's own illustration of Thanksgiving with the Thornes, and there's a quiet nod. Not that she knows what to expect, really - she doesn't really know Mary and at this point, her friend knows the woman better than she does. Still, there's a faint ripple of distaste on her features at Lilith's description of the woman's social underhandedness. At the same time, it's evident now as to where Byron gets it from. Her demonstration of defiance quirks her grin back up, however. "You and Byron fought up a mountain to end up where you are," she tells her. "If she doesn't like it, she's just going to have to deal. Pretty sure you've always been endgame with him, Lil. Even when we were kids. Just don't forget me when the wedding invitations get sent."

Regarding the e-mail, she rolls her shoulders back. "I had August ask around for me, his contacts with the fish and wildlife guys, see if they heard anything weird going on in the pond and surrounding areas. We got a bite, some guy somehow fell through the boundary and into Gray Pond on the other side and caught a violet glow in some underwater caves. So I consulted with a local expert in the history of the town, made sure that there were no actual caves in Gray Pond on this side, then I checked it out on the other side to find an alternate route to the caves there, because I was not about to suggest the gang go cave diving in the Veil." She flashes Lilith a look. "It's dangerous normally, in mundane waters, I'm not even going to chance it in that cursed place, especially when you have to go through living corpses and two kinds of dangerous marine life - and that's just what I know of. Anyway, long story short, we found one - but it's a labyrinth, underneath the other side's version of Elm Street. And there's a perfumed miasma in the air that addles you, so the group needs to have gas masks or something to keep a clear head down there. Possibly twine to find our way back out, in case someone can't open a Door. There are definitely traps down there, though, so we're going to need to be quick, and we need to be sharp."

She stifles another quiet groan. "I didn't hear it myself through the fog, but August swore that he heard chanting - cultists, probably, who worship the Ring, so we might be looking at a fight also. Fun for the whole family."

"Oh. Okay." Lilith stares at Isabella through all of that, tries to drink her coffee, finds it empty, then rises up to pace and find the trash can in the place, "No wonder Elm Street floods so badly. It's connected to water cult hell somewhere." After pacing around and finally finding the place to throw her cup, she turns to put her hands on her hips and look at Isabella, suddenly, "Also if by some fluke Byron decides one day I'm the marrying and keeping sort now that he actually has a good hold on me, well, you and Erin better plan on being the planners. We're already married anyway, we did it like two or three times when we were little, but I think that was mostly me pressganging him, so it probably doesn't count."

Her lips twitch, then she remembers what she was going to say with the hands on the hips gesture and first breath, getting onto a new Byron subject to compare suddenly with suspicion, "Wait. Was it the same kind of perfume that Byron got swarmed with after you two took a trip to City Hall, or was that bullshit? Or was it not bullshit, and the perfume in the air is more like... super charged poppies with consequences? Not that it matters for how we deal with it either way, but now I'm curious why the hell he smelled like perfume so strongly because we weren't in a place for very good details, at the time."

Oh. Okay.

Isabella can't help it. Sudden laughter spills from her, free and unshackled, tilting further into the granite countertop and tilting her head back. Because everything she had said had come out so factually, so naturally, that to an outsider, it probably sounds absolutely batshit. That had been her once upon a time, unwilling to get sucked into all this strangeness and now here she is, in the thick of it, because apparently this is the only way to keep her head, and the heads of the people she cares about, above the water. Suddenly, she finds herself in Alexander Clayton's shoes for the last twenty years.

She wipes her eyes with her fingers. "I'm so glad you know I'm not bullshitting you," she tells her breathlessly, gratefully, smiling over at her friend. "Christ, when did this become the new normal?"

At the last, she shakes her head. "Pretty sure what nailed Byron that time was Chanel No. 5," she tells Lilith, if nothing else demonstrating her terrifying facility for details no matter how exhausted or ill she is. "And what we smelled down in the labyrinth reminded me more of flowers. The entity we were visiting at the time really likes him, the Archivist." She pauses, as if reminded, and flashes Lilith a resigned expression. "It sent us a Tour Guide that looked like him, except made of wax and very, very idealized. He melted when he reached the labyrinth, it's oppressively hot down there. I haven't figured out how I'm going to explain that to Ronnie yet."

"Our lives are pretty much bullshit these days, so I'm into bullshitting anyway. And um. That's the thing that looks like a blobfish, right?" Rude, Lilith, rude. But that's how it was described to her, okay! He even sent a picture of what it resembles in text when she asked what the other veil beings looked like! She watches Isabella with a creeping slant of smile on her own lips for the laughter, but once she's asked her own question about what otherworldly thing she needs to keep from literally stealing her man with some Veil Voodoo NOW...

Okay, it's Lilith's turn to laugh. Abruptly, she starts to crack up and waves her hand all around like 'hold up hold up hold up' in overblown fashion before starting to come lean against the counter with flopping sag against her elbows, rubbing helplessly at her forehead, "Okay. So. There's a veil thing that looks like a blob, it wears Chanel perfume like a classic, it might be gendered male, and it's so into Byron, it uses him as wax models for kicks to send you places? I mean, I guess as he's not posing for... how detailed was the fig-- oh no, stop my brain." She starts to laugh again and claims with a little wipe under one of her eyes, "I don't know if I should fight it or make fun of him, I'm just... you know that strange-stuff wall you hit when you're talking about all these things at once? Uh huh. I think we're there, both of us. So that said..."

"What are you getting the man who has everything for Christmas?"

"Yep. That's the one, the pink blob with the eyes that don't really blink and the too-huge mouth that speaks v e e e r y s l o o o o o w l y." Isabella drawls out the last words in the closest approximation she could muster of the Archivist's diction. Her succinct summary earns her a sunny grin. "That's pretty much what I'm saying," she tells her simply, and swallows the rest of that cookie, chasing it with coffee. "And the figure was very detailed. As in, we honestly thought it was Byron until we realized he wouldn't stop smiling and when he actually spoke, his mouth wouldn't move - just frozen in that smile. Dressed in a suit and everything. Alexander was horrified when I told him and asked me if we killed it. We, uh, didn't check whether he was anatomically correct, if that's what you mean, but hey, we're going back there anyway, we could ask him."

Ask the Tour Guide, in front of the real Byron Thorne, whether or not the Archivist built him a wax penis.

Christmas does mean presents, and the archaeologist groans. "Honestly? That's my precise conundrum. I haven't even started thinking about presents and I know I should while the post-Turkey day sales are happening but I haven't given it much thought. I should, though. What about you? What are you getting him?"

Lilith will, in fact, ask the tour guide how comparative he is to the real thing and if there were any idealistic improvements made in the anatomy (penis) department, and she says as much without an ounce of shame, "I will. If this is some fantasy version, it might have extra abs and embellishment all over and I really want to know what's imagined in the mind of a... Veil creature when it comes to these things. We're calling it Veil Psychology and Physiology research, damnit, it's for science."

Pulling her head up from her hand with her laughter bout done, she rolls her eyes toward the ceiling and groans to herself and Isabella both before answering and straightening up into a stand proper, "I don't know for sure, it's hard, but I have a list of maybe ideas, if I can compare his current inventory of 'things and stuff' to what might be lacking or could use a pretty one-up. Definitely some neat antique Gatsby cufflinks, though, there's some very nice ones at the other pawns in the net exchange between businesses I'm part of. But you know... Nicole mentioned photography and if I can get in with her in time, maybe we can do some boudoir style posed shots and I can give him the prints as something only he has and sees. Photos just for him. I think he'll like that, simple as it seems, because..." Sex and EGO, but she phrases it differently, fondly even, "He likes to feel singular. And he is for me."

Coming around, she starts to latch onto a rocking back and forth hug on Isabella, "Maybe you should think of some for Alexander too, hmmm? I have to get back to the shop, though, let that guy have a break before going to start something for dinner for Byron, he's late on client calls tonight with the early morning foreigners, so if he's going to food coma, the little powernap needs to be before those calls. That and we might knock out a little bit of decorating. But this was nice and informative and screwed up and lovely, just the way it needs to be. Thanks for having me."