2020-03-13 - Falcon Hunt

Alexander doesn't really get many visitors. Especially in a group. His nervousness about this has manifested with a furious bout of cleaning of everything except the locked room, and then with the big question: could he possibly MAKE food that would be edible for people? Actual people? He decides to try, so by the time people start arriving, he's canvased the internet for some fairly simple recipes, and has been trying them out.

They mostly work; he's not putting Martha Stewart out of work anytime soon, but there are poblano peppers stuffed with a chorizo and cheese mixture and baked, as well as fresh-made coffee and the pre-made veggie tray he'd bought as backup in case the cooking attempt died horribly. Luigi senses that there will be humans other Alexander soon, so he's sulking in his cage, while Blue Bell is gearing up to look downright charming in hopes of getting some chorizo.

Alexander is wearing a heavy, dark brown sweater over dark jeans; clearly his hosting nervousness did not extend to trying to dress up in any way. His hair, starting to get long again, is a touch disheveled from where he's been running his fingers through it while thinking.

The door leading out into the very immaculate backyard, and sadly devoid of its shipwreck snow sculpture now due to the rain and sleet, closes in a telltale fashion, and when Isabella emerges from its threshold, she is without her outerwear and boots, unwilling to track slush into the residence in spite of the fact that she is very comfortable here. The dovetailing into the warmer months has left her pulling up her hair again, swept up in a loose knot and secured there by a pin, leaving tresses to frame her face, the ends curling into the wide neck of her sweater. She's dressed warmly, and while she will never look so effortlessly stylish as some of her other female friends (Lilith and Erin in particular), she is comfortable and at the moment, especially these days, that takes priority. The sweater is long enough to pull over the slender taper of her waist and the slim flare of her hips, clad in leggings and warm, fluffy socks. That ever-present moonstone pendant gleams under the light, followed by the musical clink of the delicate dandelion charms on her left wrist as she moves.

Clutched in her grip is a bucket of fresh snow.

"Something smells good," she declares when she enters the kitchen, enough warning for the man himself while she approaches. She leans in to press her lips against his cheek, still carrying the chill from the outside world and takes a cheeky, exaggerated sniff of the remains of coffee and clean detergent that lingers on his skin and clothes. "....and the peppers do, too." She will never say no to meat and cheese (especially the latter, as he very well knows) and there's an appreciative look at the casserole dish before wandering away to set the bucket on the counter and reach into the fridge so she can fish out some bottles of beer, to put them in actual ice.

That does remind her, though, while she's half-burying the bottles in the repurposed snow, and with a furrowed brow, she reaches out to pull open the freezer to take a quick look inside it. "....where's the carcass?" she wonders out loud, once she realizes it's no longer in it.

Alexander makes an exaggerated shiver when her cool lips press against his cheek, and he grins at her mischievous sniff, turning before she can quite slip away to return the kiss with one that tastes faintly of chorizo (look, it's the cook's priority to sample the ingredients). He doesn't hold onto her as she slips away, though. Although he does watch, and when she asks about the carcass, his eyebrows go up. "Oh." His voice is dry. "You mean the dead not-a-bird that you stuck in my freezer without so much as a note of warning about what it was, how it got there, or what you planned to do with it?" An amused snort. "I read it, trying to answer those questions. Got catapulted into a Dream where a horrible sad bird-monster thing wanted me to give away my name so that it could get its own back from a name-stealing pond. And then I got hit by lightning. It's fine."

He waggles the spatula at her. "But next time? Notes."

Chorizo kisses are just as tasty, and there's an appreciative look there too before Isabella wanders away. With bottles of beer packed into the ice all set, she carefully pushes it aside, mindful of the watchful stare and shooting him a look along the curve of her shoulder. "When I dug it up, you were still recovering from a concussion, I thought I'd hide it until you're better and then offer to have you read it, if you were curious." Not that there was any question of that - he was always curious. But her expression shifts to a duly chastened one and lips quirk upwards in a faint grin. "Except that so many other things happened since then that I completely forgot to tell you. In retrospect, if I really wanted to keep it safe, I would've stuck it in my fridge in the houseboat. Besides, you can't tell me tacking a post-it note on it that says 'Alexander, don't read this until you're better' wouldn't only make you want to read it right then and there!"

Still, details of the Dream are worrisome enough, and she wanders back over where he is, leaning against the counter next to him and frowning visibly. "Why would it want your name to get back its name?" she wonders. "As an offering? Does it need a quota of names before it could get its own back?" Word about his new lightning injury startles her though. "And what do you mean it's fine? It's lightning! That could stop your heart, on top of other things!"

The spatula-waggle gets the eye, before she sighs, lifting a hand to carefully rub the back of her neck. "I'm honestly surprised you didn't lightning it back," she tells him ruefully. "Especially when it tried to steal your name." A glance at the cuff on his wrist.

"My heart didn't stop," Alexander points out, with a sort of relentless pragmatism. "So, it's fine. And I think it's a property of the lake I saw - it will only give up a name if you put one in. The creature's name is in there, and the only way to get it out would be to have someone else give up theirs. But it's not just a name. It's never just a name. It's everything that you are." He frowns. "So I said no. But I do want to try and help it. I don't think it's evil. Just lost and sad and angry."

A shrug. "I would be angry too, under the circumstances."

Her frown is visible at the pledge to help the horrible, sad, angry and nameless bird monster. "It could've lost its name for a reason," Isabella points out, sliding her hands in the pockets of her leggings, a knee bending to press her heel against the base of the counter. "And you don't know what might happen if you help manage to get its name back. For all we know, it was truly monstrous until it lost it." She inclines her head at him, brows lifting towards her hairline before she smiles faintly. "I'll help if I can, I just wanted my misgivings placed on record. I mean, the last Veil monster you made contact with threatened what you loved, and sexually harassed you on top of it. With what we tend to find in Veil City Hall and what Magnolia's able to tell me of the thing that went after her father and his partner, I can't help but be somewhat skeptical."

August arrives with a knock at the door, a bag of muffins in one hand and a venti cappuccino in the other, both from Espresso Yourself. He's got the air of someone recovering from something about him, and maybe somewhat accordingly he's dressed in comfort clothes: dark gray commuter pants, a dark red, slub tee, black hoodie, and his snow jacket over that, with heavy hiking boots his only nod to the weather situation. Still, he's here, as he said he would be. Itzhak appears to have made his car somewhat functional, at least enough for getting around.

"I said I'd help," Alexander says, with a shrug. "I won't help it take anyone else's name...but having these crows go around and harass people with the names of the lost? That's not really sustainable, either." He smiles a bit at the mention of the 'last Veil monster'. "This one hasn't actually hurt anyone. Yet. That I know of." That's a lot of qualifications.

But he's saved by the knock at the door, and moves in that direction to check, and open it, waving August inside. "Hey. August. It's good to see you. You look," a frown, "ill?"

With guests arriving, Isabella is moving to set the hot casserole dish on the coffee table, though she's careful to put the worn potholders underneath the hot pyrex so as not to damage its surface. By the time August is waved on in, he'd be able to see her lugging the ice bucket of beer towards that area. "Hey, August," she calls out. While the two men talk, she seems to be content with fussing around that area - Alexander had cooked, and maybe it's the guilt propelling her to do something productive, considering her lack of culinary prowess. The smell of baked peppers stuffed with meat and cheese fills the room.

She returns into the kitchen so she can also set out the veggie tray, as well as some plates and utensils.

The last remark has her slowly leaning out to peer at the first guest though, brows lifting upwards. It's the way Gray Harbor's balance operates, it seems - now that things are slowly going back to its usual in Alexander's life, someone else's takes a turn.

August shrugs at the guess. "It's been a hard couple of days." He says it in a way which suggests his condition isn't the sort you handle by taking cold meds and lying in bed, bobs his eyebrows, lets his cryptic expression give way to a smile. "It's good to see you too." He offers the bag. "Muffins," he says, somewhat unnecessarily, and comes in. He's moving stiff and careful, like he expects to run into something if he doesn't keep a weather eye out. "Well something in here smells good." He peers towards the kitchen to see what that might be, smiles when he sees Isabella despite the look. "Hey. How's things."

"Muffins." Alexander stares at the muffins for a moment before realizing, oh yes, those are to be taken. So he does, closing the door behind August and points towards the couch. "I don't really have a lot of seating. But you're moving like you need the couch. So sit." He slides by Isabella to start putting the muffins on a plate next to the peppers dish. "I stuffed some peppers. Want some? Also have fresh coffee, water, and some soda. And veggies." The veggies are really clearly an afterthought, but they do remind him to go over and slide his arms around Isabella briefly, kissing the back of her neck before letting her go. Then peeking out to study August again. "What happened? And are you getting married?"

August would be able to easily identify the intent behind the foodstuff configuration on the coffee table because he does it himself - it is self-serve at Alexander's house today. But considering how tired and achy the first guest looks, the newly-minted Doctor Reede, ever the conscientious assistant hostess, is already reaching for a plate to fill it with food for August - unless he doesn't want some.

After her fussing with the veggie tray, talk of the muffins has her peering into the bag curiously when Alexander brings it over. "The peppers look really good," Isabella says in an encouraging fashion, though the expressive line of her mouth broadens into a smile when she's ambushed from behind, her hand coming up to cup his cheek and turning her face to press her lips against the corner of the investigator's own once or twice, murmuring something playful under her breath that only he can hear before turning her attention to the Combat Botanist again once she's released.

"What did happen?" Because of course she would back Alexander up, though mischief is in her stare when it angles towards her lover at his inquiry about August's engagement. "There's a story to that." She's not about to spill the beans when the news is the other man's to share. Her hand comes up to fondly tousle the growing curls on his head, though - he definitely needs another haircut, before sliding away so she can arrange things on a plate to feed August with.

August isn't about to deny he could really use the couch, and sits on it with a wince and a sigh. "I'm good for a drink for the moment," he says, lifting his coffee cup, "but maybe some water in a bit." He lays his head all the way back, laughs at the two questions: 'what happened' and 'married?'. He starts on the one he likes more. "Yes, we are getting married. Eventually." He straightens up, turns to sit sideways so he can face Isabella and Alexander. "Something, ah, happened, at Hyacinth's birthday party. A bunch of women wound up proposing to men in various forms." His mouth twists in a wry smile. "I guess we're just lucky she proposed to me and not the piano player." A sip of coffee, then, "And we talked about it the next morning, figured...well, I was thinking about it anyways. We'll just do the whole asking thing again once we've got a ring and my book's done. And in the mean time, take our time planning."

He looks down at the cup, fingering it. "Ah, as to what happened. Ciprian, you know how he got all banged up when we dealt with the trees." A glance at Isabella, back down to the coffee cup. "I healed him up. Wasn't planning on it, but Beth asked me to. Because he's got a little girl, she's eight. And she's like me. So there was a good chance she'd try to do it herself, and," he shakes his head, "it's not that Ciprian hasn't been telling her to not use it. It's just that there's telling your kid to not heal people, then them seeing their dad come home beat to shit. So." He runs a hand through his hair. "They showed up to thank me in that special way only They can."

Alexander's eyebrows go up, even as he returns the kisses. He stops fussing around with things and folds himself into an easy half-lotus on the floor, listening with a moment of amusement. "I'm sure that with you around, the piano player was never even an option. Even if he was demonstrably very good with his fingers. Congratulations, eventually, either way." The rest is more solemn, and Alexander's easily readable features show a touch of exasperation at August's plight, but no condemnation. "Better you than a kid," he murmurs, with a nod of his head. "It's hard, when you're a kid. Anything that needs particular attention? I've got a pretty decent first aid kit."

He's getting a pepper whether he likes it or not. So after arranging a few pieces of other vegetables in the plate for color, as well as keeping a baked pepper on there stuffed with cheese and chorizo, Isabella hands August the plate and a fork and napkin. While the two men converse, she procures a drink for herself - just a glass of diet soda on ice, not touching any of the alcoholic drinks just yet considering the binge she put herself through post-doctoral defense. Her body has yet to recover.

"We're invited, right?" she asks August with a shameless grin. "Eventually?"

She seems to have decided that she is done fussing now as well, folding her slender figure on the other end of the couch, and next to where Alexander has decided to perch himself on the floor. Her hand absently reaches out to play with his hair and test the length of his growing midnight locks, smiling faintly as she observes them curling on the ends like they tend to whenever they reach past a certain length. "Oh, August....you did what you had to do, but you really need to learn how to share the load now and then. Both of you." A glance down at Alexander's head to make the words all the more emphatic. "From what I learned overseas, They will not hesitate to come even when you're tired and weakened." And no matter how far you try to run, but these words are more on her features than her tongue. There's a faint grimace, before taking a sip of her drink.

August grunts at Alexander and Isabella both. "Yeah," he agrees. "I just didn't really want to...ask anyone to do much more than they already had. I'm sure Aidan and Finch had a brutal damned couple of days after that. But I couldn't let it be a kid. I got lucky, I couldn't heal much when I was younger, or I'd have been getting chewed on too. Least I can do is keep help him keep her out of trouble, until she can learn to control it and herself better." He pauses a moment to flick a 'yes I know that's hilarious coming from me' glance at Alexander.

He accepts the plate with a murmur of thanks. He might be hurting, but his appetite isn't on the injury list. "Just sore, mostly. Smaller cuts, I took care of the worst of it at home. But thanks." And he burned his sheets, but that's not really worth discussing. "This is amazing," he assures the both of them, and continues to dig in.

Pointing a fork at Isabella, he says, "Naturally you're invited. It'll be small--just immediate family and friends. We'll do some sort of larger reception. I just don't want us to stress the ceremony itself. Big huge affairs," he makes a face in between bites, shakes his head, "waste of money. Something intimate and memorable's all we really want."

Alexander leans into Isabella's touch, half-closing his eyes. But when August says 'this is amazing', his eyes come back open for a moment, and he grins with pleasure - a bright and uncomplicated expression that fills his whole face and makes him look ten years younger. It's gone in the next moment, as if he's afraid people might see it, and his response is a sheepish, "There was a recipe on the internet, and it seemed simple enough. I set an alarm so that I didn't leave them in too long."

Another smile, more restrained, at the confirmation that they're invited to the eventual wedding. "That makes sense. And it's Gray Harbor. If you try to do something elaborate, a T-Rex will probably eat the priest." This stated with perfect seriousness as he leans forward to snag a veggie stick and gnaw on it.

"Juniper's always eager to help," Isabella reminds quietly. "And I know she can heal - she did it to me after I set Patrick Addington on fire." A pause. "Accidentally. And yes, definitely not an eight year old girl. She doesn't need to start attracting Their attention that early." She isn't just thinking about Alexander as she says this, but from what she knows of August's history also.

The compliment about the pepper gains Alexander a playful nudge and a smile. "I can't wait to eat one," she says simply, though she doesn't yet - guests get fed first in her house, and breaking the protocol might earn her a visit from her terrifying Aunt Mary. The lean from Alexander has her rolling gently circles through his hair, hunching over him from her higher perch just a little so she could press a light kiss on the top of his head.

The guaranteed invitation has her grinning broadly, though. "Honestly I was half-expecting the two of you would just elope to someplace sunny and warm and full of green and fresh air, someplace idyllic," she observes. "But then I remembered your sisters and parents and they probably won't forgive you if you got married without them witnessing the happy occasion. Anyway, I can't help but feel heartened that this Winter wasn't an entire wash, just completely devoid of any modicum of happiness." She sniffs and glowers at the darkest place she can find in the house. "So take that," the last a quiet mutter. If she's worried about provoking Them to answer that specific challenge, she doesn't seem all that concerned - as defiant as ever.

"Or a giant centipede," August says under his breath. He nods at the suggestion of Juniper. "And Bennie," he adds, "who's an actual EMT, so she doesn't even have to heal everything that way." He eats with a healthy appetite, working through the food quickly. "Our families would for sure not forgive us. And neither of us reaslly like the whole beach paradise that much." His expression turns thoughtful. "I guess I wouldn't mind a trip to Hawaii, to look at all the plants?" And see Eleanor wearing a bikini nonstop. "But that'd be the real reason to go."

He grins at Alexander. "See? You're learning. We'll have you cooking for dozens in no time." The grin fades some at Isabella's implied challenge, though not entirely. "Well I'm glad I could do that much." Speaking of which...

He pauses in finishing off the contents of his plate. "So. We...got de la Vega back. But I have to tell you, it was ugly, what that guys was doing to him. It might be a while before he's really social." A warning, maybe, that he might or might not show up. "I mean, as much as he ever is."

Alexander gives Isabella a sidelong look at her challenge to Them, but he doesn't call her out on it. Just studies her for a long, worried moment, before reaching for a pepper. He turns back to August, and nods. "He texted me. Afterwards. To see if he had anything to apologize for." He sighs. "We have to do something. He's dangerous, and a strong reader, but I think his greatest asset is that he's...a step ahead of us. As long as we have to chase him, he'll be able to pick people off at the edges. We need to lure him to somewhere where we have the tactical advantage." A pause. "Before he left, I'm not sure if I told you, but Mr. Carver did some research for us, and suggested that Peregrine, or maybe people like him, might have been the inspiration for Dr. Faustus."

He nibbles on the tip of the pepper. "He has a watch with a void face. If we want to rattle him, I think getting that, or destroying it, might do it. He checks it a lot, when he's talking. It might fight back, though. And he probably will. It's why I was hoping that Javier might make it - none of the rest of us have any sort of squad level tactical skill, and it's," his voice shades dry, "painfully clear we're not much of a match for him one-on-one."

There's a faint smile directed at Alexander when he gives her that long, but worried look - demonstrating any sort of fear has never been her strongest modest operandi, though she is quick to say that she is in no way fearless. But now that people are reaching for the peppers, she shifts sideways so she can plate herself one, along with a few vegetables. While her appetite is back and as hearty as ever, her recent weight loss is one that she is attempting to maintain, so her portion is modest today (not to mention the other guests have yet to arrive). Picking at the pepper with a fork, she listens quietly to both, contemplation on her features.

"So I never got the full story as to how Javier was put back to rights," she says, looking over at August. "What happened there?" A faintly guilty look ripples over her, though and she frowns down at her plate. "I haven't talked to him since I got back."

There's also a surprised glance at Alexander regarding Carver's own research. "People like him?" she prompts. "He's part of a group? Does that mean there's more of him out there?"

The prospect of fighting the man one-on-one has her making a face. "I'm not a proponent of fighting fair," she tells them simply, finally taking a bite of the pepper and making a pleasured noise when she tastes the warm chorizo and cheese blend, with the sweetness of the roasted vegetable. "So if we can figure out a way to group ambush him, that would turn the tables relatively quickly." She furrows her brows. "Alexander mentioned he has a tendency to encourage hope, just so he could take it away, yes? What's the next big celebratory event? He's covered weddings, transplants, turned a captain of the local law enforcement body against the citizens he ought to be protecting..."

A pause. "Easter, maybe? Gray Harbor's predominantly Catholic. And there's a new priest in town."

August makes a low, contemplative sound. "Well, notice he hasn't come near me, or you, or Eleanor," he says to Isabella. "Not without nulling your house boat. So, he might not be as strong as us in those areas, and wants to avoid putting a throw down to the test. And the three of us could possibly resist any attempts of his to control us. We're all reasonably strong in those areas too." He makes a face. "That or he's just being coy, which is also a notable possibility." The watch and legend interest him. "Faust with a black faced watch," he says, voice low. "Think Marlowe's Faust had, what, a time limit on his deal, right? Maybe our asshole's deal is up soon."

He finishes off his coffee, considers the cup. "He came after me, and he and Itzhak and I wound up in a Dream. It was kind of...a construct of what he was going through. But he was fighting the bastard the whole time, which was killing him." He rubs at his temples. "Not sure I remember it really well accept there was a lot about deciding to accept his life and the things he'd done, or turn to a better, more perfect version." A lift of one shoulder to suggest they can see what he opted for.

He sets the cup aside. "Easter's not for a month. Gives us time, but do we want to give him time?" The skepticism in August's voice says 'no'.

Alexander bristles, visibly. "He did. Come near Isabella. He turned her into a fucking battery and trapped her so deep in her own mind it took three of us to get her the hell out." His voice is thick with rage - not specifically directed at August, and he strangles it down fairly quickly, reaching up to rub at his face. "I wouldn't count on anyone being able to take him one-on-one. Not just because he's powerful, but because...I get the feeling he's experienced in pulling shit like this, and we still don't know what kind of bargain he made, if it's not just worship for worship's sake."

He glances at Isabella. "I don't know if it's a group, but it seems unlikely that he's the same guy from Marlowe's time. I'm not ruling it out, but I'm reluctant to jump immediately to immortality, as well. Besides," he frowns, "he said he had someone who still cared about him. Which suggests a mortal or close to mortal lifespan and a point at which he wasn't...what he is. So, maybe there's a chain of mentor-to-recruit? I didn't see any signs of a true cult or organization, in his greenhouse." He falls silent for a moment. "Easter is associated with lilies, too. It might amuse him, and it's very strongly associated with hope: resurrection, forgiveness, grace."

He smiles, just a little, at the talk of Ruiz and the dream. "He would. He would fight until he was dead. And he wouldn't trust an easy answer, or a perfect life." He sounds approving.

"Marlowe's Faust did have a time limit on his agreement with Mephistopheles," Isabella replies, nodding approvingly in August's direction, if not just because he has provided an additional note of significance regarding the watch that Alexander had homed in on immediately, already looking impressed with both of the men in her company. "In the play, at least, Dr. Faustus was originally given twenty-four years to live after which he turned his body and soul over to the Devil. Not to say that's the kind of deal we might be looking at, but something similar. I think Alexander might be right, then, about the watch." There is, however, an apprehensive expression that falls on her face after that. "If it is some sort of important artifact, I also think Alexander's right in the fact that he will probably defend it from any attempts to relieve it from his person, not to mention....it's a thing that doesn't belong, if you're right about it." Green-and-gold eyes find Alexander's profile. "Not here, anyway. If part of the plan is to take the thing from him, we're going to have to be prepared to store it someplace. A room or something that could hold an item like that."

Her frown becomes more prominent when August details Javier's struggles. "Of course he didn't," she murmurs. "None of you would and when it comes to your histories, your attitudes regarding them aren't all that dissimilar." There's pride there, and a hint of wistfulness - unlike those in her company, she isn't sure whether she wouldn't elect to change anything from her past, for one glaring reason.

Alexander's bristling startles her a little; not that it is surprising that he would react that way, but the rage coloring his tone is as black and heated as the Earth's molten core - it leaves her heart racing, equal parts exhilaration and worry. Her hand reaches out in an attempt to soothe, stroking his dark curls. "I wish we knew more about his past, if it's true that he has a mentor somewhere, or a protege somewhere...or just about him in general." She pauses. "He said something to me before everything went dark but I can't...the scent of the flowers was so heady I haven't been able to remember despite trying."

She didn't even know that about Easter and its correlation with lilies. Pride practically renders her aglow when she looks at the investigator. "I didn't know that," she confesses. "And yeah, what August says. It gives us time to prepare, but that leaves him time to prepare also." She falls quiet. "He's also been in my mind, he's had Alexander on his chair....god only knows what he did to Javier and presumably, he's watching you in some way, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to trap those lilies you read. If he's like a psychologist like Alexander seems to believe, he might've profiled us already. He knows we're not stupid so...if Easter is his next big play, and it's a month away, what would he do in the interim when he's fully aware that people determined to stop him are on his tail?"

"I meant since then," August says, carefully. He glances at Isabella, seeming hesitant to bring something up for a half-second. Then, "Your power's changed a lot. So has mine, and Eleanor's. I don't know that a confrontation with him will turn out entirely in his favor. I don't mean take him one on one, but we don't need to take him one on one, just injure him badly enough and trap him long enough to be able to call in others. So I suspect he's being incredibly careful as a result. Otherwise, why null the house boat? Aside from," another off-handed gesture, "being coy, there's no reason to expend that kind of power. Unless he actually wanted to ensure he'd be safe, and was also enjoying the reaction." He shrugs. "Part of experience is knowing to be careful, even if you don't have to be."

He nods at the comment about the lilies. "That's how I know when it is. I make sure to have a big order ready. Peace lilies especially, but people go for all kinds--Asiatic, tiger, Calla, you name it, they want it. Even the dark purple and black ones." Well, around here, maybe especially those.

"Fuck with us, I assume," he says on a sigh. "I'm sure he's watching. Same with Erin, Byron, and Eleanor." He doesn't think about how Peregrine is watching Eleanor. That's not a thing he's dwelling on; no need to break Alexander's house. Which he knows he can do, the slab and the load bearing walls all just need a few nudges here and there...

Nope. Not thinking about that. He eats some food instead. "I think the only thing we can do there is just be careful. Keep tabs on one another. Keep an eye out."

Bang, bang, bang on the door, like someone took the side of their fist to it, police style. A glance out the window confirms that it's the captain's vaguely irritated looking self huddled out there. Battered jacket over a tee shirt and dark cargo pants and scuffed boots. He's got the brim of his ball cap in one hand, knuckles scruffing through his close-cropped hair, and a tupperware container of something homemade under his other arm. How the fuck does Javier even own tupperware? It's a mystery for the ages.

Not bringing up a horribly traumatic event for your lover? Is not a thing Alexander is well versed in not doing; his tact has not improved noticeably, even with better social networks. He says, "He said it was so she could sleep without Them for a night. It might even be true; although I'm sure it was also an attempt to intimidate and menace. I imagine he has a lot of justifications for what he does, and that he contains multitudes within himself." Despite the rage of a moment before, there's a fascination in Alexander's voice, now. None of his criteria for being an interesting person include being a good person.

He might have said more, but the banging on the door makes him jump to his feet, even as he recognizes the three knock style, he falls briefly into a defensive stance. Then just as quickly out of it as he moves to the door, checking before letting Ruiz in. "Hi." He grins happily at the captain, before waving him inside. "It's good to see you. Come in. Sit down. Talk about horrible things. Coffee? Tequila?"

It's less about what she has experienced, and more caused by how angry Alexander is - she's not accustomed to seeing him deeply furious. "I don't know whether power is as much of a concern for him as our motivations are," Isabella muses contemplatively. "What makes us interesting people. Honestly, I think we ought to be ready for the idea that the reason why he's so effective is because we're genuinely interesting to him." There's a glance at Alexander, her jaw tightening in memory. "Otherwise he would have just killed Alexander with his snakes when he had him." She finishes her plate of pepper before setting it aside, and resettles into the couch with her drink. The banging on the door catches her interest right away, though, given its insistence, and she watches Alexander get the door. "Maybe we should take advantage of that....somehow."

There's a visible frown, though, when Alexander reveals that all the man wanted was to help her spend an evening Dream-free. "That's still a strange reason to confess to anyone," she says. "Why would he care if I spent a few hours unmolested by Shadows, if he meant it? If his aim is to help feed Them in some way, wouldn't he let Them have me, if They wanted me?"

Her body betrays no visible tension when Javier arrives with familiar tupperware, despite the last time she had seen him. "Javier," she greets quietly. "I'm glad you're better."

"I'm sure he had all kinds of reasons, random and real," August mutters, totally in sync with Alexander on that point. "Not that I really give a fuck what they are." He eyes Isabella a moment, and might be about to comment on the 'he's interested in us' angle, until she gets to the idea of using that against him. He narrows his eyes.

His tone bland, he says, "Oh, like letting one of us be bait?" I see you, Dr. Reede, archaeologist, that look says. "Not happening."

He glances towards the door at the knock, manages a small smile for Ruiz. "Hey," he says, giving him an up-nod. August looks in need of a few days of solid rest, so of course, he's here, not getting it. So it goes.

In prowls de la Vega, looking a little less prickly than usual, but a good deal more worn out. Roen gets a contemplative look and a nod, and Alexander's gifted with a tupperware container of what appears to be homemade churros shoved at him. "Hola," he murmurs. "Sorry I'm late." There's a sidelong look for Isabella, dark eyes hooded and subtly conflicted as he watches her. He does, however, attempt a faint smile.

Alexander shrugs towards Isabella as he closes the door behind Ruiz and has churros thrust at him. He's been sitting on the floor, leaving the final section of the couch for the new guest. "Just because he worships or follows Them doesn't necessarily mean he follows all of Them." He frowns. "If he just wanted death or misery, he can do that on a grand scale without jumping through all of the hoops. I could make someone open fire on strangers at City Hall without much trouble. Or at a school. Or a church. And I suspect he's more practiced than I am and has pushed his abilities further. He might not have any interest in furthering death or misery in general, but rather his specific, desired form of it. The death of hope." He considers Isabella for a long moment, then nods, despite August's I see you look. "He finds Isabella especially interesting. I'm somewhat surprised he hasn't tried to accost her again."

But it IS why she's staying at his house, and not anywhere else. The tupperware container is opened as soon as Alexander stops talking, and he smiles at what's inside. "This is wonderful. Thank you!" A shake of his head to dismiss the claim of lateness. "People are just coming when they can. Sit." His eyes flick back and forth from Ruiz and Isabella, but he doesn't otherwise show any concern about having the two of them in the same place at the same time. He moves to put the churros beside the stuffed peppers and the muffins, and immediately takes one before he folds himself back down at Isabella's feet. He bites into it with enthusiasm.

Her expression sobers at the conflicted look on the police captain's face, but there's no hostility in it. There is, however, a faint stirring of guilt when her eyes immediately go to his leg, where she shot him. Not like it did much good - the man's built like a brick.

There's a sheepish smile directed August's way, though at Alexander's considering look, Isabella exhales a breath. "Like I said, he'd probably be easier to predict and anticipate if we knew more about him...if all of what Alexander supposes is true. That he's human and mortal with very specific inclinations, no matter how practiced or....enhanced. As we've all started to learn, the Veil's a more unpredictable place than we thought with how it affects objects and living things."

There is a smile at the churros though, and she reaches out in an attempt to playfully steal a piece of Alexander's after he has bitten into it; she isn't a fan of sweets but she hardly ever says no to anything homemade.

"Now that Javier is here, though..." She looks up at him. "So far you're the one who has interacted with him and was affected by him the most. Did he manage to reveal anything about himself in your conversations with him? Peregrine, I mean."

August pauses in clearing the rest of his plate to say, "It'd be worth finding out what he thinks is interesting. But not at the expense of you meeting with him alone." He shrugs. "It's not really negotiable, and he's not as smart as he'd like to think he is, if he thinks we're going to agree to that." Tone turning a little dry, he continues, "Of course, you might take that decision out of our hands," addressing Isabella directly, "but we can't do anything about that if you opt to do it. You can put me down, permanently, as never being on board with that. He can feel free to meet me in the pit if he doesn't like my opinion."

He falls quiet, waiting to see what Ruiz has to add in response to de la Vega's question. He cuts him a brief look, then focuses on his food again.

"It would be nice to know more about him," Alexander agrees, smiling briefly when she reaches out for the churro. He doesn't fight the attempt at theft, letting her sneak a piece of the churro, but then taking a quick bite of what's left. "If something's changed about him, over there, maybe it's his eyes? I've never seen him take off the glasses, and they're strange. He wears them even at night." A grimace. "If the eyes are windows to the soul, he keeps his carefully guarded and mirrored in darkness."

He eats the rest of his churro. "These are very good." A glance to Ruiz, but he seems content to give him a chance to gather his thoughts. Instead, he says to August, "He likes a very specific kind of lily. I was thinking that a display of them, somewhere public, and ostensibly 'safe' might lure him out, if only out of curiosity."

She manages to take a small piece off, victory! Isabella sneaks a quick kiss on Alexander's cheek before popping it in her mouth, and takes a while to chew it before addressing August's remarks first. "I'm definitely not trying to get in the man's radar," she tells him. "I'm living with Alexander for a reason." She had returned to her houseboat temporarily during their trouble after Valentine's Day, but even then, Alexander wasn't all that far behind when he spent a good portion of their separation stalking the docks. "I can be as reckless as anyone in this group, but...I'm also very aware of what the man can do. I agree with Alexander that going toe-to-toe with him one-on-one isn't exactly the best method to go about it. Though luring him out might." She nods to the investigator. "I mean, it's not as if we don't know what he likes." The last remark is a touch dry.

With more people coming in, though, she decides to relinquish her place on the couch, sliding down to the floor to sit next to Alexander instead to give the larger man some room without having to invade August's personal space. "Have some dinner, Javier, Alexander made the stuffed peppers," she encourages. "It's pretty good." She nudges Alexander's shoulder just a little with her own, flashing a quick smile in his direction.

August tips his head at Isabella, pulls a face. "You two seem pretty convinced I think someone should go at him one on one, when I said the exact opposite when Alexander tried it. Let me be clear: I didn't, and am not, suggesting it. I'm saying, we don't have to assume his behaviors are sneaky or tactical. He might just be careful, because no matter how powerful he is, so are we."

He bites his lip about the flowers. "Thing is, those were special ones, grown in the Veil. I don't know how he even managed that, since my attempt to grow anything in the Veil saw it die, and infect a forest." Does he sound grumpy about that? Oh, a tad. "So I'm nowhere near replicating it." His eyebrows go up. "I can get the closest species we have here in real, if you think that'd interest him."

Byron's been busy with a lot of things as of late. Even before he arrives at Alexander's place, he's been catering to one of his fellow business associates, taking the guy out to an early dinner in the hopes of finalizing some deal or other. So when he shows up, guess who already ate. He's also dressed in full business attire. The whole three piece suit with a gray peacoat thrown over the ensemble. Counting the vehicles already parked outside, he can make a solid guess that everyone else had already arrived.

He has a lot of things on his mind, which is what makes him remain seated within his car even after he'd parked, to simply stare out at the entrance to Clayton's abode. Eventually, the driver's door open. Anyone inside, if they'd miss the sound of his car pulling up, may now hear the sound of that same door shutting closed.

Often, he's bearing gifts, especially for meetings such a this. Though due to the rush, he's come mostly empty handed. Giving a firm knock at the door, he starts to remove his coat on entering, "Sorry, I'm late. Late business meeting." He goes on to explain. He can smell the aroma of something cooking wafting through the house, "Something smells good."

"I think he's a planner, a director," Alexander says, with a shrug. "I do think he's tactical, and he likes to act through people." A sidelong look towards Ruiz, before the knock happens, and he stands back up. His fingers rest gently on Isabella's shoulder for a moment, before he goes to the door, checks, and opens with a smile towards Byron. "Thorne. Hello. You're not late. Come in. Javier made churros. I made stuffed peppers. August brought muffins. Would you like some coffee?" He looks around at the living room, and frowns. Then he disappears into his office, and comes back with his rolling chair, which is placed near the sofa. "There. More chairs."

"I'm just saying that I'm definitely trying not to be reckless in this instance," the archaeologist says, lifting her hands towards August. "As for the flowers, maybe he's ventured out far enough into the Veil that he managed to find lilies that look like their real-world counterparts." Isabella's dark brows draw forward to reflect her soft frown. "There's a lot left uncharted with the Veil, still, we honestly don't know much about it - but we know enough that life does thrive there, no matter how twisted."

With Byron arriving though, the green-eyed archaeologist's expression brightens. "You look tired," she says, rising from the floor as well. "Want some coffee? Something stronger? I highly recommend the stuffed peppers if you haven't eaten yet."

The cop's moving with the slightest of limps, but he's either doing a damned good job of pretending he's fine, or someone's patched it up pretty well for him. Or, he really is built like a brick shithouse. He's pulled away for a few minutes when his phone goes off; and judging by the tone of the conversation, it sounds work related. "No," he's murmuring, back to the others. "No, I don't give a shit. Tell the DA we need a prosecution, including that exculpatory evidence we were promised three fucking weeks ago." A pause, an agitated sigh, and he mutters something in parting before hanging up.

"What?" A glance at Isabella belatedly. "Reveal anything, like what?" Of all the people here, August probably has the best sense of what he saw when he had that little chitchat with Peregrine. Mention of stuffed peppers has him shucking off his jacket across a chair, and meandering curiously toward the coffee table.

Byron's almost disappointed that he'd already eaten, when told of what's been prepared. "Some coffee would be nice, thanks. And I actually just came back from a dinner meeting. The best kind of meeting, but the worst kind of dinner. So I'll be satisfied just chugging away at a nice cuppa. Or something stronger as the night wears on."

Having overheard some bit of conversation, he just has to ask curiously, "So things in the Veil don't normally look like things in our world?" He's not sure that he caught that part of conversation correctly, but it's what piqued his attention at the time. About the drink, though, he pipes up, "I'll help myself." After hanging his coat up, he mills around in the kitchen, or wherever the coffee is kept, he works to pour himself a cup. Undoctored to start. "So has anyone heard anything from him as of late?" He's talking about Peregrine. He's been left in the dark regarding certain things.

August raises a hand to Byron in greeting, sets his now-empty plate on the table. He eyes Ruiz's limp for a half-second, just long enough for everyone to tell he's noticed it. He says and does nothing about that, though, just nods at Alexander and Isabella in turn. "Could be. If that's the case, the closest real-world species might at least pique his interest." He scratches his beard. "We could do a lily show, maybe. Like you said, for Easter. Wouldn't need to wait until then, since people usually do services and family stuff. But maybe one to two weeks before."

He says to Byron, "It varies. Most of what I've seen over there is like our ideas of things. So, the tree I grafted to? It was the closest idea to a Sitka spruce I found. But it wasn't exactly the same. They're all like that--off a little. Effected by...I guess us? The things we do and feel?" He shrugs helplessly.

He shifts so there's plenty of room for Ruiz to sit on the couch, props an elbow on the back and rests his head on his hand. "It thrives, but I wonder if it's not life like we know it. If we can survive over there, but a plant I bring can't, what does that mean." It's not a rhetorical question; he's very curious about the possibilities.

"He's definitely some kind of doctor or scientist. Probably a psychologist. That seemed obvious from," he flicks a glance at Ruiz, "what you saw. And when I read that one flower, I saw a hospital. So, that fits." Of Peregrine and his recent shenanigans, he remains quiet, just lets Ruiz speak to it.

"He has a greenhouse," Alexander says, quietly. "It's carpeted in them. The smell is so strong." He swallows. "I think that he might have had time to grow them. Maybe with his own feelings - like you said, we have effects. Maybe your grafts didn't need a tree like the one they came from, but they needed a strong and constant desire to shape them. Left alone, they soaked up whatever they were around, as if it were water and sunlight." He clears his throat. "I don't know. I only have a little gardening experience."

The peppers are simple poblanos, stuffed with a mixture of chorizo and cheese. Not exactly stretching the boundaries of culinary excellence, but they're fairly well cooked. "He sounded like a therapist. When we talked. Very similar style." A glance towards Byron, then towards Ruiz, letting the Captain have first chance to answer it as well.

"Psychiatrist seems most likely," Javier points out, right before shoving one of the poblanos in his mouth. He makes a noise of approval, with a glance shot Alexander's way that suggests he's pleasantly surprised. Not too long ago, after all, he was trying to teach the man how to make lasagna without burning down his kitchen. Once he's chewed and swallowed, and flopped himself down next to August, "He worked mostly with children. There was a child, in one of his memories.." If they're receptive, he tries to show Alexander, Isabella and Byron the little cinematic of Peregrine instructing a little blond boy in what appears to be commanding animals; August has already seen this.

Alexander's quiet swallow when he relives the memories of the greenhouse has Isabella reaching out with gentle fingers to squeeze his nearest hand, turning her face to press a soft kiss against his shoulder. "Are the rest of you still intending to find that greenhouse?" she wonders. "Through the location Alexander walked through before? I-- "

With three men in the room confirming that they believe Peregrine was some kind of shrink has her pausing for a moment. "And...children? We already knew he must've had some medical background to pull off what he did in the hospital, but-- "

And then he shows an image of the blond boy - the memory that plays out is done from the view of the viewer, Javier, facing the man behind the large desk instructing a small boy of no more than eight years old lying on the couch, but turned on his side, his back to the rest. His voice is also played in the cinematic - indeed, the instruction as to how to control animals. From Peregrine, who looks younger but his face still enshrouded - not by dark glasses but due to the glare of sunlight streaming from the windows, obscuring everything but the lower half of his face and the shape of his mouth as he smiles.....a sight that would be familiar to Alexander. Would be familiar to anyone in this room, who had been paying attention to the man dressed as Baron Samedi in the wedding.

But he would not be the only familiar image in the memory.

With coffee not in hand, Byron joins the others around the couch, though rather than taking a seat immediately, he decides to stand and give his legs and back a nice stretch. The first sip goes a long way. "So our thoughts are what forms the things within the Veil? Are we talking just the landscape or the creatures within?" Another sip is taken. "I'm just saying, did we come up with all that crazy?"

Having little to no real contact with Peregrine, himself, he'll just have to take what the others have said of the man, listening attentively enough. "If we're able to, I'd say why not." Byron speaks up in regards to the greenhouse, "We'll be on his turf though, but can we get to him any other way?" They probably could, but he has no ideas on that.

Byron's never the most receptive person when it comes to mental anything. In fact, his eyes narrow when he senses Ruiz' attempt, practically bracing himself while autolocking his own mind up tight. It's a reflexive reaction for him. When the image plays out, his body is tense as he observes this memory, never relaxing.

At first, being somewhat distracted in his own head with precautionary measures, Byron doesn't notice too much about the scene when it first starts playing. However, when he's able to focus his attention on the individuals, something about this child makes him do a double take. Barely remembering what Peregrine looks like aside from what others may have shown him of the man, it's the blonde boy who his dark eyes dwell on. Blinking once, then twice, they drift over to where Isabella has situated herself. "This is a vision of the past? Did you read this off of some object?" Now, it's Ruiz who has his attention.

August watches Alexander closely, eyes bright. "I think you're on to something there. Because the chalk did the same thing. It just went all over. Like it thought its purpose was to be on every tree." He looks at a spot on the floor. "So maybe, to get something to grow there, you have to put your energy into it another way. Feed it some other way." Glimmer seems obvious, but are there other ways? Something to think on. "I'll find the closest species I can to the ones he had at the wedding. Let me know when you want to try this out, and where."

He clears his throat. "For, ah, obvious reasons I wouldn't mind trying to find that greenhouse. Might be something there to learn."

He studies the image again--the boy, who's not facing them, then Peregrine. He glances to the others, to see what they make of it.

"We'd need self-contained breathing systems," Alexander says, promptly. "If it's still there, the scent of those flowers, concentrated, will knock you the fuck out. And then you end up covered in snakes. They are not nice snakes, they are angry snakes." That distinction needs to be made, and made firmly. "But I can take you there. At least to the house on this side. We'd need someone who can open a door - unless he does it for us."

Then there's that image; Alexander's mind is always receptive - almost hungry - for contact and information, so he doesn't hesitate at all to plunge into the image Ruiz shows them. His eyes close, drinking it in. He listens and watches, and the moment when he recognizes, or thinks he recognizes the child is easily seen; his eyes open, looking towards Isabella. Reaching out for her with one hand. And then there's the scrabble and the caw, and he jumps, and snarls towards the crow, a low and animal sound of protective fury.

Throughout the clip playing in the living room, Isabella hasn't moved. It's also likely that she's stopped breathing, her eyes glassy and somewhat faraway. White noise slowly, but surely, starts to cotton the back of her mind as color slowly drains from her expression. Fingers come up reflexively, without her being fully conscious of it, to seize the moonstone pendant hanging from the front of her sweater.

And suddenly, the thing that she didn't remember through the clotted, scented haze of all those lilies surges into her mind like javelin spearing through gray matter, prompted by the significant look angled to her from Byron and Alexander suddenly reaching for her. "He said...when he had me he said..."

The syllables escape her, raw and hoarse: "I know those eyes anywhere."

The moment she says that, though, she starts shaking her head vehemently. "But I think...I don't....I don't understand," she stammers as she tries to get up off the floor, doing her best to levy herself upright in spite of the water filling her knees. She doesn't want to, she doesn't, but she suddenly finds herself plunging through a rabbit hole of memories, searching for something, anything.... "We had doctors, but never a....we never..."

Did they? Or was it just...? "I don't understand."

Then the scraping at the sill and the shrill caw. It's almost too much to bear. Her hands suddenly come up in an effort to clap her hands tight on her ears in an attempt to drown out the sound.

Ruiz shoves his phone away again for the second time, and takes a minute to tune back into the conversation as he reaches for another stuffed pepper. A tick of dark eyes toward Isabella when she speaks, low and hoarse-voiced, I know those eyes anywhere. And he pauses with the pepper halfway to his mouth, just watching her curiously for a while. Then Alexander, brow raised, like he might be able to decode whatever the fuck's going on.

Byron wasn't as close to Isabella and Isidore at the time of this supposed memory. He'd known them for a while and had grown closer to them the older they all got, but he recognizes the boy even if they don't really see his face. Perhaps it's his mannerism, or his voice. Or just this vibe that he gets.

Seeing that Ruiz ignores his question entirely, he returns back to Isabella, making his way there to lend her a comforting touch at her shoulder. "Bella? You don't remember this guy at all? Do you think your father might? I mean, if he's a doctor." Though something tells him that this may have been a private case, but he's not sure.

The sudden shriek of what he'll assume is a crow, jolts his and drags his attention towards the window. There's been far too much of that going around lately. Those things were everywhere. However, unless the creature starts tapping away like crazy again, Byron will ignore it. Or try to. The calling out of names has really gotten to him by now.

Even as worry takes over, Alexander looks ridiculously pleased when Ruiz reaches for another pepper. I made that, and he LIKES it the look he shoots the others says, as transparent as a child's emotions. But then Isabella is starting to rise, and so he does as well, getting to his feet and helping her to hers - but mostly so that he can try to draw her into an embrace. "You should probably ask your father. You said that Isidore was always highly adept at using his powers from an early age. But...maybe he had help getting that way." A glance to Byron. "Did he ever mention anything about having a mentor or a teacher?"

A sigh. "I don't know. But it would explain his fascination with you," he tells Isabella. "And his disappointment that you'd 'never achieve' what you were capable of." He frowns. "It gives us a new avenue. And we can go back to the house; I'll take whoever. But. Breath masks. And," a glance to Byron, "what happens over here definitely affects over there. Maybe vice versa, as well. But I don't think we know enough to say exactly how. Except that we always seem to get the short end of the stick," he mutters.

But he keeps a close eye on Isabella, providing what comfort she'll accept from him.

"Gas masks," August says. "Should be able to get those at a supply store. And, I know I can manage animals now, so maybe a few of us can. Might be enough to steer the snakes." He looks thoughtful. "And maybe some Vick's, under our nostrils..." His voice dies when the crow caws.

His attention snaps to the window. "Don't touch it," he says. "When Lilith--don't touch it." He gets up, slowly, to move towards the window, but the second he does the hear another scratch and the flapping of wings. August is tense for a few seconds, relaxes. "It's gone," he says.

He hesitates, looks from Alexander (whose reaction makes perfect sense in a basic way), to Byron and Isabella. "Who is that?" He just asks it.

"My brother," is what she tells August quietly.

Miracles of miracles, she doesn't just go barreling out of the house to chase after the cawing creature, not this time. But her expression is tight and pale, and slowly, Isabella lowers her hands from her ears. She's trying to think, by the way her brows are furrowing, but it's difficult to push through the rising wall of longing and confusion.

It's Byron's query that gives her something to focus on. "I don't. Sid never mentioned...but we were young and...there were a lot of things we didn't understand, still. He was brilliant, a hundred times...more than me. But I..." She glances down on the floor. "...usually it was my mother who handled our medical appointments, but she's obviously....she can't answer those questions. So if there's anyone who would know, it would be my dad." She hesitates, before she nods again, more firmly. "Yeah. My dad." The last said softly.

There's no resistance when Alexander draws her into an embrace after he helps her up, her head leaning against his shoulder and falling silent.

Byron's question is answered quite belatedly, and in a low murmur from de la Vega as he half considers the crow outside the window. No, he isn't making any move to do anything about it. "I linked with his mind," he tells the younger man, glancing up at him briefly. Making eye contact, if he permits. Then his phone rings again, and he swears floridly, grabs another pepper, and prowls off to take the call.

"I have a couple of gas masks. Had to use them when searching for the Lovers' Jewel." Byron offers up to the group. Obviously, one of them will be his.

When August goes to check on the bird, the room remains tense. Or at least, Byron Thorne remains tense. While his hand may be trying to bring some comfort to Isabella, his eyes trail behind the botanist. There's this sense of relief that comes over Byron when they're given the all clear. He remembers what happened to Lilith when she destroyed the one harassing them at the hospital all too well.

"I don't..." He starts to think hard on Alexander's question. Did Isidore mention it to him? A boy's club thing. No, Isidore wouldn't keep secrets from Isabella and if she doesn't know... but wasn't this a secret? "I don't think so. It's been a while." Then to August, he answers, only now realizing that not everyone might know who the blonde child was. "That's Isidore. Isabella's missing twin. So if Peregrine was in his life... their lives this whole time..." A pause, before he murmurs lowly, "shit."

Hearing Isabella's confirmation on who might know about this mystery doctor, Byron simply nods. Though de la Vega speaks up and his own dark gaze flickers over to the man, giving him a slow nod as well. "This could be some sort of trickery. An illusion, something that Peregrine wants us to believe. But why?" Perhaps, this cements things in Byron's mind that the vision was an actual memory. Something that did happen. "And why one twin... when he could have both." This is said mostly to himself, quietly, as he's thinking aloud.

"I should go check up on Lilith, but I think we have ideas that we can run with. I'll get those gas masks, but let me know if there's anything else that we might need." There's a lot of things on Byron's mind. From Isabella's father to this whole Peregrine thing. And then the menacing crow. Taking a long drink of his coffee, he reaches into his pocket to dig out his own phone. Probably letting Lilith know that he's on the way.