2020-03-25 - In the Still of the Night

Three AM and Byron is still awake? That means he has a couple of hours to sleep, if he cared to sleep at this point, before he tends to wake up for the day. At around 2:30, he decided to put on some clothes and have a smoke out on the terrace. Thank God the weather's finally clearing up as winter moved on to spring. The air was still chilly, so he'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a soft navy blue sweater because he was wandering outside. That in itself was probably a terrible idea. The early morning winds would invigorate him rather than lull him into sleep for the next few hours.

With his pack of cigs in hand, he reaches into his pocket for a light before crossing the threshold of those French doors leading out to the terrace. Then he is gone.

Initially, Lilith doesn't really wake when Byron gets out of bed to dress for an overnight smoke on the terrace. She does stir, though-- pillows shift as she rolls in response to the departure from bed, covers tug, and the bedtousled, sleepy woman 'nnmnn' noises incoherently with something like a word. The brunette settles still after grabbing one of those pillows to hug instead of man, trying to cuddle replacement now that she's out of his familiar body heat nook. He wakes up so early for routine, often it's still dark, and she has no clue what time it actually is.

While Byron steps out onto the terrace with his smokes, he's free of a nosy Lilith calling after him, or rolled around half-asleep requests like 'wanna go too' (she lies like that sometimes in the morning about running, and it's cute enough to generally get her kissed back to sleepyland). She goes back to sleep for about three minutes and is perfectly fine with that, but then there's a CAT on her HEAD. Seriously? Technically, the thing's ass is on the pillow above her head, but it's draped right in lay over her head and face like it's trying to smother her or steal her body heat in the weirdest cat-cuddle way. Naturally, she'll say this is attempted murder later, but NOW after whining at the cat (stahhhppit!) and giving it a push, she has to go to the bathroom, of course.

When she comes back out with the sleepy stumble in the dark back to bed, she realizes exactly HOW dark it still is in the room. Which means it's not morning, but Byron is... not in bed and... the clock says... hm. It's not one of his nights for foreign calls, is it? After reaching to touch at the side table lamp, set dim to illuminate the space with low flood of limited bedroom light, she mutters at the cat while turning to fetch Byron's robe to pull over her nude body. Hers is pretty, but his is warmer. The oversized swaddling fabric smells like him too, which is briefly relished with a push of the fabric up into nuzzle and sniff before she ties it off and steps to the hall, "I'm telling Byron you tried to kill me when he turned his back. Don't ask me for the special wet food tomorrow, your balls were practically on my forehead. Mangy alley heathen. Don't look at me like that."

The cat just looks like that, okay.

When Lilith is in the hall, the first place her pink-painted toes and bare feet take her is down the hall to Byron's office, but the door is closed with the lights out and peeking shows nothing. Then she hits the living room and kitchen, immediately noticing that she's not just cold, the actual hallway is cold, and it's even colder when she hits the living area because... the terrace doors are open. Lilith smiles a little to herself and goes to purse rummage out a joint to walk out and meet him with. She's about to ask something flirty about him giving her a light, but then she realizes he's not out there. Shivering, she spins and double checks needlessly, just in case she's half asleep and stupid, then she power walks around the house calling for him with no response.

She gets her phone. She calls his phone. She texts. She steps back outside and her stomach starts to drop because stepping out onto the terrace has stolen them away into the strange and terrible before, maybe it happened again. Looking at the joint she's still holding, her breathing starts to pick up fast and she flicks it, unlit and wasted with fear-based, mindless frustration over the railing. Then that gives her a thought. She comes forward with step and lean to make sure no one broke in and tossed him to pavement below.

It's cold comfort to know that hasn't happened. She checks out in the hallway and by the elevator just in case, though, before coming back to the terrace. She has no idea how long it's been since she felt him getting out of bed. Then stiffly, she eases her robed form down on the arm of the couch, her whole body pointed at the still-open terrace doors blowing cold night air in, occasionally moving with catch on a gust.

Lilith checks the time on her phone. Then she waits because she doesn't know what else to do. Occasionally, she gets hopeful and tries his phone again, but the pit of her stomach tells her what's real with nauseating twist and ache.

Byron's gone.

Byron's not sure how long it's been since he walked into a Dream. In one moment, he's having a discussion with a group of familiar faces in some autumn hued forest somewhere and in the next, Easton starts panicking and shouting, making the entire world go black.

Now Byron was here. Out on his chilly terrace in the dark.

The sweater he'd put on was covered in leaves and dirt. As well as blood. It could very well be his blood, because that sweater is also torn around his abdomen, looking shredded by some sharp claws. If he were bleeding, then he was bleeding heavily, because he's doused in a heavy dose of blood. There's even tiny specks of crimson on his face, at his brow and along his cheek. He doesn't look overly panicked though and for a moment, he is standing there looking stunned, surprised to have been brought home at that exact moment, perhaps.

"What time is it?" Is the first thing out of his mouth. That's the first thing on his mind on 'waking'. He wasn't wearing his watch, though he lifts his arm automatically to check it, to find nothing at his wrist. The second thing on his mind is: Shit. I better go wash up before Lilith wakes up. It was still dark, so she must still be asleep, he'd assume.

It is dark. Lilith did think about turning on the lights like a beacon, a path for Byron, a warmth and reality to walk into. The woman never did, though, her eyes need to stay on the doors. At another point, she thinks maybe she should. She also thinks... maybe it'd be too jarring and bright and this is just right. It's important that she's thinking about him coming back. The other thoughts she has are less pleasant and she doesn't want to think them. In fact, she thinks about a lot of things because she can't stop it from happening. It's really only been a short while, but the minutes feel like hours somehow, and the air coming in is cold, her fingers and toes and the tip of her nose are all starting to feel numb.

It's strange, the comfort in the terribly stupid lies she tries to make up and believe. For about three to five seconds, she pretends that the love of her life is an epic asshole, just out with one of his fucking secrets in someone else's car, maybe a woman. She knows it's a lie and why she's hoping for it over other possibilities. Alive. Safe. The lies don't last long and because she's working herself up even thinking those things for pretend, the woman moves once, making a brisk check for Byron's keys in their 'spot'.

They're where he left them. She knew they would be. Lilith just didn't want to believe it. She can't even lie to herself anymore.

Returning to couch-arm post after the key check, Lilith feels cold in a different way, too. It's a lot like the chill that seeps under the blankets when the bed stirs and Byron gets up, but... it's not physical. It's something inexplicable, in truth, the very principle of the separation chills her, the world feels darker, she feels smaller. Byron is not 'out' or 'away' from here, he is entirely gone from this world and she feels that.

It's dark, the low light glow from the distant bedroom faint in the hall. She's not even sure he'll come back to the same place, she doesn't know how long it's...

Lilith hears the faint drift of Byron's voice on the wind. And though she doesn't quite know what he said, with her sitting so vigilant and worried, she knows what she heard and slowly rises to watch the doors more closely, one step of slow bare foot approach, then another.

(Is he broken?)

It was cold out here, but it was cold wherever he was in the Dream too. Not wanting to linger out in the dark any further, though he really could use a smoke about now, Byron starts on his way back into the warmth and comfort of the apartment. It was still dark which means Lilith-- Just as that thought crosses his mind, he spots her padding over towards him. So much for getting cleaned up before she awoke.

What she gets first is this look of annoyance, but Byron tends to look that way often enough, before those stern lips soften into a quiet smile. "Hey. Didn't mean to wake you." He says this as if it were planned. At least the part of his waking up to wander to the terrace to begin with. That was planned. Looking down at himself and at all that blood, he quickly adds, "I'd hug you, but..." Blood. "Don't worry, it's not all mine. Geoff killed the thing that was attacking me and... we were both covered in Werewolf blood." Of course, he's also bleeding, so there may be a mingling of blood in those open wounds. "Let me get cleaned up and we can get back to bed."

He'll walk close enough to her to lean in to give her a couple of kisses. The first one in her hair, right above her forehead. The second, lower, at the corner of her lips.

Lilith narrows her eyes at Byron and watches him, breathing fast and shallow, then the gaze takes a sweep to his blood mottled clothing before coming back up to his face while listening and gauging his condition on the sly. Her arms that were already slowly rising to reach for him as they closed space, they slowly and obediently furl in tight cling and hug around her midsection and the bundled robe of his she's wearing once he's spoken of holding back hug. She treats it like technique to keep herself from outright grabbing him anyway in her state of immense relief.

There's also a sudden burst of wounded annoyance as Lilith realizes... doesn't matter. Does it?

"Okay..." she says finally, her voice just barely above a whisper and a little bit shaky, "Okay."

Maybe it doesn't matter. That chest-tightening secondary feeling is immediately buried by the swell of relief that comes from hearing his voice while he explains, she knows he's trying to soothe her worry in his own backhanded way. Dropping her lashes down over her eyes as Byron steps in close enough for one kiss, then drops lower for another, Lilith stands still save for the tip of her face upward to nuzzle nose with his in quiet, intimate show of affection and weighted relief. When he's done, she turns her head to look at the bedroom's dim light spilling into the hallway, then starts that way, her arms gradually releasing from her body when she's sure she's not going to fly apart.

"Come on. I'll start the shower and we'll go from there. When you undress, toss those clothes in the hall, please."

Sensing her uneasiness and the tension within, Byron tilts his head to the side to look her over in the dark, watching as the moonlight shone over her features from the large windows. "I don't think there's anything to be worried about." Yet, there was a thought that came to mind after he was mauled by whatever attacked him and especially once he was doused in the thing's blood, there was a concern on Byron's mind, but he's not sure if Lilith can even determine something of that nature.

He doesn't pull away immediately, preferring to stay close to her, just in case.

Eventually, when he heads towards the bedroom, thus the master bath, he lifts the sweater up and over his head, as he crossing the open expanse of the main room, feeling the fabric that's saturated in blood try to cling to his skin. This exposes what definitely looks like claw marks across his abdomen. It's not a deep wound, but it drew blood. "A crazy thing happened. We were attacked by, what I can only tell were werewolves. Not sure if you can get contaminated by their claws... or their blood, but I don't feel any different." Leaving the sweater, as well as stained jeans out in the hallway, he continues, "Funnily enough, after those monsters were defeated, one of them transformed back into Easton Marshall. The others were faces I didn't recognize. Pretty weird. Makes me wonder if Marshall's a werewolf or if that's just the Dream fucking with us."

The sound of the shower can soon be heard, filling the master bath up with steam.

Lilith leans on the bathroom counter edge with her backside and hands, watching Byron walk into the full lighting once he's undressed and the shower is running. Her bed-tousled head tilts some to one side while listening and making another visual sweep of assessment over his body with her eyes now that it's full access to view properly. She had a general idea of his actual state nonspecifically from the first reflex take-in of the man's return. She has a gauge for knowing what's familiar about his body immediately, it was instinct to make quick survey from the inside to know that nothing was critical.

But he's talking about werewolves again, it's honestly what instinctually made her ask him to put his clothes in the hallway so she could dispose of them in a very thorough way, she doesn't know how much of the blood came from Otherplace creatures or how nasty it can be. And now she sees the actual claw rake and knows why it's there. She'd KNOW if he were contaminated by a poison or--

Okay, would she? Are werewolves real like her powers and she isn't aware? If one improbability finds probability, why not another? She really has to stop and think very nerdily for a moment about how it might be a curse instead of a poison, and she starts to look at him very intently all of a sudden, the way his blood and systems are moving and the way the little cells are behaving. It's a thorough inspection, not just flash perception shift, but after a moment, she concludes with a small shake of her head, "... your body chemistry is the same. There's just the damage and nerve endings are running wildfire in places. Pain."

Blowing out soft air over her lips, Lilith pushes out of her leaned post when Byron is finished speaking to stop him a moment before he gets into the shower, fingers touching around the claw marks at his abdomen gingerly. But she doesn't do anything to accelerate the knit or take his pain for the time being, it's mostly a touch of pensive sentiment with her lashes lowered, examining the raw animal nature of the gashes marring his skin, "I'm sure it was the Dream. But i can look for something physically amiss with him on a finer level, if you like."

Her hand slips aside, along Byron's ribcage before she finally looks at his eyes with her own, head shaking a bit, "Get in. Wash that thoroughly. Take a moment. I'll be right back to get in with you."

It's quite likely she wants to get the nasty clothes taken care of so they don't have to deal with it post-shower clean.

Byron has yet to hop into the shower, but with the room now full of steam, the water is evidently heated. When Lilith follows him into the bathroom, he was expecting this and like always, he doesn't seem to have too much in the sense of modesty. He knows the claw marks are there, but he isn't planning on hiding them from her. Instead, his posture straightens even if that particular motion tugs at his wounds more than he likes, but he refrains from wincing. His chin lifted, he watches Lilith as she examines him with both amusement and curiosity in his eyes. He even looks down at the mess tearing across his abdomen and the mixture of blood still staining his skin.

However, she brings up wildfire and this is what he has to comment on because it's been bothering him for a time, "Yeah, I got that after the stupid race w were forced into. Your mouth isn't burned too? I mean, that's why I was a little tentative when we were making out earlier. It hurts like a mother fucker."

When she further examines his injuries, then giving him orders on how to proceed next, there's this grin that cracks over his lips. "Yes, Ma'am." Entering the glass shower, he enjoys the burn of hot water against his flesh, though it annoys the hell out of the scratch marks. "I'm getting pretty tired about needing to replace my wardrobe due to this shit." He continues conversation over the heavy rinse of water. "And I don't think there's anything to worry about with the blood thing. I'll get ahold of Easton, see what's up. Since he was one of those attacking us."

When he assumes that she's out of the room, he closes his eyes to bask in the hot spray. The air out there was still chilly, so this felt good. It helped him relax as well and go through several many things that are racing in his mind.

Lilith shakes her head some at Byron while looking up at him with a certain amount of distraction in her eyes, studying his face instead of his body for a few fleeting heartbeats. Then with small delay, she draws in a breath and turns with her hand trailing off of his skin to let him get in the shower. Things admittedly taste different and it was bothering her, but she wasn't part of the explosive race ending, she was so behind at that point. It's really not worth getting into, though, and she's going to take care of Byron's pain.

But not right now. He's free to relax and be quiet and not put on for her benefit while in the shower while she goes to the other bathroom to borrow the small stainless steel trash can. Once she has it, the woman dutifully walks into the hall, pinches up the clothing that's bloody and discarded with her fingertips, then pitches it into the trash can before transporting it out onto the terrace to put down.

It's kind of weird what happens next. Lilith wants to blaze that clothing with the fury and flame of a thousand suns into instant ash, but her control over actual fire has been strange lately in small ways she tends to dismiss. The clothing smolders and smokes after she ignites the spark in the can. Normally, that would piss her off on principle, but it's too confusing to get mad about, suddenly.

Instead she just stands there watching it smolder and smoke while rolling silent tears. Then after a sniffle, she neatly wipes at her face with the oversized robe sleeves, pulls herself together, and goes to furiously throw the trash can off of the Penthouse balcony. She doesn't even look to see it fall or where it lands, she just turns to head back inside and strips down from Byron's robe to get into the shower once she's back in the bathroom.

Once she's in, she keeps distance to a few degrees, but her new request is quick and firm as she waits to be drawn to him in the spray of hot water.

"... kiss me."

Byron always enjoyed a good shower. It made all of the stresses of the day wash away down into the drain. The tension melting away from him along with the dirt and grime. And blood. From what he's read, hot water, especially hot enough to make the entire bathroom steam up, isn't good for the skin, but Byron wouldn't have it any other way. The heat felt good against his skin, making his muscles relax.

Yet, there's so many thoughts going through his mind-- everything from what he just experienced and returned from to what he needs to do once he gets up in the morning. Most likely, he'll have to skip his morning run and exercise routine and put in a few more hours of sleep. Or fuel up on a lot of coffee for the day.

After soaping up and annoying his bloody wound with a good scrubbing, something despite the pain he feels, he can't help but relish in, he lets that rinse off of him just as Lilith makes her return. She's been gone a while. "What did you do?" He asks, still talking to her from behind the glass case. "Did you trash them or--" The idea of her burning them in a barrel comes to mind. The shower door then opens and he offers her an open smile while water drips from his hair, down his face and over his body. "Hey th.." His words are cut off by her one request. He wasn't going to argue with her on this one and he does exactly what she had hoped he would. Both of his arms reach out, hands placed at her hips, before she feels the draw of him pulling her up against him beneath the hot water.

He doesn't give her the kiss immediately and just holds her there in his arms before she feels him pulling away gently, just to give him the room to lean in close, his head tilted, to press his lips against hers.

Lilith doesn't answer about the trash can, what she was doing, or tell Byron what just happened in a rare moment of fluctuating oddity when she tried to create flames. Mostly, she hitches her shoulders up with tiny bare roll and nods a little vaguely at his assumption while she's being drawn in against his wet body. Technically, she did kind of burn AND trash them (along with the can). After a moment of gently clinging to the man's body so as not to crush and agitated his gashed midsection with the slick rub and pressure of her own body, she tips her face up to catch the kiss from him.

Sometimes it's not pleasant when Lilith starts to mend or heal a person, at least initially. She's not a doctor or nurse or even any good with first aid in a mundane sense, she works with the body differently and pushes the systems to hyperspeed for repair. The woman is far more interested in results and long term relief than temporary discomfort when a bone resets or skin starts to literally knit together with body accelerated force. No pain/no gain is kind of Lilith's deal sometimes, which can be both good and bad, but it's just the way she is.

But this time, given Byron's mouth is where she starts, she pays more mind to what she's doing. The kiss itself literally feels like a wash of cool numbing relief before every nerve in his mouth is alive and healthy again to feel the pleasure of her tongue sweeping to meet. It's contrast to the constant sting of burning he'd been feeling, she started from the outside and manipulated the nerves before moving in to repair, a bit opposite of how she usually works. And she keeps that that approach when the combination of cool numbing fans over his stomach, chased and replaced by warm washes of tingling when skin knits and becomes whole again.

Gradually, Lilith draws out of the kiss to tilt her damp head, humidity and spray droplets starting to soak into her hair while partially under the shower with Byron for the healing balm of relief and affectionate pleasure, "... I think you should talk to Easton and make sure that's not a recurring theme during moon cycles, yes." She pauses a tick with words and breath while standing against him still, not needing to look to know he's absolutely perfectly hale again, "Feel better?"

... also it might be a little odd she's not making out with his face and grabbing him closer to keep kissing right now, considering the way they tend to be when stressed. She's close to docile in such a quiet and serious state, but she's still affectionate so maybe it's nothing at all and she's just spooked and pacing herself. On the other hand, she's being a lot of controlled quiet calm-- that version of her is a little tricky when shitty things happen and she's harder to read. Lilith could feel lots of different ways inside and just be shutting that shit right down to fester or sit on for consideration/processing.

Honestly, it's just easier when he knows she's going to flip shit and break something and get it out of her system because that's the easier Lilith, ironically. The Lilith shut down/shut out reaction is way more problematic and and ruined them the first time around so long ago. Thankfully, he hasn't seen that out of her lately, not even to small degrees of bathroom hiding/sulking or saying 'it's fine' to lots of questions so she doesn't have to answer them.

Byron likes to think that he's able to read people, watching for subtle ticks in their expression, observing their body language or even the way that they move their eyes, but in truth, he's had just as many successes with that as he does misreads and he excels in this far more in the business sense than in his personal life. In business, all he needs to know is whether someone is close to caving in to your offer and if so what to do to seal the deal. And if not, how to better steer it in that direction. In relationships, even among friends, things can be a little more murky, but he's been with Lilith enough to notice some of the tell-tale signs that something is amiss.

He doesn't bring this up immediately and just basks in her presence beneath the cascade of steaming water. While she's somewhat a passive player in this intimate connection, his own passion drives his actions, taking her mouth with such fervor. It hurt at first, but it doesn't stop him this time. Though when his mouth is awash with a cool soothing sensation, there's a slight pause of surprise by this change, before leaning further into the intimacy until she is the first to withdraw. By then, the marks across his abdomen had mended as well, but unlike the burn, it was more of a minor agitation. It was a little annoying since there are sprays in this shower that hit that spot directly. Still, it's always a fascinating experience when the mending does happen.

"I'll do that." He murmurs with a tilt of his head to her suggestion of contacting Easton, his eyes studying her face now. He doesn't release his hold on her completely, though one arm pulls away so that he can twist his nearly healed torso and reach for the handle to start to power the shower down. It's then when he asks, "What's wrong?" There's nothing accusatory in his tone, sounding warm and especially concerned when these words are uttered. Facing her in full now, one of his hands grazes down her wet cheek, tracing along her jawline and chin, but doesn't quite force it to lift. He wasn't trying to force answers out of her, this was more of a reassuring act.

Lilith nods small satisfaction to Byron on the subject of Easton, then starts to open her mouth to speak with sudden reminder of one thing or another while he turns to lever off the spray of hot water. But whatever she was going to say apparently isn't that important at the moment because when he turns back, she notices he's caught on to her mildly constrained demeanor and knows 'what's wrong' is coming before it's quite out of his mouth. The woman visibly pauses and lapses into consideration, taking a good few heartbeats of time. Standing and dripping water in bodily press, her dark and wet lashes drop to close when his hand glides affection at her face.

While she takes that moment of thick quiet, there's a slight tilt to her head, motion that feeds into the caress dragging her steam-flushed skin. Then Lilith's standout blue eyes re-open to look at the man's face with her own fine features falling gradually, a shift from schooled affectionate calm to sober weight. Byron can essentially see her mental processes happening, no doubt weighing and choosing what to say and how to say it. Then again, she might be trying to decide whether or not it's worth saying anything at all given his rough night and her spook about him disappearing for a while.

It's such a simple question, but the answer is a bit layered. Issues don't always crop up immediately, some creep and grow over time, waiting to surface.

"I love you. I'm glad you're safe and with me. Let's dry off and get in bed, mm?"

Even though Lilith isn't quite answering the question, it's subtly implied without words that whatever she's going to explain isn't going to be done until he's resting and comfortable. Her hand rises to feather touch at Byron's face, an echo of the path his fingertips took over her own, then she moves, slowly withdrawing to turn toward the glass shower door. She angles toward getting them both towels so they can make migration to the warmth and coziness of bed, cold air hitting their wet skin once the door is pushed and popped open.

If he has no argument about the plan, she's brisk about getting there, making a little 'brr' noise.

It hasn't slipped his mind that Lilith just healed both of his wounds on the sly. The roof of Byron's mouth was no longer scalded and painful and no matter what he could have said to her about using her powers, the discomfort was completely gone, which made their kiss feel all the more heavenly. Licking at his lips after subtly poking at the top of his mouth to check if he can feel any pain, he tastes loose droplets of shower water that drip down his face.

Her answer, of course, doesn't satisfy him and he has a mind to attempt to read her emotions right at this very moment, but he refrains from doing so. Lilith will open up when she's ready. Leaning in for a quick kiss, he murmurs against her mouth,"You know that you make healing feel magical." A smile forms on his lips as he follows her out of the shower to dry off. He'll help her if necessary, but she seems to have her own mission he notices, when she quickly starts back towards the bedroom.

He should probably read her now that her back is turned, she won't notice it, right? Yet, he doesn't once more. Hanging his damp towel up on the rack, he makes his way out into the other room on bared feet, before settling himself down onto his side of the bed, looking completely and relaxed and comfortable. He pats at a space closely beside him for her to nestle into. "There's no need to worry, sweetie. I'm back now."

Once in the bedroom, the chill in the Penthouse is more noticeable coming from the hot shower-- the terrace doors had been open for a while to the chill, but Lilith doesn't put night attire or a robe on. Instead, she crawls onto the bed to start flipping back the bedding and straightening it from sleep wads and twists, grazing her bottom lip with her teeth as she busies herself with arranging to get warm again. Feeling the weight of Byron on the mattress soon after has her side-eyeing him a bit while settling back against pillows and tugging up sheets and blankets to nestle into. But the pat of indication has her shifting and scooting under the swaddle to forego her side of the bed completely.

When settled, Lilith rolls on her side, into the nook of Byron's arm and body to start soaking up his heat with a tiny shiver. One of her legs shifts to extend and then curl with light weight of drape and limb entanglement around his own, her arm reaching up across his torso. It's at a bent rest, leaving her hand and fingers to rest at the curve of his neck and shoulder, moving with stroke over bare skin. The woman continues to move her touch with doting in slow, appreciative distraction, fanning her fingers partially up over the side of his throat and pulse, afterwards drifting them down and play in brief at his collarbone before murmuring, finally, "I... I know you are."

A soft puff of air sighs over her lips before her touch changes, turning into slow knead of pressured relief with pulsing gradually squeezes and rolling massage, feeling out tension points along the span of his neck and shoulder at the one side, "Don't worry about me, right now. Worry about you. You have work engagements in a few hours. Let's make sure you get some rest." Her damp, tousled dark hair is splayed on her pillow and a few tendrils cling to her forehead and cheek while she continues to look at him and fawn with her fingertips.

Lilith seems as if apt to say something else, but after a tiny heartbeat of hesitation, she tips her face in closer to nudge a kiss at the corner of Byron's mouth, then shifts her lips to his for a lingering slow kiss, "Close your eyes, don't argue. Sleep."