2020-07-23 - Something In The Brain

As always, she's mired in work.

Another consultancy job takes her to Alexandria and the waterways that mark what could possibly be Cleopatra's long-lost tomb; submerged as it is and with experts marine archaeology relatively few in number, it's probably not surprising that pieces of the project have eventually made their way to the University of Cambridge and on Richard Langston's desk - and directly after that, his protege's inbox. Blurry images of the blue-green expanses underneath the surface take up much of her computer screen, her bluetooth receiver mounted on her ear. A cup of coffee is next to a pile of printouts and papers, and she's conversing with the other person on the line with animated relish, ever passionate about her work.

"Visibility is absolutely terrible, though - I can't make anything out save for this amphora," she says, squinting at the screen and attempting to zoom in on said artifact, perfectly preserved and wedged in the bottom of the sea's sandy floor. "The markings on the pillars sound promising...what about the theory about her journey to the Temple of Isis, though? How is Doctor Hawass addressing that new one? If she really died by snakebite, it might even be more likely that she was entombed there instead of where her sarcophagus was actually built..."

And on and on, her hand absently reaching for her coffee cup so she can take a sip, and wrinkles her nose when she realizes how cold the brew has become. But she drinks it anyway, because she hasn't moved from this same spot for a couple of hours.

Alexander has had his own work, and he alternates between skulking inside with all the blinds drawn, to being in his office. Post-its from the murder room have migrated to the walls of the office, although they really only focus on one 'case', now - the various bits of underworld trouble that have bubbled up. But whenever Alexander comes out from the office, he checks up on Isabella. He doesn't interrupt, but he tries to make sure she eats and drinks and sleeps, regardless of the time zones of the people the archeologist is talking with. Right now, he pokes his disheveled head out of the office, and sidles out, noticing the face she's making. He walks past her into the kitchen, and starts another cup brewing.

And eavesdrops. History talk is interesting.

Lilith is totally overdue with Isabella-time, and really, even though she's seen Alexander since she's been back from France, it was in public, and there's really only so much catching up you can do properly around a bar while in other company. But life does that thing where paths keep missing and that.. we-don't-text-as-much-as-we-should-or-could adult life happens, complicated by the fact they live in Gray Harbor. It's a continual wrench with nuts and bolts to loosen inside people, which can really kill the urge to be social here and there.

But the brunette Winslow herself has been pretty well glowing since her return from France with Byron, and if this is thirty, it looks pretty damn good on her. Maybe it's the summer sun, she is more tan and sun-kissed than usual given how fair her skin typically is, or maybe... it's that sparkling piece of platinum and oval diamond solitaire from Tiffany's on her finger that she's also wearing well on her slim finger. It's a sizeable, but elegant brilliance that avoids being tacky and looks somehow in place on her hand while she gets out of the Wraith to come to the door with Byron along.

She hasn't come empty-handed, of course, but instead of boxed pastries, she's tried her hand at making her own fruit and cream cheese fillings to stuff in some flat pastries, drizzled with icing zigzags. Lilith wasn't sure she could actually pull it off, but having a man around to cook for instead of eating dinner over the sink alone these past few months has her branching out and more confident in the kitchen. They're light and fluffy and maybe not bakery quality, but they have that homemade hearty size and goodness about them. The coffees in the drink containers, though, they stopped for, and Lilith has had coffee with the pair enough to know exactly how that cup should be. For someone who isn't much on pleasantries, she sure pays attention to the small things when it comes to the people in her inner circle.

"... they aren't ugly, are they? They don't look like bakery danishes, but I know they taste good, because I ate one. But I wanted them to be pretty for Isabella."

Not sure why it matters, really, and Byron probably has no clue why she cares, but it's what she's fussing about while she waits for the door to open after a brisk knock.

Since the scare of Isabella's disappearance early in his vacation, that whole thing has been plaguing Byron's mind, though he did very little to let on about it to Lilith until the very end. He had his reasons for that and a need to let her know at the very least minute as to not ruin their stay in France together. Then he learned that she was found, immediately on his return home, so that lifted some of the weight off his shoulders.

While Lilith was turning into Martha Stewart in the kitchen, Byron was at his office for most of the morning, balance his duties to the Apartments and the Casino. There was a brief moment where he'd stepped out, needing to meet a client, business associate or someone of that type of nature, but he returns in time to help Lilith pack up her danishes and go drive them to pick up coffee.

Having time to change out of his business casual attire, he's wearing a thin short-sleeved buttoned down, dark in hue with light patterns sprinkled throughout, to go with his jeans and Timberlands. Dark sunglasses are tucked away into the collar of his shirt as they wait for someone to open the door. Obviously, he's carrying the coffee.

"If you keep this up, you'll run Vydal out of business."

With Alexander shuffling to the kitchen, it doesn't take long for the scent of a fresh pot of coffee to reach her nose. Isabella's green-and-gold eyes find the investigator working the press at the kitchen, and her preoccupied face focuses for just a moment at the sight of him bustling around the kitchen, softening visibly. If their eyes meet while he prepares the brew, she flashes him a quick and appreciative smile...

...that fades when she glances towards the door. "I'll get it," she says, ending her call after a quick few words, before bouncing on her feet. Alexander has been in a state of heightened paranoia since a few days ago, but at least he hasn't prevented her from answering the door too often after she promised that yes, she'll make mental sweeps and yes, she'll keep a weapon always within reach - nevermind that said reach could be significant now that her shine has returned to its usual burning incandescence. When she checks for familiar signatures and finally answers the door, she is the first face to greet Byron's and Lilith's and as usual, being around the two of them makes her feel underdressed no matter where she is - even in her own home!

She's clad in a tanktop, a pair of jeans shorts that lived its former life as a pair of actual jeans until wear and tear have literally frayed the legs off, the gleam of her usual moonstone pendant glittering by her sunkissed clavicle, and the clatter of dandelion-themed charms on her left wrist. She doesn't see the ring yet, when she's focused on Lilith's near-violet eyes and the color she is sporting. "Look at you!" she exclaims, reaching out for a quick but careful hug. "I think the French Riviera suits you, how was it? Was it fun? Ronnie, it's good to see you!" He gets the next hug, whenever Lilith releases her.

Alexander goes still at the knock on the door, and tenses visibly when Isabella gets up. But he restrains himself from jumping forward to catch the door, and lets his ferociously capable action archaeologist girlfriend do it. He gets out another mug - and once Isabella starts talking, he gets out a fourth, and puts them on the counter. He's dressed in his usual shabby casual, a bandage barely visible beneath one sleeve as he steps out so he can see the two guests. "Thorne. Lilith. Hello." After a moment, he does offer a small, brief, but genuine smile. "Please come in." In case that was in doubt. Blue Bell walks in from the bathroom where she's been sprawled on the cool linoleum, and gives a rusty miaow as she realizes there are humans who might not be preoccupied with anything less important than petting her.

"I don't like baking that much unless it's just cookies-- it's too precise, I can't bullshit it as much as dinner. Vydal is probably fine. I am kind of a big deal, though."

Then the door's open. Like Byron, Lilith has dressed fairly casual for summertime and visiting, but also like Byron, it's the snazzy kind of dressdown that is keyed up by the small details and flattering cuts and designer names, no doubt. She is wearing some white shorts, but it's the mini-skirted variety with open criss-cross lacing in the front that shows the leg hems beneath. It's paired with a simple fitted black tank top, but there's decorative bangles on her arm and even her hair clip has a little black and white crystal bling on it for updo twist. Then there's the sandal wedge heels that are strappy and fabulous -- even when fairly casual, she loves her damned designer heels and those always up the outfit ante.

That said, she's not beyond kicking them off at the door for the sake of making herself at home right away like a barefoot heathen, especially when the cat comes prowling out to start investigating her bare legs for a rubbing. But first, of course, is a rampant hug for Isabella, Lilith's slim and decorated arms putting on one hell of a squeeze for someone lacking in upper body strength. She makes up for the lacking with rowdy enthusiasm, but somewhere in the middle of the extended hug, it levels out into a steady and fast cling while she pushes relieved kiss alongside the woman's face. Obviously, Isabella is FINE because she's hugging her, but... you know. What if? That's also rampant in the affectionate gesture, the unspoken relief that's only really going to come from seeing a person okay.

The woman retrieves the container she set aside with the danishes in it to pop open and show to the pair after a grin for Alexander, "Hello, hello you two. Especially you, pretty girl. I brought mouth candy to fuel all the jabbering we're well overdue for." Then she finally gives into kitty-urges with squat down to run her hand over the creature's back, "And hello to you too, kittycat. I should swap you with Smaug for a day and see what happens when an animal actually likes me. Your Alex-Daddy would appreciate you more after a day with the tom-jerk judging his every move."

When the door swings open, Byron flashes the pair a smile, though it's Isabella that pulls all of his attention. The lady of the hour. He stands by and watches as the two women hug it out, before leaning in for a hug himself. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He's not sure /what/ Isabella's been through, so though he's uncertain as to whether he should ask this next question, it comes out in a casual, almost playful and friendly tone, "Where've you been this whole time?" It's at this point that his gaze meets with Alexander, as if silently wondering if this is the best time to discuss the woman's disappearance. From what Byron can see, however, Isabella doesn't look traumatized the way he's seen others in similar situations. Maybe there was time for her to heal.

"I don't know, Smog," The CORRECT SPELLING, in Byron's mind, "And Clayton might get along too well. They are similar in nature. A little grumpy, always observant." He then nods a chin with a bright smile over at the other man, finally greeting him properly, "Hey, Alexander."

It's the cling that softens her ebullient demeanor, Isabella's arms crossing over Lilith and squeezing tightly - wordless reassurance that she's fine and alive and here. Her kiss is pressed on the air close to the Winslow woman's cheek. "I'll eat every danish you brought," she confirms with a laugh, releasing her fellow brunette so she can lavish her attention on the cat. "And with relish, you know I don't really eat them unless I'm with you, these days? It's tradition, now. Special." To Byron, he, too, gets a tight embrace.

"God, I hope so, it's not like I got dressed," she quips, loosening her arms once she's got that in, though when he asks, she smirks faintly. "Oh, you know. Work, and the occasional trouble - the last time was somewhat worrisome, but what's important is that I found my way back." She frowns visibly. "It wasn't all for nothing - if anything we managed to discover that whoever survived the actors' troupe that rolled in here last year could still somehow communicate with Them to ask for assistance in tormenting people of their choosing. so I guess once you signed yourself up with a membership card, it's one you can use for life no matter what else you're doing."

She closes the door behind their visitors once they enter. "We've got some coffee to go with your box of danishes," she tells Lilith conversationally. "But you have to tell me about your trip and how-- what is that?!" She points an index finger towards the Winslow woman's hand, now that her sharp attention has been called to the box. "What? WHAT?!"

Blue Bell arches her back into Lilith's hand with a narrow-eyed expression of pleasure on her fuzzy features. She gives a miaow and twines around Lilith's ankles, hopeful looks cast towards the danishes. When she notices Byron, though, the cat briefly abandons Lilith to go throw herself at his ankles with an enthusiastic purr. He's clearly made an impression on the feline princess on previous visits. Alexander grunts, which doesn't much argue against Byron's quip. "Your cat seems nice. He just has a grumpy face." He's never seen the apartment after the stray finished with it, clearly.

He smiles, though, just a little to see the hugging, even if he doesn't move to be a part of it. "Byron," he responds, in turn. He gives a quick, sidelong look to Isabella, judging her reaction to the questions, but doesn't try to warn anyone off. He just grimaces with unhappiness at the mention of the actors. "Hope you're both well. I can put things up." He holds out his arms, willing to take danishes and coffee and put them into the kitchen so they're not in the way of friendship. His smile widens when Isabella notices the ring; he didn't tell her, clearly, and he's enjoying the moment of her realization, watching her with pleasure and amusement both.

Lilith straightens up from squatting cat-pet position to let the animal plow into her man's legs and gusts out a little overblown sigh at Byron's supposition about their own cat, complaining, "He's such a man-cat. Not to mention, he almost threw himself from the balcony three stories down when he saw Ms. Bloomstone's little white Persian girlie out on her terrace. I finally looked down after throwing him inside for rail pacing and sure enough, pussycat pheromones at work. Maybe we should get him nutted and he'll turn cuddly." Poor Smaug better trust Byron in that resolution department, maybe there's a reason he's a man's cat, Lilith talking like that!

The woman flashes a smile as Alexander helps clear her hands, tipping her head with nod during the passoff, and it takes her a second to think about what Isabella is exclaiming about given what the woman's just said about a certain Dark predicament. That and between the woman talking to Alexander and Byron, she just kind of assumed the woman was in the know, but after a lash-batting second, the brunette catches on and suddenly juts out her hand, "Danishes are special now, they're--" Pause, "OH! You didn't know? I didn't know! He did that." Obviously Byron did that, nice explanation Lilith.

Lilith takes a second of just admiring her hand with the most ridiculously girlish bliss expression now that she is reminded of the novelty on her finger that's no doubt the price of a luxury vehicle. Abruptly, she cuts her eyes aside to Byron with her lips slanted while making a little more explanation in a bit of a gush and tumble, "I don't know, maybe I knew, a little bit. Simply because... he had to tell me about the trip before we left, which was a surprise, but then I was thinking, what else don't I know about it, you know? Because it's him and he's a scalawag about the shock factor." So is she, but different levels.

After an intake of her breath, she carries on, "So he saved it til the last leg of the trip and did it updeck under the stars and moon, on the water with a dinner yacht in Monaco and I think... my heart stopped. I guess it started again, though. It was perfect. I mean, he didn't do the whole kneeling public thing, he-- okay, I need to stop, I sound like a pre-teen and I am about to start bouncing and squealing and it's ridiculous, I didn't think I had that gene." But after a grab of Isabella's hands, she kind of does it anyway, saying, "We have to pick wedding things now! It'll be fun! We're certainly not stupid enough to do it here in town, so obviously deciding on a place comes first."

Then she steals a glance at Byron again with vague and rare creep of shyness, repeating some of his own words to her right back at him, "... I mean. When we decide it's time. Because there's no rush."

Byron is obviously more than happy to relinquish the treats he was carrying to Alexander just to free up his hands to pet at the fluffball caught rubbing against his jeans. "Hey, you." Crouching down alongside Lilith, he brushes fingers through the feline's fur, then scritches beneath its neck. It's at this point that Lilith is telling him all about their own Casanova cat. Byron's no cat breeder, so has no qualms about neutering pets. It's not like Smog is going to produce pedigree kittens. "That actually might be a good idea. It's probably a good thing we pulled him off the streets. I wonder how many Smog brats there are running around Elm."

Listening to Isabella's 'explanation' about her whereabouts when she vanished, Byron waits for a time until after the two women gush about the engagement ring. Of course, Byron is standing there, looking proud of it all, but he recalls the evening when the ring was presented and the reason why it had to be then. "This wasn't some long drawn out master plan that I was preparing for for months. Surprisingly enough, it was almost spur of the moment. Just this need to finally come out and do it, you know."

Lilith is then given a quiet smile of both fondness and appreciation for waiting til the right time for the wedding. He has no arguments against wedding planning. That often has to be done years in advance for some bookings and, for the most part, he likes to plan ahead.

"Glad to have you back, Bella. Did they hurt you in any way? And how did you get out again? I mean, that knowledge could come in handy if it happens again. To any of us."

"Jesus Christ, I think I'm blind," Isabella says dramatically when Lilith holds out her hand, reaching out to take it so she can give the diamond a very thorough squint. Because of course it's Tiffany's and if the ring hadn't come from there, Cartier, or Harry Winston, she would have attempted to grab the hatchet immediately because obviously the man Lilith came with wasn't the real Byron Thorne. With her hands clasped, she laughs, squeezing them before they're released, and she offers Lilith another tight embrace. "Oh, darling, I'm so happy for you. Of course we'll pick things out, whenever you would like, and whatever you need!"

There's a bit of reluctance when she releases Lililth, but only so she could embrace Byron again - tighter perhaps, and somewhat longer, befitting the oldest friend she has. "Sometimes when you know, you know," she murmurs, suddenly unable to quell a wave of longing: I wish Sid were here to see this. She does ease away eventually, to reach up and frame his face with both her own, if he allows. "You did good, B."

She takes a step back, and there's an affirmative nod. "But yes, if you're tying the knot, don't do it anywhere around here, please." Valentine's Day was awful enough, and if that was bad, she can only imagine what the town might have in store for a wedding. "As for the rest of it....not physically. The damage if anything was more psychological." She presses her lips together, and shifts closer to where Alexander is standing and while her expression remains stubbornly proud, she's unable to quell the goosebumps that rise in remembrance. "Equivalent to what happens when you're thrown in a hole and left there for a few days, and I only got out because...either They chose to release me, or someone else did. I'm not sure, I didn't see who it was. But admittedly I wasn't thinking by that point, the moment I saw that the cell door was open, I ran and didn't look back."

When Isabella sidles closer to him, he moves to put a comforting arm around her waist, and draw her in so that he can give her a kiss on the hair. Blue Bell is ecstatic with the attention she's receiving, and there's bliss in her wide blue eyes as she rolls over and shows her tempting, fluffy belly. It is a trap, of course, but look. So cute. "He would probably be less trouble if he were neutered," Alexander agrees, blandly. No crosspecies male solidarity here.

The explanation of the proposal gets a look towards Byron; it's amused. "That's serious romance, Thorne. I'm surprised there wasn't a violinist there to serenade the event." A nod to the idea that a wedding IN Gray Harbor is the worst possible idea. He squeezes Isabella again when talk turns to her time Away, like she might slip away if he doesn't. But he clears his throat, and says, "You're standing. I'm sorry. You should sit down. I can bring danishes and coffee for anyone who wants one?" Observant eyes might notice that the coffee table is a different jumble shop rescue than it was before, and there are plastered and freshly painted patches in the walls.

Lilith takes it down a few considerable notches as the subject makes turn onto what happened to Isabella and there's not sympathy, but empathy in her big blue eyes, not just because it's awful and awful could happen to any of them at any time, but... being alone was one of the worst things for her, when she was stuck and Lost for a few days and tirelessly fighting to find a way or get thrown the fuck out of the whole scenario by disturbing things too much. The fight and fatigue wasn't the problem, so much, it was the solitude and hopelessness that comes from it, how vulnerable it makes you to certain tortures, the things that start to scream in your head when you're left with only yourself to trust and face realities that can break down at any time.

"Sometimes, being left alone when everything is uncertain... it can break down reality more than the strange things that actually happen. We're so damaged from this place, we get left with all our paranoias and traumas, which makes us vulnerable in a very personal way." Lilith finally speaks after breaking pensive, listening stillness, though she does take a few stepping edges over to lean and hug against Byron's waist during the explanation. She's certainly not discounting the damage that alone in a hole can do on its own. The caged animal feeling is awful, "... where were you when you ran and found a way out? Could you tell where you were being kept or did you know someone that might have... flipped?" An agent carrying out Their will with second-thoughts because they're still human?

Batting lashes a few times, she looks at Alexander's offer with a sudden gracious semblance of smile and puts her hand in Byron's to lead him over to seating. It's like she has an eye for destruction or something, too, because her gaze kind of catches on what's patch jobs, despite the paint-over, "Who punched the holes?" She's not sure if Alexander is the type to punch frustrated holes or not, and given what he was recently caught up in, it's maybe a valid inquiry.

Of course, Byron doesn't shy away from Isabella after her heart-felt hug and when she reaches up for his face. In fact, he looks her directly in the eyes, taking in her words. His own response is a quieter one, never withdrawing his gaze, "Thanks. That's good to know." While he's a man confident in many of his own actions, it doesn't mean that he never second guesses himself and this was something important that had built up over how many years since he and Lilith split ways at the beginning of high school.

"There are several far better options than Gray Harbor when holding a wedding." Byron's not afraid to say despite his campaigning for making the town that they all reside in into something beautiful and worthwhile for tourism. Though to Alexander, he decides to mention, "There was a violinist actually, called him over to our table to serenade us as we ate."

However, the conversation isn't all a happy story and what happened to Isabella does have a thread to bind with the good and joyous news being spoken of.

"How long were... How long were you gone for?" Though, he knows how weird time works in the Veil, so even as he asks this, he turns to Alexander for real world answers to the inquiry. "I wish I was there to help, but I was a continent away." He then makes sure to add, seeing that Alexander was present, "And I'm not sure what more I could've done that everyone else here in town didn't do already." Feeling Lilith's arms around his waist, he wraps his own arm around her as he listens to the rest of the conversation.

"Which agent is helping them?" He asks of the theater troupe. "Did they do this to you? Have Them imprison you in some hell hole?" The idea that someone may have helped to let Isabella is kept in mind, bu the says nothing more on it. At Alexander's offer to serve them refreshments, Byron almost looks as if he might go and help the man, but he's led away by Lilith's grasp to settle down on the couch somewhere.

Byron didn't even notice the new paint on the walls where there was replastering done, so when Lilith brings it up, his gaze shifts to examine the 'damage' from afar. While he does this, he decides to note, "I had very good reasons in wanting to propose to Lilith when I did. People were going missing from town." And then there was their fight. "Then what Alexander messaged me regarding Isabella, I knew that I had to do it. And now, before we were sucked back into this place."It's something he spoke to Lilith about when he made the proposal under the moonlit sky, but he turns to her at the tale end of his explanation, squeezing her hand in return.

Eyes briefly shutter when Alexander pulls her in for that hair-kiss, and when she smiles up at him, it's a calm and affectionate expression.

Anyone would shrink away from reliving that nightmare, but considering Isabella's survival instincts are relatively skewed anyway (as if she could pull herself out of whatever mire by sheer tenacity alone), it's probably more surprising if she had. After a breath, there's no hesitation in her when she answers Lilith's questions first. "It was a single dark hallway and the only light was a flickering one on my cell. I couldn't see Them, but I could feel Them waiting for my down the hall in the off chance I got out. I was held in a cell, with nothing in it but the words MEGAN WAS HERE," and thus answering Byron's question as to which agent, "...with water dripping from an indiscernible source from the ceiling, and a drain on the floor. It was too dark to see what was under it. The water was...the flow was pitiful, but I think without it, I probably wouldn't have made it." Survival, she knew, operated on the Rule of Three: Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food.

"I'm not sure if anyone was flipped...if it was an entire facility, I was only sequestered in a part of it. But I heard things, while I was kept. Footsteps, sometimes. Disembodied noises. But never actually saw anything. I was gone..." She squints, and makes a face. "It felt interminable. Endless, while I was held. When I found my way back, I had to ask Alexander what the date was. I think I was gone for almost a week. I tried to sleep, whenever I could, but then something would wake me up again. Understandably when I returned, I was....very tired. But it was in one of those half-naps that I realized the door was suddenly just open when I heard chains jingle."

Watching Byron and Lilith intertwine themselves on the couch, unable to part from one another when they talk about this, her expression softens. "I'd be the last to judge you on that and really, this..." She gestures between the couple. "Has been going on for our entire lives, almost. Honestly, it's about time. Anything can happen tomorrow, after all."

"I did," Alexander tells Lilith. His voice is flat. "I was upset. Isabella was gone for...six days, I think." He hugs Isabella to him as they talk about the details of her captivity, remembered worry twisting his features. He doesn't interrupt, and in fact listens with avid curiosity. He hadn't asked for many details. He does tell Byron, "There was nothing you could have done. The Interim Chief was gone, too. And August, Itzhak, and I went over to the other side, to look for Isabella and him. No one told us anything. We couldn't reach them." His arms tighten around her to the point of discomfort. Then he lets go, abruptly, and moves into the kitchen to put danishes on mismatched plates, and pour coffee into mugs.

Lilith listens to Isabella at length with a certain absorb and pensiveness on her fine features, brows at slight knitting of frown. It's a bit like she's drinking all the details in, especially in the case it happens again, anything to find the place if they can. When Isabella talks about the water situation, though, she makes a little twist of lips as if trying to hide her sheer guilt all of a sudden. It's not logical, of course, but it happens all the same-- while Lilith was living it up in France, Isabella was scavenging water to stay alive. But all the same, she smiles some while looking aside at Byron with the gesturing indication from the woman, and it's not rueful or sad or anything like that given the situation of lives here in town when it comes to tomorrows.

Then the woman looks at Alexander with clear understanding, picking up on the tone in his voice. And sometimes, all you can do in a fucked up situation is try to make people feel better by letting them know how fucked up you get too, "Gotcha. Wanted to make sure you weren't getting house visitors, I guess, with what happened at the casino. But you know, I've always wanted to straight punch a hole in the wall, but I can't quite pull it off. Instead, for instance, I ripped down all the ceiling plaster and about knocked myself out with the debris in a moment of fear and frustration." She pauses, "That would have been embarrassing to explain if someone found me knocked out by my own tantrum. Felt good, though."

She watches the man excuse himself to tend to the sweets and coffee (and maybe processing), then looks back between Isabella and Byron for a moment before saying, "I told Byron if anyone was going to find their way back from anywhere, it'd be you. I'm glad I was right." She pauses, then, while looking at Isabella, as if just reminded of something. And it's the kind of look that goes in to a person, but she doesn't really say why she's doing it or what she's looking for, at least not right away.

"Megan." Byron repeats the name, having heard it uttered several times recently. "She was kept in that cell too at some point. I mean, if she scrawled her name somewhere in there." Whatever was going down there with Megan, that seems to be of interest to him. "So this is a different place entirely than to where we've been to before and I'm counting the Asylum in this, though I haven't been there, personally." He's trying to connect some dots in his mind, at least location-wise, having visited quite a few Veil places as it is.

He also doesn't mean to badger Isabella with questions, but his inquiries are general and asked to the group as a whole, simply speaking aloud his thoughts.

At what Lilith brings up about her own tantrum, Byron comments, "We're going to have do something about that temper of yours. Now that throwing tantrum isn't a good way to get out all of that anger. Better than keeping it bottled up inside." He then murmurs, "de la Vega too." Now he wonders if the same fate could've happened to him or Lilith if he hadn't spirited them away. "Was de la Vega released the same way that Isabella was?"

She doesn't mind the discomfort generated by Alexander's embrace - there is a lot of their relationship that entails embracing the agony with the ecstasy and renders her connection to him all the more potent. Isabella gives his arms a reassuring squeeze, before she's suddenly released, her eyes tracking him to the kitchen.

To Lilith's remarks, she nods, her old bravado resurfacing. "Nothing was going to keep me away," she tells her, her ferocity bleeding determined heat in her syllables - nothing directed at her companions, but inward, as if attempting to cement the vow in the very marrow of her. "I promise. I'll always find my way back, no matter what." That far away look in that pretty, near-amethyst irises gives her pause, however, furrowing her brows at her friend - but she doesn't prompt for it. She simply waits.

She shakes her head at Byron's remarks. "I don't think Megan was actually held there, I suspect the words were written there because They wanted me to know who was responsible for my captivity." There's another darkening of her expression at the remembrance. "If anyone ever sees her again, I don't think anyone should let her get away, if she can get Them to trap someone in a Dream in that way." Hours, days...weeks. As Lilith has already experienced, anything and everything can happen when trapped there, alone, and at their mercy.

"It didn't look anything like the Asylum, no," she murmurs. "And...I'm not sure. I didn't even know Javier was taken also until I returned." A glance to Alexander at that.

"He hasn't spoken of his captivity. Not in detail. He doesn't talk about things like that if he doesn't have to. Not to me," Alexander admits, with a weary sort of shrug. People get plates and mugs as he passes them out, and he pauses, looks away when she mentions getting visitors because of the casino - he's a terrible liar, so he just says nothing, and particularly doesn't look at Isabella, even as he moves to find a place next to her. "If Megan shows up again, she should not be allowed to live." It's said quietly, simply. "I have a suspicion that anyone might be able to. If they can offer the Shadows what they want. It's important that people who are willing to, can't."

Lilith continues to look at Isabella while passively listening to take in more details and questions posed, though her hand pulses in brief with squeeze on Byron's when he mentions her temper while overwhelmed or frustrated. After pushing her tongue against her teeth while making thorough (weird) study on the other woman, she murmurs thoughtfully, "You think so?" It's apparently prompted by Alexander's supposition, "I mean, we could have sworn a man forced a Dream on us in the sewers, wondered if it was possible to 'will' onto others, so to speak..."

Suddenly, though, Lilith's hand doesn't just pulse with fond squeeze on Byron's hand, though, it just bears down while she's looking at Isabella. It apparently took her a bit to find or dismiss what she was looking for, but apparently, she's found it now and it's probably not a stellar kind of thing. In fact, it's very much an 'oh shit' moment because that's what comes out of the brunette while she sits very still and stiff while blinking and looking again. Then she groans and falls back against the cushion of seating for a moment to stare at the ceiling like 'fuuuuuuck'. Then that comes out of her too. Very reassuring, Lilith.

After that moment of breathing out two very distinct curse phrases, the woman sits up again to poke about a full half of danish into her mouth, like she's stress eating or just not trusting what ELSE is going to pop out of her before she can put the words together to explain. But she came prepared, at least, not wanting to believe or mention whatever's got her bugged out until she took a look for herself. Also it confirms what others have seen amiss in herself, but she couldn't SEE that on herself and blew it off, despite some weird physical (and possibly behavioral) evidence.

While chewing, the woman pushes up to step over Byron's shoes, going for her purse where she dropped it off by her shoes and the door. She pulls out some catscans of brain imagery from varied dates, one initial set of trauma in full before a progression of the weeks following is shown by date, each scan of the six about a week apart. She hands them over to Isabella and taps the front of her own head before sitting down again to wash down that massive bite of pastry with coffee, clearing her throat, "Those are mine from when the Vivisectionist tried to break my head from the inside out. Then the others are from after, to compare... Erin and August saw something weird but couldn't quite place or explain it, or heal it."

The imagery, when studied at length shows a strange dark mass that might be indicative of scar tissue that shouldn't be on the frontal lobe, at least not with the woman functioning so wholly. The pre-frontal cortex, specifically. It's small, maybe overlooked or missed, most techs called it a machine irregularity, but that's the way Gray Harbor works for some people, excuses to explain strange.

Isabella doesn't have to tell the room twice and Alexander confirms the thought regarding Megan. "Don't worry, if we can help it, we're not letting her go if she ever crosses our paths." If we can help it. It's been a while since he last encountered Megan and that was in a group setting.

Now, when Lilith brings up the sewers, Byron doesn't openly say anything about it. He's tried to ignore that the entire event happened, though it's difficult to forget how disgusting it all was. "That figure," But he will mention the person he had seen in said sewers. Or their silhouette. "Was that supposed to be Thomas Addington?" It's something that had slipped his mind, having put much of Billy Gohl in its own compartment in his head.

It's around that point, when Alexander is passing out goodies, that Byron takes in Lilith's rising anxiety. Not so much from a mental read of her, but first by the feel of her hand within his grasp and then the stream of cursing that comes out followed by the stress eating of deliciously baked danishes. "Everything alright?" It's only then that he attempts to reach out to her mind, trying to learn more about what Lilith is going through right now.

However, when she brings up the scans. It's something that he'd seen before and had very little idea on what to do with that information just yet. He recalls that Lilith was supposed to share this information with several others before, so he resettles back into his seat, eyes on the catscans as its passed from Lilith to Isabella. Obviously, he's uneasy about the whole thing, though is dark gaze lifts to Bella to gauge her reaction to this.

Isabella shifts to make room for Alexander on the floor, where she's perched herself and close to where Byron and Lilith have taken up the couch. She busily makes room for mugs and danishes on the coffee table as it's presently inundated by much of her work. Before she can take a bite out of one of them, she is handed cat scans. "The Vivisectionist did this?" she murmurs, electing to sideskip the topic on Megan entirely, but in that direction, she isn't particularly inclined to naysay Alexander. She simply presses a kiss on his cheek before she inspects the scans.

"I'm no doctor, but...it looks like scarring. Is it dangerous? Do you need surgery?"

It takes a bit for the implications to hit her - whenever Lilith looks at her that way, it's always for diagnostic purposes, and if this had been caused by the Vivisectionist breaking her head open, and she killed the Vivisectionist in defense of her friend and herself...

"Wait...are you showing me these because...?" She doesn't say it out loud just yet, but she lifts her eyes to her friend's in confirmation.

Alexander inclines his head in answer to Lilith's first question. "The actors did it. Brought us all from the playhouse to a castle designed to confine and entrap us." He shakes his head to Byron; it's not a disagreement, exactly, but he murmurs, "I don't know. I don't think so. But I don't know that we ever found out who the man in the sewer - the man in the hospital - was." A glance towards Isabella.

He might be tempted to go on. But Lilith's rising agitation catches his attention, and he goes silent and watchful. One hand reaches out for Isabella, settling on her thigh. He frowns, leans in to look at the scans. He's seen scans before - mostly in textbooks, and sometimes in victims who weren't quite dead after an assault. Either way, he's able to pick out the odd, dark mass. He inhales sharply. "Malignant?" he asks Lilith. He's noticed how she's looked at Isabella, and he turns his attention to his lover, dark eyes searching. "Isabella? Have you felt...okay?" Worry a sharp edge there.

"Yeah. It's there on you too. I don't see it like the scans, of course, it's... an irregularity in.. I don't know, it's hard to explain, everything pulses and color codes different for me. But it's roughly in the same place, the thing that feels foreign and invasive. The thing is, I... didn't really believe it when August and Erin tried to explain what they were seeing amiss, because they couldn't say what was off... it's hard to find, then once you find it, it's like it's seared in as scar tissue, not a natural malignancy. Brains don't heal and scar like flesh so much, but that's... what it's like."

Lilith draws in a breath before explaining all of that to Isabella, then the men as her gaze sweeps around the longer she talks. After a tiny shake of her head and a glance at Byron with mild concern for his state of concern now that she's actually acknowledging it as a problem, she carries on, "The thing is, I feel fine. I thought maybe it was just something showing with healing that would take time. Byron... hasn't noticed me askew either, I don't think? Even the techs were calling those results a machine issue because it's not something they can explain medically, I guess. Which... now kind of makes sense if they aren't like us."

She pauses here, as if uncertain herself, suddenly, about what she's maybe noticing as a few slightly askew incidents or thought processes after the fact, but doesn't dwell, carrying on, "Erin said... it's the... hell, I forgot which area, I'd have to google again. But it's responsible for aggression, impulse control, emotional regulation, stuff like that. I didn't want to say anything til I looked, and I guess I needed to see to believe. It's certainly not coincidence."

Lilith's emotions are what Byron had expected to sense, for the most part. Once she resettles down back into her seat, his arm closest to her drapes over her shoulder, while the other crosses him to reach for her hand in both a comforting and supportive manner. When she tries to find a word that she'd forgotten, he adds in, "Pre-Frontal Cortex, I believe Erin called it. Something along those lines.

When everyone else was Gohl tainted, Byron told the world that there was nothing wrong with Lilith then either, perhaps he's a man who wears rose-tinted glasses every so often when it comes to his now fiancée. He doesn't say anything when she lets them know of his opinion on her mental state and her recent actions, perhaps not thinking too much of it, knowing just how fiery Lilith Winslow can be normally.

"Is this something that is found in only a select few? I'd considered getting a scan done myself to check if we're any different than say people who don't shine. Internally. But with that fiasco with the stolen scans... not that FCN is no more, is that something that we don't need to worry about happening any more?"

She knows that much about the brain - it doesn't heal like any other part of the body, and Isabella's dark brows draw further in quiet rumination on the implications of what Lilith is telling her. There's a chewing of her lower lip, a hand absently dropping to Alexander's hand on her thigh, weaving her fingers between his own clutching appendages and giving them a squeeze that she hopes is reassuring. His question is one that she answers first, lifting her green-gold eyes to look directly at his searching own. "I've felt fine," she murmurs. "But if what Lilith is saying is consistent with what I'm supposed to be feeling if we have the same thing, I don't think we're supposed to feel anything." She's even more doubly amazed at the news that August and Erin both diagnosed the Winslow woman, when there aren't any symptoms or stirrings of pain.

There's another glance to the cat scans; how is it that she can look so unflappable when it comes to being thrown in a hole with the Dark Men lurking outside, but an injury to the brain - and thus threatening her ability to think, and process, and remember, causes her to balk so openly. Her grip tightens on Alexander's hand in an almost involuntary fashion.

"So basically the part of the brain that processes high emotion. And no, I don't think it's a coincidence either. We're already well aware that big changes there have some sort of ripple effect, we don't get away with our meddling without some consequence. With you being the Vivisectionist's last victim, and me victimizing the Vivisectionist, it stands to reason that we would carry it. I just..." Another glance at the scans. "...I just don't know what this means for the both of us."

After a breath, she shakes her head. "I'm not sure," she tells Byron. "It can't hurt to check, I think. Can't be too careful these days. With FCN gone, I don't think we have to worry about our results being commandeered provided that they stay in the city."

Alexander squeezes Isabella's hand back, silent and trying to be reassuring, although his own worry is clear to read on his face. He's never been good at hiding emotions, and he looks from Lilith to Isabella, and back again. "Things haven't really...slowed down much since that. I haven't noticed any behavioral changes that couldn't be explained by the various stressors." He shifts in place; a tumor can't be stabbed to death, at least not by anyone without a surgeon's license. "We could try and...consult with someone over there," he murmurs. "The Doctor would be the obvious choice, except that I think he hates us all." So maybe not.

"It certainly wouldn't hurt anything just to have one done, it'd be neat to compare between us and sample images, in general." Lilith tells Byron while leaning into his body under the drape of arm, fingers lacing through the more masculine fingers at the other hand. She sits for a moment while listening to Isabella process aloud, then nods her head small, but emphatic to Alexander, as if suddenly kicked into thought process by the idea, "Actually, since this doesn't seem like a natural scarring or damage, that's a good idea. Maybe it's something like... I don't know, a Veil injury since we were on that side and at a significant Veil creature's whim for harm."

That said, no matter how much Lilith thinks this is a logical idea for something they can't quite logic at the moment between them all, save for seeing a few parallels, the idea of being diagnosed or treated by something on that side? Ehhhh. Her features shift back toward pensive with a touch of unease, especially with the notation that the Doctor as the most obvious path feels a certain unfavorable way. The Vivisectionist herself is dead. At least, they think she is? Lilith's frown grows as she tilts her head in against Byron's chest, no qualms about PDA in comfortable company, "I don't feel like there's another entity in me or anything, but maybe the Exorcist again, or-- uh. The... archivist knows from historical facts... or you know, it's not like we have an index of what particular consultation assets are over there in City Hall, maybe the Receptionist can direct and suggest and make an appointment."

Lilith then looks up at Byron as if considering another path of action for information to know how to figure out what the mark or affliction is to narrow down the roads for taking. But after a confidential, partial smile as if to say 'later' while he's looking at her, she presses a kiss in brief, but firm press at his lips as reassurance of how 'okay' she is, regardless. Looking back at the other couple afterwards, she lifts her free hand to dust some hair behind an ear, thoughtful, "I guess on the plus side, it's not deadly and we're probably not possessed, exactly, given who we both sleep with." She pauses, "I think I vote Receptionist first, mostly because I'm least scared of it and we don't know what's right."

Mentalist menfolk! That said, Lilith said the mark was hard to find even at her ability and power level, like it was slid in to blend, maybe not just with their physical state, but made to be hidden by their very disposition. It might take more than emotional scans since they're not aware, and it's not likely the paired couples link minds all that much to effect, especially in a searching kind of way, so who knows. It might be something double-fold as a mark.

"The Doctor? He didn't go away with the Asylum?" Byron had heard tales from the Asylum! "I thought the whole place disappeared. Vanished. Then again, this could be a completely different doctor. You're not talking about Marshall's uncle are you?" He wasn't there, so could very well have gotten details confused.

Turning so that his chin rests atop Lilith's head, he openly states, "You know what we all look like... or feel like with your Talents," Not being a Spiritualist, himself, he's not sure what people see or sense or feel when they do physical scans of a person's body. "There could very well be aspects in all of us that you might not be able to notice... except both Erin and Roen sensed something off in you. That means that there are signs that can be noticed. Oddities. As faint as it is." He then makes sure to add, "Not that I'd insist that Healers run constantly scans on all of us in the case that something like that suddenly appears."

Though when there's a discussion on which Veil citizen to contact, Byron's brow arches, "The Receptionist is usually there to sign us in after we, however it's done, are invited to an appointed to various departments, but I suppose if there is such a thing as a help desk, we could try to reach out to that. /I/, personally, have no idea how any of that works. I still recall trying to reach City Hall and getting no answer until someone actually reached out to us and set up an appointment with the Archivist." His eyes shift between the others, "Unless there's an easier way now. More often than not, we are granted an appointment with whichever department that best suits our.... problem? Situation?"

"That's not a bad idea," Isabella tells Alexander quietly. "I'm just not sure who we would turn to. The only person who might know how is the Doctor, and he would rather kill me than help me for killing the Vivisectionist." She grimaces openly at the thought. "Besides, we shouldn't deal with him if we can help it. He's not like the rest of them."

She finally reaches out for her danish and finishes about half of it before she continues. "He's not on the same playing field as the -ists. You know, the Archivist, Exorcist, Receptionist, Psychologist...they're actual entities tied to the Veil and made purely out of the Power. Good news is that due to that, they're not able to cross over. Bad news is that if we cross over, their influence over the Veil and all of its shit is potentially limitless. They're like gods across the way. I call them the Ors...Doctor..." She ticks her fingers. "Collector, and Director. The latter two I've only heard about, but never met."

"We still don't know by what mechanism the corporation was able to intercept and capture data," Alexander points out. "I don't think a scan is a bad idea - but be careful, hmm? I wish we had a doctor we could trust at Addington. Yule is trustworthy, but doesn't have the access to hospital resources...not for living patients, at least." He leans a little against Isabella, his expression worried. But, on the bright side, he's not flipping out into a destructive tantrum. So, yay? His eyes dart from one speaker to the next. "I'd agree that Isabella, at least, is not possessed. Her mind hasn't seemed abnormal."

A shake of his head at Byron. "Like Isabella says...the Doctor was terrifyingly powerful. God-like. I don't know that it would even be possible for anything we do to make him go away. Maybe he just got bored, or the Asylum became a contaminated experimental lab now that the entrances to it are known. And no easier way. I arranged an appointment with the Exorcist, but mostly just by calling City Hall over and over and making a crazy request until an appointment popped up in my calendar." He waves his smartphone to indicate which calendar. He, too, reaches out to take a bite of the danish, and gives Lilith a sudden, bright smile. "This is very good."

It's polished off with a machine-like determination, before he adds, on the heels of Isabella, "From what little I've heard about the Collector, I don't think I want to deal with that one, either. The Archivist and the Exorcist have seemed the most...approachable of them, so far. I imagine there are more, but only one has a crush on Byron." He gives the businessman an amused look.

"Mhm, it's... I know what someone's baseline for 'right' is, more than anything. Everyone runs different. So even when I can't always see what's wrong without some focus, especially things like this... it can be a nag here and there, which is probably why August caught on. He was there to...check me and relieve me more after the hospital?" Honestly, Lilith's sequence of time and events even after her release from the hospital with that particular wounding, it's all blurry to degrees. Then she supposes, "I don't think we'd have much known until I was hurt again and under someone else's mender care, like what happened with Erin seeing it. Because we were messed up after the garden party."

After a thoughtful explanation for how she's able to suss out these kinds of things for Byron and those present, she goes quiet to listen to his questions and then Isabella's bit about the varied Veil denizens of mettle. While seated and taking it all in to consider, she slides her free hand that isn't laced with the nearby man's fingers, rubbing at the small of his back while cozily leaned in trying to figure out what to do about unpleasant mystery medical/psychic conditions. And though she was cussing some earlier and clearly stiff with unease on realizing something WAS amiss once she saw it in Isabella...

Really, all the closeness to Byron in cuddle and the company itself seems to have abated that, turning it into just one more thing to puzzle and iron out, like they do around here. For some reason, before Alexander even lays on the danish compliment, she's started smiling a little to herself, and the expression grows from there, "Thanks." Her mouth opens as if to pipe in or decide something, then it closes when the bit about a crush on Byron sinks in late, "Oh, right. RIGHT. The archivist is that... blob thing that wants to..." Okay, Lilith looks a little protective there now against the man, her hand at his back gripping at his shirt while she tightens arms with 'mine' gesture, "Cuddle my cuddlemuffin."

But, aside from her sudden helpless amusement at calling Byron a 'cuddlemuffin' in front of company (she's literally never used that word for him before), Lilith is also thoughtful again, "... maybe the thing would be willing to explain what the hell if Byron asked, though." She pauses, looking up at the familiar dark eyes with a squint, "Wait, I don't want to use you as bait, it might hump you."

"The Doctor was the one decapitating people?" Byron says with a narrow-eyed gaze, "Right. Not contacting that one." He's not even sure why they'd bring the crazy scary guy up! There is a curious look in those still narrowed eyes when Isabella explains the difference between the -ists and the -ors. "How... How did you figure that out? That some are entities tied to the Veil and that others are made out of Power?" He tries to think of the other -ors who he's met. Which is none. He's only ever really heard of stories of the Collector.

This is when he takes the time to enjoy Lilith's danish and a couple of sips of coffee as he processes everything. The bite of danish, at least, adds a little bit of sunshine to what would seem like a dreary conversation, flashing her a smile to show his appreciation.

However, he can't help but look incredulous at Alexander's accusation, trying to brush away such silliness, "After our last conversation," In which he and the Archivist had a bit of a spat, "I'd say that you were wrong." Nevermind that the thing was in a wedding veil. He then shoots Lilith a glance. It's not a harsh glance, but a 'Whose Side Are You On?" sort of look. "We don't know what that thing is thinking and I'm not about to try and get a read on it, but if it has information that we need or knows where we can find that information, the Archivist hasn't been the worst..." He tries to think of all the Veil types that he's met personally and that's not many, "that we've had to deal with. And that's not saying much."

"Anyway, I'll get a scan done. Or one of us can try to make influential friends with some of the medical staff there." At the hospital. They've all been admitted there often enough as it were...

Alexander can't help it; when Lilith says 'cuddlemuffin', the investigator snorts the coffee he was just drinking, and bows over on the floor, coughing and laughing at the same time. It takes him a moment to regain control, and not even the conversation regarding the Doctor can entirely smother his mirth, or the merry teasing in his eyes as he glances at Byron. "No, no. From what I've heard, he definitely has a thing for you, Byron. I'm sure he's not the first." A pause. "Maybe the first interdimensional being. But that's probably just because you haven't been to a lot of dimensions," he adds, thoughtfully.

He does sober a little as he says, "Isabella read the Doctor. I didn't, but I have no reason to doubt what she felt. He was," a shake of his head, "terrifying. I thought he was a Shadow. An actual Shadow, not just the constructs of Dreams. I think he could have killed us all, and I'm not entirely sure why he didn't. An experiment, maybe. Catch, tag, release?" He takes a careful sip of coffee. "So we don't go to him immediately - but if things turn bad, or seem to be getting worse..." a look at the two women, both beloved by the others in the room. "We don't take it off the table, at least."

How did she figure that out?

"The usual," Isabella replies, with plenty of self-deprecation and sheer awareness of her ridiculousness. "I push all the red buttons, dive head first into chasms, touching all the things and asking questions to people and things who are absolutely guaranteed to make my life miserable if I ever annoyed them, which I often do."

Finishing her danish, she sinks further against Alexander and releases a pleasured groan. "That was way too good for it to be legal, Lil, I hope you know."

"Mmm, Byron? You're gorgeous and you have this way about you. It's not a far fetched thought to think you'd enchant non-humans too. Trust me. I've been obsessing over those eyes for longer than you would have suspected." Lilith says with draw back and brief dust of indicative fingertip along the bridge of his nose before unentwining and sitting up straight to go for another danish and drink of coffee. Despite her brief amusement with the chosen endearment and Alexander's clear continued amusement, she's quite serious about all of that, "Who knows what those things feel, though."

"I think we pretty well at least agree that certain entities are more amenable than others and... starting with the most available and amenable is an ideal start, perhaps. Assuming we want to go that route first. I don't... really know what else to do." There's a quiet and low whistle through her teeth and lips with sobering after the Doctor is explained to be different, and not in a good way. After a brief sigh through her chewing, she washes down a bite with a long sip of coffee, though a creep of smile returns when Isabella explains her general Modus Operandi when it comes to knowing things, the expression turning into a full proud flash of grinning for compliment. She's making quick work of her second danish, so apparently, she agrees with the all around consensus, "I feel like a kitchen superstar if we're being honest, because who makes danishes at home? This gal."

"Anyway... you just try some broken avenues or bounce calls around or send bad emails until you get attention from City Hall on the other side? Being annoying as a tactic shows persistence and gets a message across somehow, I guess." Lilith considers Alexander's earlier explanation as to how he got an appointment aloud, nursing her coffee cup near once the danish is gone. Then she looks at Isabella with a mildly frustrated expression, "Hard to know what to do or how to do it when we can't even feel what the hell is happening. Made it pretty easy to deny for a while, but even if it's something maybe dormant? It makes me nervous to think it's just this... this kind of 'smear' left on us."

Then she admits a little slowly, "... maybe retrospect and acceptance will make me more aware of any behaviors, though? I guess we should try to be uh... mindful."

Yeah, okay. Lilith and Isabella thinking before they act in the heat of the moment probably isn't their strong suit. While tactfully phrased to their benefit, the actual translation given her look and tone is something like: let's try to remember when we act like fucking idiots more than usual! Easier said than done, though.

Look, Byron's not ashamed of being called a cuddlemuffin out in the open like that. Or that's how he comes off. Taking a bite out of some danish, his eyes peer over at Alexander at the man's outburst. his expression neutral if slightly quizzical, "Careful there, Clayton. I'm sure that Isabella can come up with worse for you." And with that his gaze lowers as he takes another sip of coffee. However, as there's some continuous joking regarding well, whatever the hell the Archivist's thought are regarding Byron, the businessman's features soften, brows lifted, "I mean, I'm not going to discount the fact that yes, I see myself in the mirror every day. You're not wrong." He's probably saying this all in jest or he really is that vain. It could be the latter. He then adds in a slightly sobering tone, "Might not be the first either." He's not sure why his old family home is out to get home.

He has no further questions on how Isabella found any of these things out and seems satisfied by her categorizing of these Veil things. This Doctor doesn't seem to work with the Dark Men or else the others would have mentioned it. That's good, he supposes. "I'm not sure if it's the being annoying part, but who knows how any of it works. One moment, we couldn't get a call through to City Hall, the next thing we know, an appointment was made on our behalf. What changed since then? What did we have that they wanted?" Finishing off his danish and leaning forward to reach for a napkin to wipe off his fingers, he murmurs, "I'm sure there's some give and take."

To whatever is dormant within both Lilith and Isabella, Byron is sure to speak out what he truly thinks, "Let's hope that we find a way to get rid of it and quick. I don't like it one bit. I don't know what it represents or why you both were... infected by it. If you ask me, nothing good will come of it."

"I have a few," Isabella confirms to Byron. "Though none have been mentioned within his hearing." There's a sidelong glance at Alexander at that, mischief in her eyes.

It's one that fades, though, when she circles back to Lilith's frustration. "It's been a few months," she murmurs in thought, turning her mind to the problem as she falls silent for a beat or two. "Normally when things affect us in a major way across, things eventually find a status quo whenever we return to this side, so it's rather strange that it hasn't faded away yet. Which means there's a risk of permanence depending on what occurred and what was affected." She chews on her lower lip further. "It bears thinking about, give me a night or two to think about it. But for now, since it's not really hurting us save for maybe certain decision making functions under fire...we can try and be a little more careful."

When Isabella sinks against Alexander, he gathers her in his arms and rests his chin lightly on her hair. She can still feel the little hitches of breath at his amusement. "I think Isabella has already come up with the strangest word that might ever apply to me, so I have no further fear in that regard." He kisses her hair, the amusement warm in his voice. He doesn't comment on Byron's attractiveness, but his eyes are more lively with amusement than they hardly ever, ever are.

He does attend to more serious matters, though, and nods to Lilith. "Start with the friendly - comparatively friendly - ones is always a good strategy. But I don't know if that's what's supposed to be done, as far as getting appointments. It's just what it occurred to me to do. Might have only gotten it because of Kelly and his mother; the Exorcist is concerned with spirits and keeping them from getting in the way of the living, or vice versa. I don't think she likes me at all." There's only a sort of weary acceptance at that - Alexander is accustomed to not being liked, on either side of the dimensional barrier.

After a moment, he voices his agreement with Byron. "If we can fix it, we need to. Nothing from over there should be inside of you, I'm pretty sure. Not long term." He shifts uneasily on the floor, and his hands rub at Isabella's arms.

"Ahh, well... I guess we'll see." Lilith says in regards to contact with the other side, so to speak, head nodding a couple of times before she drains the rest of her coffee. The mention of possible permanence unnerves her some because in a sense it feels like a ticking time bomb, though part of that is her unawareness of how it's been leaning weight on a good few of her actions and decisions. In fact, she's imagining all kinds of morbid things now and almost starts to blurt out a pretty terrible game of... what if? But she smiles some at the other female all the same, shoulders hitching up some before she reaches a hand up to adjust some of her hair, "At least we know what cursed compulsion and possession feels like, and we can attest it doesn't feel like that. Bright side."

That damned Ring. Definitely doesn't feel like that.

Lilith especially works at staying calm and conversationally amicable once Byron has posed his thoughts on the whole matter, which she understands, of course. Putting a hand up with palm over his chest at the heart to rub with affectionate, reassuring gesture, the woman looks at him and gives Isabella and Alexander a moment to kind of cuddle up and soothe themselves, "I know you especially don't like it, I know I'd be far more bothered if it were you and I couldn't heal or fix it. I get it. But we're all smart and aware people now and we'll figure it out, somehow."

Her gaze sweeps over toward the other couple while she leans in to rest against that doted upon chest of Byron's, smiling some in a way that's full and appreciative for company all around, seeming to find some semblance of faith in her words, "I mean, it's what we do, right? One way or another."