2020-08-11 - No One Is Going to Amputate My Arm. I Need That.

(TXT to Byron) Alexander : thorn thorne with an e damn it

(TXT to Alexander) Byron : Are you drunk, Clayton?

(TXT to Byron) Alexander : no using text to type

(TXT to Byron) Alexander : voice to text whatever

(TXT to Byron) Alexander : can i ask a favor i'm sorry

(TXT to Alexander) Byron : Is something wrong or are you being lazy?

(TXT to Alexander) Byron : What favor? What do you need?

(TXT to Byron) Alexander : my arm is flocked. dream. in borrowed car can't drive could use a pick up not far from the apartments on an overlook

(TXT to Alexander) Byron : Floc... My security detail will come with. Help move the car. On an overlook along Bayside? There's a few places to check, just try not to die.

Alexander doesn't reply to the last text, which hopefully means he's just tired of messing with the flocking phone. Cristobal's classic Ford Fairlane is on a popular sort of overlook with a beautiful view of the town, and Alexander is inside, slumped against the wall. Emotionally, the place throbs with pain, physical and emotional, and distress. Part of it is his arm, sure - it's almost completely black and pulpy with some sort of massive internal trauma - but a lot of it is just pure emotion: horror, sadness, fear, anger, all tangled up and directed inward.

So used to Gray Harbor horror by now, the Wraith is packed with medical supplies as well as a ton of towels. Byron's ended up bloodied and worse (He did have to battle sewer slime in a sewer once) over the past year, so he's well prepared to protect the interior of his vehicle from getting too messed up. Bayside is a pretty long stretch of road with anywhere from small cottages to expansive mansions and also the Apartments lining the street. There are also overlooks that cut in through these, giving an excellent view of the Bay.

Keeping contact with his body guards who are driving along in a vehicle behind him, Byron doesn't stop until he gets to a place where he knows there's an overlook or, at the very least, lack of buildings or any such structures. He's very familiar with the area. So as not to waste any time, however, rather than basing everything solely on visual cues, he expands his mind to do a sweep of the area in the hopes of picking up a strong emotion that stands out from the rest. Distress, pain. Fear, maybe?

So when he comes across this mixture of intense horror, anger and the like, unless something dangerous was going down in Gray Harbor all at the same time (something which he would believe could happen), he has a feeling that he's found his guy. Pulling the Wraith up to come to a stop just beside the Fairlane, he steps out of the car, giving the area a visual sweep, before reaching to test the driver side door. "Clayton." His voice is firm when he addresses the man.

The area is clear and deserted of other people. It also looks calm, with no signs of violence. Alexander, although his eyes are closed and he's leaning against the door when Byron pulls up, he's too twitchy not to hear that car, and he straightens up as best he can. When Byron appears at the driver's side door, Alexander looks out. His face is red and blotchy; he's clearly been crying recently. Bright side: there doesn't seem to be a lot of blood or anything. He opens the door, and almost falls out, clutching the handle with his good hand. "Thorne." His tone is exhausted, pained, a little slurred. "Thanks. For coming." He starts to get out of the car, sort of staggering upright. His phone and a knife are still in the car.

Dressed in one of his usual dark suits, as always, Byron cuts an impeccable figure. Staring down into the car, yes, his eyes focus on Alexander first, but they go beyond him to check in which state the vehicle is in to find any signs of anything. If it's evident that Alexander's been crying, Thorne won't bring it up. Instead, the businessman focuses on Alexander's flocked arm just as the door swings open and the detective nearly spills out of it.

Putting some weight against the door so that it does just fly open, he automatically reaches out for Alexander's arm to help keep him steady before immediately releasing it. He knows how Clayton acts when his personal space is invaded in that sort of physical manner. "Can you stand?" He asks and once Alexander gives him the room, he'll slip in to make a grab for the phone and the knife if they are together. He then looks to check if the keys of the Ford are still in the ignition, just as a second dark car pulls up, a pair of his security team filing out of it. "And where do you want me to take you? Your place? Isabella's?" For now, he doesn't ask too many questions about what happened.

Alexander tenses at the touch, but doesn't flinch back. He's dressed in his usual, aggressively casual clothes. There's a jerky sort of nod at the question. "Yes. Think so," he mumbles, more to himself than Byron. His other arm dangles uselessly at his side. It's swollen with loose blood under the skin, and unpleasantly resembles raw sausage in some parts. It brushes against the door and he goes pale. It takes him a moment to concentrate on the question. "My place. Isabella's at a work meeting. Um. Conference call across timezones." He shuffles out the way of the security people as they file out. "Sorry. For the trouble. Just didn't think I could drive myself back without hitting something." He tries for a smile. "Hope I didn't interrupt anything fun?"

Alexander's arm really was messed up and Byron can't help but look at it, trying to figure out what was done to it. He's no doctor, but he's seen in a lot of movies! And he's been in some dangerous situations, himself. "I've got your things." He shows both the knife and phone to Alexander, held in different hands, before he slips them into his pocket. "Roswell will deliver the car to your place if that's alright." He then stops to give the car another look-over, "Lucky for the owner, it doesn't look in too terrible a shape."

Once they get to his car, he pops open the trunk and grabs some clean towels. "Here. For your arm. Do you need it fashioned into a sling or anything to keep it comfortable rather than..." Just having it dangle like that!

Alexander blinks at the phone and knife a couple of times before, slowly, nods. "Thanks. And that's fine. I was just taken out of it. Wasn't driving." He grimaces. "'s why I don't have one, you know. Was always afraid, I'd get lost while driving. What would happen to the car? Crash? Go over there?" A frown. "Didn't know." The last comment about the arm cuts off his rambling, and he looks down at the arm. "I can't...bend it. Easily. Fuck." Then he looks back up to Byron and offers a sheepish sort of smile. "At least all the blood is contained? Won't mess up your upholstery."

With towels in hand, Byron drops into a crouch to get a better look at the dinged up arm. A tentative hand reaches to poke at it gently to test whether he has any feeling in it or whatnot. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?" His gaze lifts from his lowered position when this is asked. "I really gotta know, what /did/ that to you?" Seeing as how the man can't bend his arm, Byron won't bother with it for too long.

"Want me to call Lilith?" Alexander knows that Byron doesn't really like Lilith using her powers to heal. Not with the threat of Dark Men angrily looming over her because of his abilities.

When the other man seems to be in high spirits, Thorne just laughs, "Don't worry, I have some plastic covers in the trunk as well. Never know when they'll come in use." There's his near exasperated look on his face, "Especially not in a town like this."

Alexander hisses in pain when Byron pokes at it. So, yay, there's feeling! Bad feeling. "No. No hospital. It'll be fine." He doesn't sound all that certain of that, but he's firm about not wanting the hospital, at least. "As for what did it? Them. We were...snatched. A dark place, almost featureless, except for strange, black filaments. Some of them got inside my arm." He gestures with the other hand, as if to say you see what happens.

The offer of calling Lilith makes him pause. "I...don't want to get her in trouble. It'll probably heal. Nothing's broken." He eyes the pulped arm. "No bones, anyway." One eyebrow goes up. "You have plastic covers in your trunk? Just...tell me you're not dumping any bodies, mmkay? Even corrupt cops."

"No hospitals then? What if your arm slowly starts to decay and die. And fall off?" Byron says far too seriously, but anyone with a dark sense of humor might be able to tell that he's just being a jackass. He listens to the explanation given, none of which is particularly special, with the world in which they live in here. At least to Byron's mind for now. Drawing himself up to stand, he puts any extra towels back in the trunk, shutting the door shut.

The only thing that he relays to Alexander when the man mentions this dumping of bodies, is this brief bit of eye-contact to go with what might be a smile. It's quite faint, so it's hard to tell. Without even saying a word, Byron seems to have moved on from that conversation, gesturing to the passenger side of the door when it automatically starts to open. "Why do you think that it will heal? I mean, without holding back anything, it looks /terrible/." He's rounding his car, casting a quick look over at Alexander at the passenger side before he ducks into the driver's seat. "Someone should probably look at it. Lilith, August. Just to make sure it's not worse than you think."

Once they are inside, the doors shut closed and he starts the engine. The Wraith pulls out and onto the street with both the Ford and the dark SUV trailing behind it.

"Were you alone?" Byron asks, his gaze primarily focused on the road.

Alexander gives Byron a look. "If it decays, I'll go to the damned hospital," he grumps, and follows along behind the man, although unsteadily, his head bobbing like it's hard to hold up. It's not that he misses the bit of eye-contact, and his mouth presses in a thin line as he returns it. But when the passenger side of the car opens, he makes his way slowly over to it, to settle himself into the car. Ignore the whimper when he has to pull the seat belt over his arm and fasten it; he's sure trying to.

I...someone probably should," he agrees. He leans his head back, for once not enchanted by the Wraith's interior or casting wistful looks at the driver's side. His eyes close, but he answers, "No. There were two others that I saw. The magician. Who was with us with the actors. Aidan. And...um...shit, what was the name. Rekani? I think he was high."

Aidan and Rekani, both men who Byron sort of knows, but barely. Of course, he's seen Aidan around town for years now, especially along the boardwalk. Rekani, he's met at more formal functions or big galas. Aside from what could be considered a nod, he doesn't have much to say on the pair either way.

Rather, something else comes to mind, which he decides to inquire on. "The three of you. Did they all leave afterwards?" He briefly turns to regard Alexander after this question, before his gaze resettles on the road ahead, "Like a collective Dream, where everyone who glimmers, in a given location are pulled into." That was one way to have a shared Dream of this nature, but there's also another. "Or were you all drawn in from your respective locations?" But seeing that Alexander didn't seem to know the other two men that well, Byron knows that it's not a single person's Dream where those closest to him, or his associates, are also dragged in.

Then a minor question also comes up, "What were you doing at the look out?"

Alexander doesn't open his eyes. "Yeah. They both got out, I think. We all went through a doorway. The one guy, Rekani, threw Aidan through it. But I think we ended up where we started," he says, lifting his good hand up to rub at his eyes. "Not together. I was alone at the car. I assume they were alone wherever they were." He makes a noise at the last question. "Nothing useful. I was watching the city, thinking about things. Trying to think about how I could help." There's a deep breath, held, then let out slowly. "It wasn't just the filaments," he says, after a while. "They stuck us in these prison. A shell of some sort. And tore apart my defenses and...I felt everything. Everything bad in the world. All at once."

"There is where my concern lies." Byron says as he steers off Bayside onto the next road over. "Usually, it's a same place, same Dream scenario. When it gets to be a Dream that pulls you from various parts of town? It's usually no longer random. There's some purpose. Or so I feel." Right after he utters those words, it's clear to him that there are particular situations where randos are dragged into a Dream from various locations throughout town, thus he mutters, "Unless it has something to do with that damn city. That, I believe, was just a distress signal put out to ruin anyone's day who was unlucky enough to have heard it."

Checking his rear view mirror to ensure that the other two cars were still behind them, he falls silent to listen to the man's explanation. "Was there any sort of Prison Warden type? I'm just saying, was this is a Dream or the Veil? Something more akin to when we received those invitations that one time."

"Abilities," Alexander mumbles, after a moment. "Rekani tried to make a light. That's something that strong movers do. And Aidan makes fire - strong healer. And there's me. It clearly wasn't looking for exclusives, because I can heal a little. But we each seemed more comfortable with each of the three schools of abilities. Probably not a coincidence." He takes a breath, groans as he shifts in place. "Definitely a Dream. Meant to terrorize, hurt." A long, thoughtful silence. "It said something would rise. That it would feed and it would rise. I think. I assume it meant feed on us."

His eyes barely leave the road, but there are hints found within them, along with some subtle expression shifts that hint that he's processing everything Alexander is saying. "So They chose three people, all of whom had a different Talent... preference, as you will. I wonder why." They were coming upon Elm Street shortly. "Of course it was meant to terrorize, that's what They do. Too bad we couldn't treat them like the boogeyman, well, in those stories where not believing in something feeds them with little to no power, weakening them. Imagine, escaping a Dream, by simply telling them to "Fuck Off." He then clears his throat, "Well, following up with the fact that you don't believe in Them. You don't fear Them. And They have no power over you. And yeah, Fuck off. If only our world worked like that."

Somewhere along Elm, he checks in on Lilith's shop first, making sure that it's not a burned out husk. All looks well enough and he spies the guards he had placed to watch over the shop in the distance. Satisfied by this, he moves on, driving to the length of Elm until they reach Clayton's place. "What did you plan on doing once you got home?" He asks, pulling up in the guy's drive way, his hand reaching for his phone, more than likely planning on sending a message to someone for assistance.

Alexander nods, confirming it. "I don't know. They didn't try to make us work together. Or against each other. They just had us in separate little boxes. I tried to cut my way out, at first, but it was like cutting myself." He frowns, slightly. "The boogieman is always there. Whether you believe in it or not, Thorne. Stories lie."

He opens his eyes when the car comes to a halt, and there a sudden, woozy chuckle. "The last time you visited in this car, someone asked me later if I was selling you drugs or blackmailing you or something." It's Elm. "I guess I'll take some pills and go to sleep. Hope it feels better in the morning." He eyes his arm dubiously. "I've never really...had an injury quite like this one, before. It looks a little like a deep tissue sore, and for those, you're just supposed to try and keep pressure off it, keep it clean, and make sure it doesn't get infected. So...I guess I'll do that."

If Byron even wanted a small inkling of knowledge of what Alexander was going through or what he's experiencing emotionally right now, the businessman would do a read on him. But Byron is always cautious about doing reads on emotionally traumatized individuals, finding that he'd rather not share in those particular experiences. Thus he refrains from even attempting it now. In fact, his phone is already out and to his ear. "Look, as long as the boogieman stays out of my way even if likes lurking about. I'm not going to say I'm fine with that, but I'll take that over the alternative."

(TXT to Lilith) Byron : (The phone starts to ring. It's Byron)

"Let me check to see where Lilith is. Failing that, August. It'll make us all feel better, I'm sure." Byron says, turning in Alexander's direction once the engine has stopped. He then adds on, "You're a P.I., why else would I be visiting this dump?" He's joking, even if he presents this in such a deadpan way.

"The boogieman never stays out of your way. Not forever. It's always there, just waiting for a good time." Alexander: Eternal Optimist. Even as he makes an agreeable sort of noise to Byron's intentions, he unbuckling the seatbelt, tears briefly springing to his eyes when he fumbles the clasp and it bangs against his arm. "'m not licensed," he reminds Byron, "so I can't call myself one. And you can afford better." The fact that his house is a dump is so plainly true that it doesn't even seem to register. He just mumbles, "Thanks. Be careful." And then he reaches for the door handle and staggers back out of the car, already half on massive Dream trauma auto-pilot. Yeah, it happens often enough that he has an auto-pilot for it.

(TXT to Byron) Lilith : (The phone is answered in a couple of rings, as if it's right nearby) Hey handsome.

(TXT to Lilith) Byron : Beautiful. Where are you right now? (Speaking into the phone, turning away from Alexander) Clayton's arm is in real bad shape. (That's when Alexander opens the door and starts to stumble out) Shit. Do you think you can stop by at his place on Elm? Just to take a look at it.

While still on the phone, Byron gets out of the car on the driver's side, before making his way around the vehicle to catch up with Alexander in the case the guy's about to topple over. "Lilith's dropping by. Let's get you inside and settled in." He doesn't grab ahold of Clayton to keep his steady even if he hovers closely enough that if he suddenly fell or slumped over, Byron could take action quickly. All the while the trailing vehicles pull up as well. Not into the drive way directly, but they park nearby. The driver in the Ford getting out of the car to lend their assistance as Byron continues to chat.

(TXT to Byron) Lilith : (after a brief pause of silence on the other end of the phone) ... yes. I'm just out on the terrace with my laptop, I'll be right over.

Of course, Alexander's keys are in his dominant pocket, which means he instinctively reaches for them with his dominant arm, and nearly falls over from the sudden spike of pain. "Son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath, and instead reaches across his body, carefully, to fish out the keys. "I hate this fucking town." He opens the door, and only then seems to realize that Byron and his people are still there. He turns and blinks at them, muzzily surprised. "Oh. Hello. Would you like some soda?" He backs into the living room, avoiding without looking at her the cat that throws herself at his ankles. "You can sit down if you like. I have a couch."

(TXT to Lilith) Byron : Thanks, hon. Can't wait to see you soon. (Nevermind that she's there to see Alexander's janky arm)

(TXT to Byron) Lilith : (there's a brief kissing noise into the phone before she hangs up) Soon. Love your guts.

Byron's doesn't know what to expect from Alexander in this state, but he knows that the man is barely functional. When he found him, the guy was slumped down against interior car door. Not only that, he could barely keep his eyes open. So Byron's not surprised when Clayton teeters a bit on his feet when the shock of pain shoots through his body. "Careful. Try not to use your bad hand if you can help it." Obviously, this cannot be helped!

Once Byron's inside, the guard will take his post, positioning somewhere other than the SUV, where the other guy is keeping watch, going for a different angle.

"Did you hear me? Lilith is dropping by. So just sit down, remain still. And try not to crash into anything." His eyes peer down at the kitty and he immediately leans over to scoop the feline up just so that it doesn't accidentally trip Alexander, getting cat fur all over his suit. "You know my feelings about the place." He's speaking of Gray Harbor, but does Alexander truly know Byron's feelings? Thorne promotes the hell out of the town any chance he gets.

Apparently Alexander isn't ENTIRELY gone. He turns to give Byron an exasperated look at the 'try not to use your hand'. This would be where a sarcastic remark would go if Alexander ever used sarcasm. Instead, he just stares for a moment, then wobbles his way to the sofa and obediently sits down. Blue Bell looks ecstatic at being picked up by the Suited Guy With Nice Hands, because she makes a prrt sound and rubs her head enthusiastically on his lapel, making sure that lots of bright, white hair get all over the fabric. My human. At least temporarily.

Alexander watches this with a faint smile. "I don't. Not really. You don't share much. Signals are mixed. You could do better than this town. And afford somewhere safer...like the West Bank in the middle of hostilities." One corner of his mouth curves up, but he's not entirely joking. At least you can predict the movements of soldiers. "Speaking of. How's Lilith? Any further harassment?" It's easier to focus on other people's distress than his own.

If Byron notices the cat fur, he doesn't make a big deal about it, scritching at the cat's ear for now as it rubs its head, purposefully, all over his suit jacket. "Your master's laid up in a bad way. Don't go jumping onto his arm, alright? And no tripping him if you can help it." But cat's really can't help himself. For the time being, he'll continue to carry the cat around in the crook of his suit sleeve covered arm.

"We all seem to have unfinished business here. Or else we would've packed up and left a long time ago. But do we? Initially, for a time, yes. Yet, we return for one reason or other and while we could still, just leave, we don't. For now, I figure, the townsfolk deserve better. That's why I'm trying to make Gray Harbor a better place. At least to the mundane eye." After a time, he sets the cat down onto the back of the couch. "Lilith's.. Lilith. There's been no new harassment that I've heard of. And still a bit wary of de la Vega's idea of sending her in wearing a wire to meet with Liu."

Blue Bell settles in with a blissful purr, completely ignoring everything Byron says, but very much enjoying the attention. Her paws reach out for the sleeve of his suit and she kneads contentedly as he walks around. Alexander slumps in the creaky old couch, resting his head on the back of it, although his eyes remain open and watching the businessman and the cat. Luigi gives a wary whistle from his corner cage. "Unfinished business," he murmurs, turning that over in his mind. "Maybe. I wonder, sometime, if the thing that keeps us here really is unfinished. If there's a purpose to it beyond creating a garden for monsters to harvest."

But there's a smile, there, as Byron goes on. "That's good. I'm glad you're trying. I--" he hesitates, his gaze sharpening for a moment on Byron. "The casino. How is it doing? And...wire operations are always dangerous. You're right to be wary. You could follow. Stay in range of her and whoever meets with her. You can't necessarily make them do what you want, but if things go bad, you can distract them and hurt them from afar. Assuming Lilith doesn't just open an artery on them."

After a while, there's a knock on the door of Alexander's house. It hasn't been that long, but it is a small town and even at normal speed, it's a quick jaunt. But something in the way Byron has made a direct request for her to look at the other man... along with the cursing on the phone... it hastens her. Byron hates asking her to heal and generally looks at her in that way of his when he sees her doling mending on others when she decides it's worth the risk. So this truly must be something amiss, especially since Alexander is also stubborn about being healed for much of the same reasons Byron is reluctant to watch Lilith do it.

Sure, there's risks. But at the end of the day, Lilith doesn't ever really think about them after healing someone. It's the good thing she can do with her powers when she's prone otherwise to deal breakage and destruction. She's certainly not worried about consequences right now and while standing outside the door after the knock, she wonders what she's apt to be walking into.

"I like to think that I'm spending my time wisely while I complete this business." Byron says in a lower, thoughtful tone. Once the kitty is released to the couch, he gives it's head another scritch before he moves on, pacing about the small space. "The Casino is as much of a handful, if not more, than owning an apartment building filled with tenants who have lived in the lap of luxury all their lives. There's always concerns and complaints and despite the shoot-out and those potential impending lawsuits.. that are being straightened out at the moment, thank God, things have been going well enough."

The knocking at the door has him checking his phone for the time. When his security wants to speak to him, they message first. Lilith's arrival would fit the time line well enough, so that's who he's expecting to meet up with when he opens the door. "Lily." He greets her with a kiss to the lips, one arm reaching out to take up her hand in his his. "He's in a bad way right now, but all that I want you to do is to take a look at him. If he can heal properly without... you using your Talents, all the better. Otherwise, he's fine to be sent to the hospital as well, if it's bad enough."

Alexander is sitting on the couch, sort of slumped back, his eyes half-lidded but at least still coherent. He actually looks totally okay - until you look at his right arm, which is black and...pulpy in some horrible way, like far too many blood vessels have exploded inside of it. It's swollen and nasty and whenever he shifts or has to try and move it, he has to groan with pain. His face is a bit blotchy and red, like he's been crying, recently. His attention is steady on Byron. "Did you watch the surveillance footage? Of the shootout?" It looks like he might go on about something else, but be jumps at the knock on he door, instead. He IS remembering parts of this conversation, because he reminds himself, "Lilith is coming over. Right." He smiles when she enters. "Hey. Sorry for the trouble. I have soda in the fridge, if you're thirsty."

Wearing little jean short cutoffs and a black simple tank-top with beaded flip flop sandals, Lilith is pretty summer-dressed-down, and her hair is up in a messy twist and clip. She'd probably already been in lounge attire and threw on something quickly before coming. When the door opens to Byron, though, she can't help but smile some through the concern and wondering when he leans for the kiss at her lips and taking hold of hand to guide in.

When Byron explains what he wants her to do, she casts a dubious look at him, mostly because if he wants her to look and not heal it, it might be bad and that's just going to be that in her decision making process. But all the same, she listens and nods compliantly because she hasn't seen what's going on yet. As she's led by hand over to where Alexander is, abruptly, she stops the second she sees his arm. Her eyes cut with squint or wince or maybe even twitch because she can see the 'wrong' on two levels without even trying.

Her head tilts, though, and the blue irises of her standout eyes drift away, into the man and his arm with a murmur to herself, "... sweet hell."

The door opens and Lilith is let in, before Byron shuts it, he makes eye contact with the guy in the SUV; a look of acknowledgement. He'll then send off a quick message to one of the other agents, one of those following Lilith, for some sort of report and to keep watch in case Liu or the other corrupt cops are keeping tabs on them.

Once done, the businessman's suit is covered in fluffy white fur, something which he tries to remedy casually now, but he doesn't look bothered enough to remove the jacket entirely to peel off the fur with tape. "I did watch the surveillance footage." He finally responds on his way back to the couch, though when Clayton reminds him of drinks, he turns to Lilith, "Want a soda? I'll grab one for you." Dark eyes then turn to Clayton, "What about you? Soda?"

Lilith's reaction on first seeing the man's busted arm is what he expected, "This is why I called you over. Is it something that will need medical attention?" He's already on his way to the fridge, "I already offered to take him there."

The first thing Isabella notices once her cherry-red Jeep pulls up in the front of 13 Elm is the fact that there's already a couple of recognizable cars in front of it - including Byron's very distinct chariot. A curious light settles in her green-gold eyes as she kills the engine, easing out of the vehicle and moving in a quick clip towards the front door. She lets herself in, the keys jingling in her hand, the rattle of the doorknob making itself known to those inside of the house when she opens the door.

"Alexander?" she calls out. "Byron?"

"Hello, Lilith," Alexander says, with a sleepy sort of smile. He waves with his good hand. "Hope you're well." Just a bob of the head at 'sweet hell'. "It looks worse than it is," he assures her, possibly untruthfully. "It'll be fine. Just needs some rest." He closes his eyes now, a little. "Soda. Yes. Thank you, Thorne. THat sounds nice. There's soda in the fridge." He frowns when he realizes that Byron has seen all the footage, but doesn't ask any follow up questions, just yet. Because Isabella has arrived. His eyes open again, and she gets another little wave. "Hey. It's okay. I'm okay. Just a Dream. Lilith, tell her I'm okay." Trying to get out ahead of that riiiiight now.

Lilith continues to stare into Alexander's arm with a slow nod of her head to Byron when he offers a good sugary shot of caffeine in a can. When Isabella walks in to call out, though, she looks at the door entry and then looks back to note the laid out man's words to his beloved. She knows what that's like, she tries to hide how bad off she is sometimes so Byron doesn't worry over her so much, they already have so many worries! Same for Alexander and Isabella, so...

After pulling in a breath to try and hide the somewhat APPALLED feeling and look on her face now that Lilith has had a good look at the damages, she goes to settle down next to Alexander on one side, the side with his bad arm, leaving the other side of the man open for Isabella to come sweep to on the couch, "... this is not for the hospital. They won't know what to do and might confuse the damage for something they need to amputate."

GOOD JOB LILITH. Blunt as ever. But...

"But yes. I mean. It's just an arm. And I'm here. You don't have to go anywhere and it will be okay." She leans a little to watch where Byron went for drinks before looking back at the man for permission there on the couch. She never goes into someone's body if they don't want her in there tinkering around and he gets stubborn. But there's a reason she said that (horrible) bit about the hospital possibly mis-treating or mis-understanding his injuries. They're highly unnatural in comprisal and she can't figure out why, herself.

"... what did this? Did it get smashed?"

"Was there something in particular that you wanted me to see?" Byron asks, standing near the open fridge to sift through the items within. Grabbing three cans of soda, when he hears Isabella's voice calling out for them, he reaches for a fourth. Catching the request Alexander gives to Lilith on how to handle this situation with Isabella, what he sees unfold has his gaze returning to Alexander with interest.

"Isabella. What brings you here to Elm?" Did someone call her? Heading over to Alexander first, he hands the guy a soda, though Lilith's prognosis is less than optimistic. "Is it a Veil injury? I'm sure surgeons and doctors handle smashed arms all the time." This is his way of trying to persuade Lilith to not work her magic just yet on the mangled appendage.

Moving to set Lilith's can down somewhere near her, he wanders Isabella's way to pass one off to her as well. It's all rather casual even when they all have that grotesquely flocked hand to look at. "He's going to be okay, Isabella." Pause, "I think." And that means, Lilith using her powers.

The first thing she sees other than her friends in the room is Alexander's arm and the sorry state it's in. Isabella's eyes widen as she hurries over. "What happened?!" she cries, though the rest of the investigator's words catch up to her at least - a Dream. Her lips press into a thin line, before looking up at Lilith and her words, blanching visibly. "Is he going to lose it?" she wonders, visibly worried.

Byron's question has her furrowing her brows at him. "I live here," she points out. Did she miss something? "I was out doing research at the library." His reassurances, however, do soften her features considerably, though the look of her remains tight around the eyes. "Thanks for looking out for him," she murmurs - she's clearly made a few assumptions given that she saw Byron's vehicle outside. She reaches out to take the can that is offered to her, cracks it open and takes a long, thirsty, stress-induced swig.

Alexander's eyes open wide, and he sits the straightest he's managed so far and one hand goes to protectively hover over the bad arm. "No one is going to amputate my arm. I need that." His hand flexes as if he'd like to reach for a weapon to defend it, but Byron has his knife. "...do whatever you think is best, as long as no one tries to cut off any bits from me. I want to keep all my bits." There's a faint smile and a murmured thanks at the soda, and he reaches for it with his good hand. "And no. I didn't want you to see any of it. It wasn't pleasant." This is directed to Byron, about the surveillance footage, but really, doesn't it apply to everything in this situation?

"It was a Dream," he tells Isabella, quietly. "Just a horrible Dream." He hastily reaches up and runs the cold can across his eyes, to let the swelling there go down a bit, then eyes his arm, then the can, then the arm, with sudden speculation. He gingerly lays it on a part of the pulpy, swollen skin, then hisses. "Maybe a cold compress for the swelling," he muses, sounding strained, and rolling the can carefully downward. It clearly hurts. "Isabella stays here most nights," he agrees, quietly, although from the sudden, startled expression, he never really thought of it as 'she has moved in'.

Lilith hasn't healed anyone since Bennie, shortly after the fall of the Doctor or whatever, and Easton's disappearance. Her head shakes quickly at Alexander, and she looks at Isabella then too because maybe she shouldn't have used the word amputation! It's scary, regardless of whether it's needed or not! Her instinct is to touch the man's arm while she makes explanation, and her hand starts to reach, but then she stops, "No cutting off anything, I promise. I can see what they can't. A cold compress would be good, yes. But in the meantime..."

Lilith pulls in a composing breath and notices Alexander isn't saying in any detailed way what the source of the injury was. It's confusing for her, in truth, and it worries her because of that and the way that it felt so differently when she healed Bennie. Was that because she wasn't using Byron like a healing voodoo doll that time? Alexander doesn't like to be touched anyway, so... time to test. Her eyes fill with resolve as she rises back to stand, turned to view Alexander as she goes to take Byron's arm instead for feeling out little by little.

"It is... strange. There is so much bruising, not because your flesh is damaged, but because all of the veins and vessels running it and the muscles inside for bloodflow have... mm. Decayed? There is no poison, but it is much like... you have been pumped with something wicked that entered the blood. But it's not..." Her teeth come together with 'tssst' while trying to explain, "It's not anywhere else in your body, which is strange given how bloodflow works as a system."

No wonder Alexander hurts like shit. His arm really is pulped from the inside, not smashed from the outside. Wetting her lips, the brunette's hands continue to run up and down Byron's arm, as if mapping pre-emptively what she needs to do on Alexander with her lover's body used as comparison and proxy.

Boy does Byron look surprised when Isabella lets him know that she lives here. Here. On Elm. of all places. "Let me know if you need a realtor. I have a couple on hand." That's some backhanded helpfulness right there. Seeing Alexander's reaction to being told that his arm may be amputated, Thorne's quick to act to try and calm the other man down. And to protect the others if things get out of hand. Doing whatever they thought was best was probably going to grab Dark Men attention, Byron thinks.

When things calm down, the suited businessman watches the injured man with care, finding his change in mood rather interesting. "Pleasant? I'm sure we've encountered many less than pleasant situations while living in this shit hole of a town." That is Byron's true feelings on Gray Harbor, apparently.

Lilith reaches for his arm, drawing him forward just as Alexander tries to explain what had happen to him. The brunette healer should be able to tell that her fiance is not 100% on board with this healing, but he won't question it. No, he'll just stand there, allowing her to manipulate his body any way she needs to, and for this, it's the extension of his hand off to the side, so she can along his limb at his musculature and the blood vessels beneath the skin. Mostly, his gaze remain focused on Lilith as she works her magic, though eventually, he'l turn to see if Alexander's arm was looking any better.

Despite herself, Isabella finds herself laughing softly - somewhat tense given her worry, but a grateful look is cast towards her childhood friend. "Oh, B, never change," she says with a quick grin, though worry settles in again as she looks back over where Lilith is healing Alexander. The fact that he doesn't have to lose his arm brings such a profound relief that she nearly wilts where she stands.

Alexander calms right back down when amputation is taken off the table - although the fact that he reacted shows the worry he was trying not to voice about the arm and its rather horrid condition. He looks at it. "It got...infected, I guess you could say? By darkness. Horrible black tendrils that got inside and...invaded." He shudders. "Something wicked works about right," he mutters. He tries not to resist anything she does - and Alexander is fairly bad at resisting attempts at healing, anyway.

Byron gets a look at the offer of the realtor, but Alexander doesn't snap back at him - he's well aware that he lives in a dump. He just sighs. "And just because I've encountered a lot of unpleasant situations, Thorne, doesn't mean I want others to. Especially not people I like." Which apparently includes the businessman. He continues to frown a little at Byron, thoughtful and concerned in equal measure, until he glances at Isabella at her interjection, and his expression softens.

When Lilith exerts her power, the black turns to a deep and mottled purple, and the pulpiness goes down to a more reasonable but still kind of horrible swollen state.

"That actually makes sense when nothing else does..." Lilith murmurs to Alexander's pieced out next bit of information as to what wrought his arm into such an unnaturally painful state. At some point while she has a hold on Byron's arm, her eyes close completely in the moment of exertion and coup de gras finesse that shoots the biological components of Alexander's mangled arm into self-knitting overdrive. When her eyes re-open to gauge the change with actual sight, not just her way of working and seeing, she exhales a hard puff of air, then looks... she looks...

It's odd, because she looks relieved and proud to give him that relief when he was so mashed from the insides, sure, but she's also got a look on her when she glances down at the floor afterwards that's... uncomfortable. In fact, Byron can see goosebumps flash up over her arms, but after another breath, she looks up to assure the man, "I would not have went into his body if I had seen any lingering, infecting shadows. My look beforehand let me know there was nothing to purge or stick to me." She almost adds 'I think' to the end of that sentence, but refrains after turning on a small, reassuring smile for all parties, especially Byron.

Something in Alexander's words nags her, though, "... that must have been a very shadow thick dream." Leaning in against Byron, suddenly, the woman pauses to slowly inquire, "... was it in the Dark?" She can think of exactly one dream where the dark and shadows themselves felt like weapons all on their own.

"So was your arm infected then? But it didn't spread?" Byron is trying to work these things together, all of it making him wary. However, he knows that Lilith doesn't absorb any of the injuries into herself while healing others, so maybe there wasn't anything to worry about. Unless the thing killing the other man's arm had a defense mechanism. So many things go through his mind that he's forced to observe both Alexander and Lilith with care.

"Just let me know if you feel something. Something different. Or strange." Like something fighting back. This he tells to Lilith.

There's no response to Alexander's trying to protect him unpleasant consequences of viewing the garage footage. Instead, he's just focused on the healing process. There's no relaxing once it's done either. Just Lilith healing someone is enough to bring out that cautiousness within him. Has it caught the attention of the Dark Men yet? Would there be repercussions. Reaching hands out to rub against her arms, almost as if he's warming her up, on this Summer day, Byron looks at Clayton curiously, "How badly does it hurt still?" While it didn't look as bad as it was earlier, where amputation might have made sense, it was still somewhat discolored, if just by normal bruising, perhaps.

Feeling Lilith's gentle weight leaning against him, one of his arms extends to drape around her shoulder. "The others? Aidan and Rekani, you said. Should we send out help for them as well?" His chin lifts towards Alexander, "If you're arm came out that badly, would they be suffering as well?"

Her expression drains of further color when Alexander indicates that he had been infected in a Dream, but with Lilith's formidable Spirit powers brought to bear, the worrisome blackening of the investigator's limb reduces to....something slightly worrisome. "Thanks, Lil," Isabella tells her friend softly, reaching out if she allows to squeeze her shoulder gently before moving to take a seat next to Alexander.

It must be a testament to her worry that she doesn't even give him a look about staying in 13 Elm most nights. Instead, she takes a seat next to him and if he allows, reaches out for his uninjured hand to give it a squeeze. Otherwise, she is silent, her gaze intent on his wan profile.

Alexander carefully flexes his arm, and although he hisses under his breath, it'd be clear to Byron, at least, that he's no longer about to pass out from the pain. "Invaded, I would say. More than infected. The filaments. They invaded." He looks up at Lilith's question. "Dark? ...yes. It was very dark. A nothing place, lit by a sickly pale light that I think was only there so that we could see the horrors. And I don't know how they are. Um. The stoner, Rekani, he was walking. I saw him when I got out of my prison - he threw Aidan's prison at the door. I don't know if Aidan was hurt, though. I didn't see that very well." He adds, "There was laughter. And something about feeding on pain and raising something? It's sort of a blur."

He squeezes his injured hand, slowly, then release. "Still hurts like hell," he tells Byron. And it still does look like someone beat that arm with rocks or something equally fun. "But tolerable. I think it'll heal on its own okay. Thank you, Lilith. I'm sorry to have to bother you with it." When Isabella sits down next to him, he favors her with a wide, sunny smile, and happily lets her take his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "It'll be okay."

"You're welcome. Don't... apologize. I've been in that same Dark with Easton and de la Vega. I dreaded there'd be others, but... you never know how much They're toying with us. There was no way to know or prepare others if got were stuck like..." Lilith clasps her hand over Isabella's hand for return squeeze when it comes in, then continues her lean on Byron while speaking to Alexander. Her eyes move up to Byron then, she'd told him about the parting words all sick in the brain before she returned coated in blood. Sighing quietly, she absently turns eyes and her hand to play at Byron's shirt while relating the rest.

There's a subtle, distant cast to Lilith's voice as she speaks, and Alexander might have an idea of why, even without the encompassing details. It was a torture Dream flat out, made to churn bad things inside the victims... or perhaps churn up something else twice as bad in the future, "Easton almost got trapped in a case, but his false leg let him drop free. I was immediately trapped. There was a lot of... death and blood before they broke it somehow and Easton tackled me out." A pause, "I don't... there were three boxes when I was free. My broken one, them outside two others that were calling them there in trade for... I don't know."

"Easton jumped into his box and got locked in before de la Vega could take his option. I don't... know what happened in there, but when I broke the door after explosion sounds, there was blood everywhere and these block things to climb up where he had gotten. He made just enough light to let us see up and find a ladder after the climbing."

Lilith finishes providing what she can because some of the experience was out of her focus or sight in the chaos and confusion and torture. Then she makes a sad little 'heh' noise on now-missing Easton's behalf. He'd gotten them out. Oo-rah.

Once Lilith brings up the Darkness, it's all starting to make sense. Why hadn't he thought of it before, when Alexander first mentioned the individuals drawn into this Dream? A mentalist, a physicalist and a spiritualist. Supposedly, anyway. He doesn't know the others well enough. That felt like so long ago when it happened.

His gaze drifts when Lilith lets Alexander and Isabella in on this story, lost in his own thoughts on what this all could mean, as well as being reminded of everything that she went through. He was angered then as he was not there to protect her. Lilith, Ruiz and Easton... aound the timer he'd snapped at her on a bad day to her going shooting with Easton. Now the guy was gone. In his mind, that grouping wasn't totally random. For Alexander, however, it was.

"It's over now." Byron flatly states for both Lilith and Alexander's benefit. "You both escaped and if someone cares to do a wellness check," Which means that he doesn't plan on being the one to make the call, "They can check on the other two as well. For right now, though? Get your rest. We'll stick around for a bit, keep Bella occupied and do some catching up." If anything, he's just glad that Lilith didn't return with anything that terrible, despite being a bit shell-shocked and that was not something he was planning on comforting Alexander over. Thank god for Isabella.