2020-11-09 - The Unexpected Guest: Afterparty

Byron and Lilith leave the restaurant to go up to the suite they have for the night, knowing they'd be out for drinks late while assessing their visitor Nathan Pickler and his level of involvement with Grant Turner. They did not expect Turner himself to show along, however, and with the tech startup fellow at the table for most of the time, a charade was necessary instead of a questioning and/or showdown that's long overdue with the real estate mogul.

Lilith was clearly upset when Turner brought up the Russian in the moment of mental persuasion laid on him by Byron, so much that Pickler asked if she were ill (pregnant) when returning to the table after the little conversational scene that had part of the restaurant staring. And she had been hesitant about returning too much affection in boastful way while in front of Turner who might be on a hair-trigger of madness. But once Byron has her ignited, that's over, she's pure sensation and affection and drown-into-the-man levels of rising lust. Before they fully even leave the table, she sits with her mouth locked on his, open mouthed and heatedly kissing without shame despite the environs.

It's not a lot different when they're up and moving toward the suite. She doesn't want to talk about what just happened, what it all means, what comes next to manage, none of it. Instead, she's all over him and he's all over her while getting to the elevator, hitting back against the wall with kissing when she hits the button to wait. Once it dings, though, the woman turns playful on a dime with the sheer adrenaline and enthusiasm of knowing what's to come. While he's distracted with her, she goes to dart for the elevator and makes him chase her in before she closes the doors with giggles.

In the elevator, it resumes, and in the hallway outside of their room, Lilith tries to shove Byron back against the wall with a tackle kiss, but gets it spun around on her before an ushering into the door, outsized and outbrawned in a way that she's perfectly fine with. Her shoes are kicked off immediately, and breathlessly, she wonders, "Mask on for mystery woman sex?"

Byron enjoyed getting a rise out of Grant Turner. Watching the man's outburst turn to groveling and then forcing him to witness and observe the affection shared between Thorne and his fiancee. Turner's words were not lost on him, even once the mental manipulation was over and done with, but that doesn't mean that he isn't swept up in this heated passionate exchange that he has going on with Lilith. He really meant what he whispered to her between kisses and shows of public affection. The fact that Turner had to awkwardly fetch his mask at the last minute was just the icing on the cake.

The pair were both masked, leaving an air of mystery to those they run into about just who this veiled couple, their lips locked throughout the journey, hands all over each other like horny teenagers, were. Both of his hands cup at Lilith's face when he has her against the wall beside the elevator, until she escapes him and they proceed inside, just as a masked couple were exiting the car.

Once the door reopens, thankfully, to an empty hall, there's a play for dominance, all while Byron gets the door to open, before the whirlwind of lust spills into the still dark room, the door shutting closed automatically behind them. "Mystery woman..." He murmurs against her lips, "Why can I just imagine you brandishing a whip right about now." Without even bothering to remove his lavishly royal costume just yet, he gives his hands free roam over her the curves of her body, running his palm over her hips and the side of her bosom with his lips pressing in firmly against hers.

After a quick withdraw, he expertly spins her around, like they were dancing, with their arms raised above their heads, once her shoes are kicked off. "Mask on." He finally answers, "And nothing else." Pulling her in close, so that her body molds against his, he breathes in a deep breath and just like at the restaurant, he's lavishing kisses down her throat as those roaming hands look as they may be trying to help her disrobe.

INTERLUDE

Eventually, when all is said and done and Lilith can speak again, she broaches the inevitable subject of their 'problem' they've been putting off, sprawled out breathlessly underneath Byron’s body. "... you're not going to let him leave, are you." It's a statement, not a question, she knows he's probably got security cameras and team watching Turner like a hawk since he walked away at the restaurant. Mostly, it's an observation with an unspoken wondering that comes behind it.

What are we going to do?

At some point their sexual endeavor had been punctuated by a shattering sound as one of the decorative vases in the room bursts into shards.

Breathing hard, Byron’s body is still tingling with the delight of their evening's activity. He slowly turns to regard the damage from where he's now laying on top of her, feeling their hearts racing as his chest smashes down upon hers. He can’t help but laugh about it for a brief moment before she touches on a far more important topic. The vase is mostly forgotten, and for a time, his lean muscled frame continues to press down on her, body sliding down so that his cheek now rests against her the soft pillowing of her breasts.

"Not so easily. No." Obviously, he can't do anything extreme. The man's name was registered to this hotel and he would be amiss. There were a lot of witnesses as well. "Not without making a point."

"It'd be a wasted opportunity if you didn't mindworm him while talking openly, at the very least. I don't think... Pickler has a damn clue about much of anything. He'd be a shitty double agent." It takes Lilith a while to interrupt her hazy pleasure to eventually speak. In the middle of it, she has to stop to breathe, the woman is still still winded to so many degrees with her heart gradually sliding out of pound into something strong, but more rhythmic. Byron can feel and hear it while her damp skin cools from the lustful fire of flushed release after release and exertion.

Her fingertips brush through his sweat-dampened strands of hair while he lies in bodily press atop her, and she likes the weight of it, the bristle of his cheek at rest on the soft, natural pillowing of her breast, "Mm. We at least know he's indisposed for the evening thanks to his blurting habit." There's a thick pause for a moment, and though her lashes are drifting with pleasured laziness and prolonged blinks, her soft murmurs of words are serious as she looks down toward the man, "I had no clue Turner... has shine and powers."

It makes her think about things, maybe little tells here and there, maybe it explains the immediate draw, who knows. Lilith doesn't try to figure any of that out, though. She remembers what Turner said while crushed with emotion and influenced into confessions, "That was quite a show and... table talk, whatever you did to him. I don't know what to do about any of it, though." Instead of explaining what she means, though, she opens the floor for questions to Byron, it's probably easier that way, and simpler, "I'm sure you have questions."

Byron is suspicious of most people and that included Pickler or any of his other business associates. He might make a shitty double agent, but that doesn't mean a guy like Pickler can't be used. Bribed. Paid off. He says nothing of this and simply closes his eyes as he listens to Lilith's heart beating within her chest. "I'd be surprised if he weren't packing up right now due to making a fool of himself in public like that." He's not always one to explain his techniques or what he does, and very often, he has no idea what he'd just done, being unable to experience what his target was going through without attempting a read on the target after the fact. And why would he do that?

"The first push into his mind was filled with despair, to make him feel like the lowest of the low in his patheticness. The second," This is where the mood swing came in, "Was to calm him, put trust in us. We're here to help. And I really want to see this thing with Laurent and Camilla go through." He mentions nothing on Turner's Talents. So far, the man hasn't exhibited having any knowledge or use for those powers. Nuzzling in close, she can feel his fingers trailing over her midsection near her navel.

Did he have questions? He was hesitant to ask. "You don't have to tell me anything unless you want to? I think I have everything I need to pass any judgment."

What Lilith says next would probably not come out nearly as calm and considering most other times. Right now, she's in the sweet spot of pleasured, worn out, and stress relieved. She feels safe, comfortable under the weight of Byron's body atop her own, head briefly turning to consider the glinting pieces of broken decorative vase across the room as she thinks of what to say. She's still soaked in the afterglow, which has benefits when it comes to Lilith handling certain anxieties, tempers, or stubbornness... it's laced through the very tone of her voice, that rare state of gentle, thoughtful calm.

"I feel like some screwy Helen of Troy. I know that... whatever happens to people due to Turner's maneuvering, it isn't my doing or fault. There's a lot of fault, but I can't think of much that's my own... nothing intentional, anyway. I do know this. But it doesn't..." Pausing, the tousled brunette sweeps her fingertips out of Byron's hair to bring two of them feathering down the edge of an earlobe, thinking on how to explain. Eventually, she goes with the simplest way, "It still made me sick to hear. I'm not even entirely sure why he's suddenly involving Camilla, unless he's sure she knows what Laurent is doing..."

Or something else about the woman has had Turner biding his time for setup a while. Also likely.

"The Russian is bad, baby. They'll be tortured or lose a body part... or die after both of those things happen." Lilith pauses, "He told the man that used to be my client. He doesn't give a shit about being on some client list, nothing to blackmail, but his boss gives a lot of shits and... from what I understand..." She puffs out air, "It's not good. Yes, they're horrible people, but I think I'm having a moral dilemma." There's a pause, considering other fallout, "Chantal could get dragged in for just knowing if Laurent wants to throw someone under the bus to try and trade his own damn hide, besides."

Again, none of these things are pleasant to talk about, but hell, she is so soft and cuddly and full of affection right now while talking and laying with Byron, it's actually really impressive. The man apparently did damn good work on her body and state of mind, "We should catch Turner before he leaves, though." Yes, they should, but is she moving? No, she is not, "You need to work your mojo to know whatever we think we need to know. I'm much less likely to accidentally kill him or trigger him like this." There's yet another lazy pause, "I lost track of how many orgasms I had. Did you?"

Yeah, he put in good work.

Byron's not a terribly sympathetic man, despite how he might portray himself to the public eye. Yes, he enjoys doing good and being charitable. Those things make anyone feel good about themselves. Hearing about the Russian, however, and what might happen to both Laurent and Camilla does little to bring out that sympathetic side of him. Not after what he knows about the pair. While Lilith might not say much against Camilla. Fuck Camilla. That's the only thing going through Byron's mind right now. If it were up to him, he'd let Turner follow through with this part of his plan. Let someone else dirty their own hands, right?

He doesn't immediately respond, simply laying there in rest, gaze staring out across the still darkened room. "If Chantal's smart, she'd go into hiding until the dust clears." Something tells him, from what he'd heard over the phone, that she wasn't very bright. Then he's quiet again, basking in the aftermath of what they'd just been through, letting his eyes shut for another long moment as he breathes in her perfume. Byron already had plans to speak to Turner, long before they even made it into the elevator.

Stirring quietly atop her, he turns to press kisses against her soft, damp skin as he pushes himself, using his arms to prop himself up to hover over her. Smiling mischievously in the dark, he leans in to take Lilith's mouth with his own for this last passionate kiss. "I'll handle Turner, you sit tight." As for the orgasms, that grin just lingers across his lips. Did he keep track? There's a possibility that he did. He's a man with a mind for numbers and boasting credential, but he was lost in his own passion as well at the time. "Enough." Moving in close to murmur against her lips, "I can still hear your cries, feel your body trembling beneath mine in my mind." This he punctuates with a quick kiss before he swings his legs over, to crawl out of bed.

In the shower, he's contemplating on what his approach will be, the things that he'll say to Grant Turner and whether or not he will interfere with the other man's plans to dole out punishment. He doesn't take long, however, having already sent Turner a text that he'd like to talk. And he'll meet with the other in fifteen minutes time. Once he's freshened up and changed into something not overtly fancy as the costume he'd worn earlier. Nor does he slip into a suit either.

Thorne had come prepared, having lugged over some of their wardrobe for a change of clothes after the evening's pleasures. So after he's dried off and slipped into some boxers and black slacks, working a belt around his waist. He's standing in front of the mirror back in the main room, looking on his reflection as he does the buttons up on his white shirt, leaving the top two undone in a semi-casual manner. There's no tie or anything fancy and rather than a suit jacket, he goes for a taupe colored blazer. There's this serious cast to his expression, staring at his own reflection, but when he turns to look back on Lilith, it's gone, replaced by a warm smile, "Are you going to be alright, babe? If all goes well, this shouldn't take too long." It was already getting late, but he needed to reach out to Turner before the man was finally packed up to go.

Lilith doesn't press the issue of what Turner has probably already set into motion for others that were once a part of her life, no matter how she says it makes her feel. While the woman can be ruthless and ferocious, or downright callous, she's still composed of the softer pieces that are human. The issue is, she doesn't know what to do about it either way-- you can't really UNDO telling the Russian if he's already told his Unknown Boss who... Lilith always made a point of not asking about. But sometimes the man was in his vodka and the high of pain and well... whoever Boss is... she doesn't want to meet them, she knows enough to know that part.

Mostly, the woman is feeling Byron shifting atop her, the moment when he re-captures her mouth with his own while pushing to hover. It's a pleasant jar back to moments before this conversation when they wouldn't let any of this inside until they'd had a moment to let everything else out. Her stomach flutters low, she can't help but smile at that face, and her hands come up to rub over the man's back and down his arms with 'mmm' of both pleasured and considering noise. He might know he's won and not getting any argument about what might be a long-anticipated man to man conversation, even before she speaks relent... she's not moving to get out of bed and follow him to shower.

"... you know I'm only allowing this because I can't move, right?" Not entirely true, they're on home turf with particular advantages in way of powers and Byron is more than terrifyingly formidable with what he does and how he does it as far as she can tell, even with his skillset outside of her wheelhouse entirely. Lilith is also comfortable and sleepy calm rational enough to THINK about the benefits instead of what could go wrong or what might happen or be said. Turner might respond better without her around entirely, she knows it, especially after the way he was down at the drinks table in public.

That was Byron's mental push, but the mogul is no doubt having a time and mood coping with what happened in a rare moment of public composure loss right in front of the happy couple. Either way... she knows he wants to do this and do it his way, it's Byron's thing and always has been-- make Lilith safe and happy. If someone gets fucked up along the way, so be it, at least he's slick about it and looks good doing it, right? That last passing thought of blind trust and reason might be the sex whispering at her rationale, actually. She likes the noise of the shower and the bed is nice. She almost dozes off before stirring to watch the man dress while hazily laying between covers with drowse.

"As long as the bed doesn't dump me out of it, I'll be fine... probably. Until you take too damn long, don't do that, or text me with any compli-- actually, just avoid complications like blood and dead bodies, okay?" He knows that part, but it's worth saying before she kisses a fingertip and holds it briefly out his way with lazy blow-kiss gesture, "Love you. Good luck. Don't get punched, he's stronger than you might realize. The suits hide it."

For a moment, Lilith finally looks a little frustrated or worried after all that bed-rambling of last second warning and advice. It passes, though, and she smiles at Byron with painstaking trust and wrenching love, "I trust you."

There's a flash of a smile on Byron's face, his eyes inspecting Lilith who was still on the bed, quietly appreciating her beauty there. Returning his gaze to the mirror again, he straightens his lapel, before making his way to the bedside to lean over to smash his lips against Lilith's hot mouth after she'd blown the kiss his way. "Love you, Lil."

Any warmth in his face slowly begins to fade once he steps foot outside of the rented suite. Checking his phone to note Turner's response to his text, rather than heading to the man's room directly, Thorne heads to his office instead. The first thing he does is to do mentally sweep over the office and ensure no one was inside, laying in wait for him. Then he goes immediately to his hidden safe, opening it up and reaching in to grab the firearm he keeps on hand, the serial number already filed off. He opens the chamber to make sure it's loaded, before tucking into away into his waistband, being hidden beneath his blazer.

After an elevator up to one of the penthouses of the casino, his posture stiffens, shoulders squared. Just as at his own office, he does a quick mental sweep of Grant Turner's room to ensure that the man was alone, before making his presence known with a push of the door chime button.

"She's resting after a fantastic evening." Byron says in response to the question. Not taking offense that it was asked, or if he does, it doesn't show on his features. "Why? Was there something that you needed to ask her? I could pass your message along and maybe she'll get back to you before you depart for... Seattle? Miami?" He's just assuming that the man was preparing to depart at some point soon.

Having just come from a similar type of room, the co-owner of the casino doesn't pay the space too much mind, though he will scan the place in the case that Turner threw a tantrum here at some point after Byron's mental manipulation had worn off. "I was curious about some of the things that you brought up earlier at the restaurant." He then consider, "I was also curious as to what brought you here this evening, I mean, besides being the friend that Pickler needed at the moment."

Nothing in the room seems to be amiss. Turner's luggage and clothing must be hung and put away still, he's showing no signs of packing up to leave, surprisingly. It doesn't mean h wasn't tempted to try on the spot after that showing over drinks that he's quite unhappy about, but the man's not an idiot. He wouldn't let Byron leave any of his owned or managed buildings either if the guy showed up unannounced... or announced, actually... not without knowing a thing or two and having a chat. And that's assuming he'd let him leave at all, given certain conditions.

Lilith would NEVER outwardly and vocally compare Byron and Turner, but she knows there's certain ways and similarities about them, even if she tries to ignore them or would deny them flat out. But she knows sometimes, given level field and neutral play terms, the pair of them might damn well think and act alike here and there. Grant hasn't missed this detail in all his scrutiny of the man Lilith has fallen in love with (always loved, really).

Sometimes, he's proud of it, thinking he wormed his way into her, that she's trying to replace something she misses about him and likes Byron because of it. That's his narcissist ego and pride at work. He doesn't really know that Byron's the one who got in first (ever, actually), long before Turner even met Lilith in Miami. However, it also pisses him off because he thinks of Thorne as a poorer shadow cast, why does she NOT want what he can offer her, yet wears all the diamonds this man hands her? It's unthinkable and infuriating to feel inferior because of her, sometimes, and it triggers rages.

He's not had a rager outside of furious and powerful lap swimming in the pool, though. Turner doesn't need property damage added to his list of embarrassments and slips for the night. Everything looks fine. The hand with the glass gestures toward the two arm chairs situated at facing angles across a small round table. It's near the window view where there's a bottle and an empty glass apparently waiting for Byron's company. Instead of immediately starting that way himself, though, he takes a moment to just stare at Thorne, not speaking, just drinking as he takes the man in whole and unhurried with his eyes. They've never been out of public together, or alone together, and Turner looks like he's trying to find something about Byron that makes him so special to Lilith.

There's no telling how much this man has had to drink, he probably holds it very well. After silently taking stock and measure and visual survey, he turns to head the indicated way and finally start to speak on the way to sit, "There's things I'd like to say to her and possibly amend, but I don't think that's on the table either way. I'm admittedly surprised you got her to sit and stay and not come at me like a rabid dog for digging under her side of the fence." He seems disappointed, though, too, in a way. Maybe he wanted to fight with her far more than he wants to have this gentleman's (maybe) conversation.

"Anyway. I'm not sure where I'm headed next. I guess it depends on a few decisions I need to make." Folding one leg in bent prop cross with ankle at a knee, Turner broods more and leans back with his drink, "I wanted to see her. I know Chantal talked to her. Nathan gave me the excuse." He also doesn't bother playing gentleman or host beyond being conversational and mostly compliant-- these answers are probably true, but deliberately careful answers bordering on vague. As far as he's concerned, Byron can make his own damn drink if he wants one, the bottle and glass is right there on the table between them.

Byron does give off this vibe of confidence. Just look at him standing in the middle of your hotel suite, standing tall, a subtle smile or is that a smirk on his lips? He was stylish and put together with that perfect hair.

He also knows that Turner's a dangerous man and one not to underestimate, so despite how casual Byron might have this relaxed air about him in what he says or how he presents him off, he's always attentive, watching the other man from out of the corner of his eyes if he's not looking at the man directly. " Lilith's always been the poised and elegant lady. Does she have sharp edges and thornes? Of course she does," Slow steps bring him towards the window where the table and chairs are set up at. He doesn't seat himself, immediately, and simply watches the darkness of the bay in the evening. "But they only come out if you deserve it." Turning slowly to the other man, he says wearing a placid expression, "We all know that you probably deserve it too."

To this, he smiles in an amused manner, before, finally, settling himself down. He's not a man opposed to pouring his own drink. He's also not the sort to let alcohol or any other substance get to his head when he needs to stay sharp, but a little taste never hurt anyone and it helps give him that illusion of non-chalance. So he pours. "And you got your chance to see her. It's quite telling that you need to finagle your way into running into her by using her friends and associates, rather than being more open." The glass is lifted to his lips for that initial sip.

"Has she always been that way, or is she putting on a show to impress? You didn't know her when I did. She was pissed at the whole world and it was beautiful." Grant Turner loved the rage inside Lilith, even before he knew her name. He knows what it's like, the sheer dissatisfaction with life, sometimes there's little to do about it. The man can say he wants to make her happy and believe that too, but there's a stark difference between him and Byron outside of the likenesses that's pretty clear once he's spoken the wistful sentiment.

One man wants Lilith fulfilled and whole and secure, loved and passionate, he wants to give her real life, not the half-life she had. The other wants all her wounds, her devil may care approach to the world, he wants to foster the passion that comes with her rage and burn it all down with her. It's a distinct and fundamental difference, but when the dysfunction of the latter is put aside, one factor remains between those two desires-- passion. Lilith is a lively woman that does very little half-assed, it's magnetic sometimes, for better or worse.

If Grant says she hated the world when he met her, she probably did. Shaking his head a little, the mogul looks directly at Byron after draining his glass with clink of cubes.

"I might. I've made it clear I'll endure all the bloodletting she likes in trade. She won't talk to me since you. You have men following her everywhere. How soon would you show up if I came here and approached her on my own to talk because she won't take my calls? And exactly how calm would you be about it? I wouldn't be at all, if I were you." Looking off to the side and turning his chiseled profile to Thorne, he's quiet for pause, then wonders, "What curiosities did you have?"

Because smart people don't offer more than the questions asked...

Byron half-turns to casually look Turner's way, brow lifted lightly before they furrow just a touch. Still, there's that arrogant smile on his lips when he resettles back into his seat, glass to his lips, "And she's even more beautiful when she's genuinely happy. But I don't think that's something that you could ever understand." The glass is tilted, allowing him to savor the taste, without intaking more than is necessary.

Licking at his lips, glass lowering, but still held within his hand, he asks. "And /why/ won't she take your calls? Obviously, there's a reason." His shoulders lift into a dismissive shrug, "Maybe if you weren't such an asshole that she'd take your call and guards or not, you might just have a chance to chat with her. If that's what she wants." With a lift of his chin, those dark eyes resettling on Turner again, he states, "How calm would I be if she decided she wanted to talk to someone she trusted? Why should it matter to me?" With a slow shake of his head, he says with a grin, "Don't put any of this on Lilith or myself. This is all you, Turner."

The question is turned on him now. Byron has a few things on his mind. "For one, what is it that you so desperately need to see Lilith for? You worked so hard just to get this close to her." There's obviously more questions to follow, but he'll stick with this one first.

"How long can you keep her happy? You've no doubt seen what she's made of at this point and it's not all sweetness and light. How long til she runs away and stonewalls you too?" Grant tends to think a bit differently than many other men and he may actually think he didn't do much wrong, at least, initially. He knows he fell off the deep end after she was gone and out of his deck to play with, of course, but she did that to him, didn't she? It's right there in the tone of his voice and he has no clue it could possibly be a bigger barb than the questioning worry he intended.

How long until she runs away and stonewalls you too?

She's done it to both of them at different times for very different reasons, it's something they both know firsthand and have felt slighted over. But Turner doesn't try to defend himself or explain why he became such an untrusted factor or what the single catalyst moment was. He's done too much wrong since then to even try, whatever the story actually is. Was it truly that moment that Byron saw on the cord? Did she really not see Turner again after that, knowing they had something going on that might have made him think it was all a dark game?

After uncrossing his leg and leaning forward to pour himself a more moderate sipping amount of scotch with the wits to at least slow down while in present company, Grant eyes Byron and settles back, "I suspect she's told you plenty over time. I don't know if she wants you to know what I know, though." Ironic time to play trustworthy, considering, but he seems to mean it, "I've set certain matters into motion as a gift to Lilith. You weren't always there to protect her and she wouldn't let me..." There's a delicate pause here, "But there's always vengeance for what can't be undone."

"What did you think of Laurent Martin when you ran into him in France?"

At this point in his life, Byron has forgiven Lilith for that unfortunate circumstance she'd left him in. While he was angry about it through much of his late teens, he's come to accept it now, having learned more about her reasoning, even if he still wished that things went differently. They did, however, have that second chance, but the lives they lived as teenagers wasn't entirely their own. For all he knows, it created yet another alternate reality, though one which he'd got the girl early on.

"I'd figure that a man like you would know more about Lilith than you actually do." Byron says giving a side glance Turner's way, head half-turned. "Anyway, that's not important." He could easily come out and let the other man know exactly why he will never 'get the girl'. Thorne had history with her. A lot of history. This is something that Grant Turner will never have.

When Turner brings up that time in Lilith's life where Byron couldn't protect her and if he had the power, he would make sure that it would never happen, the dark-eyed entrepreneur watches the other through an intensely calculating gaze, though he's good at hiding his darker thoughts. "So I've heard you say, regarding Laurent and Camilla." Licking at his lips, he continues to nurse his drink, "Good on them, I say. Laurent?" A pause, "I wouldn't trust him with a ten foot pole, that's what I thought. " He then wonders something aloud, "Are you here to inform Lilith of this gift?"

"Perhaps we're both wrong and we're both seeing what we want to see..." Grant Turner won't admit to not knowing enough about Lilith, but he'll sure extend that over to Byron too so they can share it, whether it's right or not. It's far from a nonsense assumption, though, and possibly true in his case. Of course, he doesn't know about their past and the very bonding details of any of it. He can hire all the help in the world, but unless one of them literally interviews someone like Tobin, there's no real way for him to invade that part of their lives to try and use against them.

Turner doesn't see much out of Byron's expression, but the sheer shift of intensity in those dark eyes mirrors his own in a way, so maybe that's why he stops in turn to gauge the other man back with roughly the same expression and eye intensity. He might be trying to figure out what Byron actually knows, everything, a little, nothing? Did Lilith tell him, did he find out on his own? Turner isn't sure and he remains a bit delicate with the way he's speaking, and though he doesn't outright ask and Thorne doesn't say it, he feels like they both know what's on the table when it comes to vengeance, more or less. It almost makes him appreciate Byron for the likeness of mind.

"I came to tell her, yes. Do you think she will be opposed?" There's a pause, though, "She wasn't supposed to know about Camilla, just Laurent. But... I suppose I did say Camilla's name too, didn't I? Have you met her?"

There was no reason to let Grant Turner in on the fact that Byron's known Lilith in forever, was there? The Gray Harbor native contemplates this idea. What would the harm be? Would it anger him further? Spur on that jealousy? If he dug deeper into their backgrounds and history, was there actually anything that he could use against them? And if so, was the risk worth taking if just to make the man realize that he could never have the type of bond that he and Lilith shared? So many thoughts that he weighs in his mind.

He tipped the man off. Gave him a hint. Perhaps, it's best left that way.

Swirling the content within his glass around, Thorne shakes his head, a quaint smile at his lips. Very quaint. "No, I've not met her." He says of Camilla, "Everything I know about her is from what I'd heard. Or learned." Usually from his own research. "Rather charming," This is said wryly, "In the same way that Laurent is. A little snake in the grass that one." When he's asked whether Lilith would be opposed, though, there's this twinkle in his dark eyes, gaze on Turner, "Does it matter if she does? I mean, you're doing this for her. Hurting the people who more than just deceived her. What is there to oppose?" These are, obviously, his own thoughts and ideas as well, but in a sense, he's hinting to Turner that they are indeed on the same page to see what more the man has to offer.

It's not really out of the wheelhouse to think Byron and Lilith knew each other before, small town and all, but Turner can't and doesn't imagine the scope and depth of what was a very early situational bond that persisted. He's a little drunk (maybe more than a little) and the bitterness of 'not fair' is on his chiseled features like a bad smell or taste there for a moment. He's clearly slighted by this 'one-upsmanship' of Byron in the Lilith department, despite every turn of event or interfering. Maybe that's why his mood goes to gradual paranoia when the other dark-haired man is so open to the idea whether or not the lady wishes or likes it.

He can't really tell if Byron is playing him into saying something he shouldn't say or pissing Lilith off more to the point of straight vengeance... but that easygoing response and charm, while entirely convincing, is settling him perhaps a little more than he's comfortable with. Then again, Turner does expect that Thorne knows how to play some nasty hardball, because hell, it's what he'd do in the man's position. After sitting still for a prolonged, stiff moment, he pours himself yet another drink and settles back again to look at the amber liquid, not company while speaking.

"... so you want to see things move and happen, but you don't want to get your hands dirty. Can't blame you. It'd be hard for me to undo what's done at this point, regardless. Not impossible..." The man pauses and drinks before looking out of the window with hard focus, "But if it just makes her think even less of me, is it a gift?" He's probably actually never stopped to consider this given certain flower deluges to the point of ridiculous annoying, etc. This is a more weighted thing though.

"I said I'd let Chantal walk, meaning she can do business as usual. But she'll still have attention from being the one that pinged Laurent. Think that will settle well with her too?"

While Grant might pay more attention to his drink, perhaps even lost in his thoughts when he speaks rather than focusing on Byron, the Gray Harbor native does the opposite. He may sometimes pretend that he's paying his conversational partner no mind even if he was secretly gauging their expressions and trying to figure out their thoughts, but here, seated half-turned, he allows his dark eyes to stare across the table at Turner, slowly lifting his cup to his lips. He watches when the other refills his own drink, though it's the other man's profile that he's paying closer observation to.

"From what you've told me, things are already in motion." Thorne finally says, "What more is there for me to do to... get my hands dirty?" Only then does he resettle in his chair, allowing his eyes to drift away from the other man finally, even if this is where he's paying attention to Grant most of all, "You, however, I'd expect to prefer to deal with this hands-on. Making it personal. Feeling them suffer under your own powers and strength. Why this route?" He has some ideas on the why, but he decided to ask anyway. Licking at his lips, eyes staring out at the darkened bay, "This act, this gift, isn't what makes her think less of you." Slowly, he watches the other man from out of the corner of his eyes. Obviously, there are other reasons, but he doesn't come out and say that.

"Who would care that Laurent was out of the picture? The men who he got dirt on, surely wouldn't. This Chantal probably wouldn't have too difficult a time playing dumb. And oblivious."

"Fair point, again. No one certainly should care, but ah. I don't blame you for taking the window of convenience at all. Whatever happens from this point happens, as it stands. All I had to do was tell a story. Rather brilliantly out of my hands. I know what I want to do, but I have my own reasons. I could ask you the same question, couldn't I?" Turner is admittedly perfectly clean because all he did was literally tell a story, a very dangerous story to very dangerous men. From there, it really is out of his hands unless he knows how to interfere in some manner. Given his hard, focused expression as he continues to look out of the window, he may or may not have a few things he's mulling on about it.

However, despite his rather direct answer that's really pretty wise and in his own best interests, there's something about Byron's question on why he's not being more hands on. The man's teeth set and grind to make twitch in Turner's jaw while his face is turned aside. Suddenly, he pushes up and starts to pace and gesture at Thorne with his glass sloshing. It's not an easy stride or saunter as it might be normally in cool confidence right now, the way he's moving. Lilith warned that he was strong and Byron has once done a read on his rage and triggered madness when he's in a state, it came from the red dress. The man is aggressive when composure can't do him any more tricks of suavity.

It's like watching a caged panther in a state of agitation on the other side of the glass, but the only glass he's imposing is on himself. There's nothing saying that metaphorical glass of final control the man has won't break, though, "I think you should answer that question. Don't you want to? Did you know and do nothing? Is this why I'm cleaning up and restraining myself from killing... because you have NO fucking ability or balls to handle it yourself? At least I'm doing something."

The glass sloshes again as he rants and glowers at Byron occasionally, smoldering with bubble up of rage the other part of the while as he moves, "You have no clue, no CLUE what it's like. Or you know what, maybe you do, my good man, maybe you do. The way she gets in, drives you FUCKING mad with want, even when she's snapping like a she-demon. Did she hook you like that? Did she make you BURN to chase her just to run into a FUCKING WALL? But here's the thing, Thorne..."

Suddenly, Grant stops pacing to stare daggers and fire at the other man, "She makes me feel. You don't know what that is for me. I'll wait and fight as long as it takes."

Honestly, with the way the man goes from iron and silk and wits to relatively none at all, this is probably evident. But it makes a little sense that he would covet it, especially if the whole glimmer thing pushed it along like a bit of a magnet to make it feel a little like fate. Byron's might remember a taste mentally in a way that's hard to explain as a non-psychologist, but the way he sensed it might be explained like this: Turner is a malignant narcissist, which is nastier and more capable of exceeding violence and urge emotions mixed with a whole lot of ego and sociopathy. It's possible he just doesn't feel much for other people, so he's gotten obsessed with what makes him feel, which in this case is Lilith.

"First of all," Byron pipes up between sips of cognac, "This aggressive violence? That's /your/ thing. That's the only reason why I'd asked." This is his response to the other man thinking that they are both the same, thus their approach to this matter of punishing those who used and abused her, would be different. For Byron, he was not the same as Grant, even if he would still be the type to take matters into his own hands if necessary. He also has the wisdom to know when a buffer between any crime and himself is also very beneficial. "You enjoy hurting people. You enjoy the physical pain. So I figured, you'd enjoy this." This is then followed by a rather dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "Not that this way isn't smart, of course. I was just curious."

Seeing that switch flick from Turner's calm disposition to something more ranting and raving, Byron's not afraid to give the man his full attention, though he, himself, keeps to his usual reserved demeanor, ignoring the heat building within the room. He gives no reply to the question of whether the She-demon had her clutches in him, enough to drive him mad. That was long ago and not something that the man will up and admit to this lunatic.

He'll let the man go on in his anger, but in the end, Byron asks from where he remains seated, chin lifted and glass still in hand. "What is it that you want to feel? Just think hard about it. What do you want?" Even as he says this, the dark-eyed entrepreneur attempts to invade Turner's mind with a sharp dose of something light, giddy almost. Enough to make a man feel young, like a child again where the future seemed bright.

"I want..." Turner has to stop and think about it. He has a lot of things, but there's very particular things that he wants and they aren't all holding-hands, so to speak-- it's probably another sign of his instability given what Byron has hit him with. Mixed with the drink and frayed edges he has from this whole encounter at the casino during the trip, the surge of lightness and giddiness to look forward has him spilling bluntly in the way children have, no filtering. But before he starts talking, he breathes out a sudden laugh that's a wee bit eerie considering he was just mid-accusational rage and rant.

Leaning over the back of the chair he was sitting in with drape of arms, Turner drains the glass and lets it dangle from a hand while looking at Byron, dark eyes a bit overbright. It's almost like he's taken an opium hit, the way he feels in these confessings, "I want her to smile at me the way she probably smiles at you. She did it one night, I wasn't sure she had it in her, she never really did in a way that counted. But our night, she smiled three times in a way that lit her up. It was like watching... a butterfly try to come out to fly." He sighs wistfully here, and really this is sweet and dreamy almost, like he's honestly thinking he has a chance to see or have that again. Fool's hope and pride... right to her fiance.

But at some point, there's things in there that are so much darker, even though his tone is just as much softened as it is when he's speaking true want, "I want to be better for her, I could be if she'd let me. I want her to remember what she did to me and feel guilt. I want to feel her body with me and I want to fuck all the pain into the ground and start over. I want to kill everyone that's hurt her and I want to kill you too for making her happy... for catching the butterfly. I want to be the one to have her, no one else will matter when I do. And if I can't have her in life, we'll have each other in death, I want her."

At this point, he seriously believes it's going to happen one way or the other and is looking forward to it. He's practically grinning at Byron by the time he's finished expressing, "I want everything I want. I'm the fucking king."

Lilith might be glad she's not in the room if she saw and heard that level of creepshow all the way to romantic murder suicide to ensure success in the end.

Byron expected a mood shift due to using his own powers to try and make this man feel something. In truth, he enjoys toying with people's emotions, especially assholes like this, but by making Grant Turner feel this youthful bliss, the man does just as Byron had hoped he would. Spill things out due to the excitement of it all, being nurtured by that good and positive feeling that the observant dark-haired man had made the psychotic feel.

It really is a concerning rant, one which Thorne listens to between quiet sips from his glass. Even when Turner can't help but blurt out that he wants to kill Byron as well. And then, especially when the man announces that if he can't have Lilith in life, then he'll have her in death. There's so many things that Byron would love to do to Grant right now. He doesn't touch upon the murder-suicide thing, even if that's at the forefront of his mind now. Rather, he focuses on something else.

"What did you say? What story did you spin that would seal Laurent and Camilla's fates?" He's using the other man's high to try and gauge more information out of him. "I mean, wasn't the money simply enough for them? That you had to tell tales?"

"I didn't have to say anything that wasn't already true. Laurent was selling high profile client kink information as blackmail material, privacy they paid quite dearly for. He's been doing it a long time. I know this because he sells it to me. Spiders live in webs, it's very easy to cut everything they spin all apart when you're a bigger predator. Of course..." Turner pushes up into upright stand to walk around the chair and put his glass down on the table. Then he finally sits again, no longer a pacing threat, openness of giddiness about what he wants and the pride in what he's done spilling through.

Arms on the armrest, the man drops his head back against the chair cushioning to look at the ceiling, a bit dizzy from drink and the sudden drop and lightness he's still feeling given Byron's powers and intensity of mind-workings, "I had no reason to interrupt this, I liked Laurent, he spoke a language I understood. Camilla is a fucking bitch and thinks she's Queen of Miami. She might as well be, as much dirt as she has, and Laurent is her best friend, has been for years. She takes percentage premiums for privacy and she takes a cut of the money Laurent makes selling away that privacy."

"I've been sitting on revenge for her for a long time after she bragged about drugging Lilith before I knew her, telling me how sweet straight and stubborn pussy is. I want that too, but I don't suppose you'll be sharing." Turner is clearly still being painstakingly honest, a smile helplessly twitching up his lips as he takes equal delight in trying to piss Byron off, weirdly amicable about it, "I wasn't sure if she was lying to get under my skin and test me, Lilith never confirmed it. And she is hard to snare, she slips her way out of everything, knows a lot of people even I can't get around as a working team. But then I ran into Chantal... and she had a bone with Laurent, no clue what that's about. I tried to bribe her aboard, she snaked out on Laurent and told me what she heard from Lilith and I knew after I talked to him it was true."

The man's head pulls back up to look at Byron then, "Do you know about the Russian?"

This whole dominatrix thing, including any sort of sex kink, is still something that Byron finds strange. He knows that many a man does have their kink, but it amuses him to know that there are many high profile men in power who frequent these places as well. It's not something that he'd ever thought of doing, especially not paying for it. And more importantly, where his reputation was concerned. But, really, he had no need for that sort of outlet, personally. Or else he would have visited one of this places in L.A. or anywhere else that he'd visited with his newfound wealthy group of friends.

Tilting his glass to one side, then the other, Byron says with lifted brows, "I'm sure that if you looked hard enough, you'll find a decent amount of straight and stubborn pussy as well. No sharing required." There's a return smile to the other man when Thorne says this. It's not said rudely and there's some humor found in his tone. Obviously, he makes no mention of anything Camilla may have said at this time.

As he already knew about Laurent, even that doesn't get a rise out of him. Instead, he settles in to sip from his glass, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "That depends," Byron then says, his gaze lifting to look on Turner now, "On what you mean by 'know'. I've heard of him and with a name like the Russian, that comes with great expectations." A pause, "How did you come across the Russian?"

"His boss is one of my... colleagues, has been for a long while. It's his muscle and hit. It's the one he'll be protecting by silencing and punishing those that stole hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of privacy premium fees to break verbal contract. Of course, that's why Lilith will be worried about Chantal. Soft for that one. I don't really get it, but I can at least say what you see is what you generally get with her, and with all the duality and snakes in our darling's beds over the years, she probably found it... nice."

Grant Turner is still singing like a bird, but really, it's a matter of what Byron can or would or should do with any of this in the longer run, either for Lilith's sake or... understanding how to eventually tip some kind of odds with vengeance of his own. That said, he's kind of slowing down and being careful when it comes to names with who he's mentioning.

"The Russian was Lilith's client. I tried to hire him to follow her when she left, give her a little scare, he wouldn't do it for any amount. Said he had his reasons and that at the end of the day, he works for ONE man. So I hired someone else. Had efficiency and balls in him until he got soft when I really needed him to bring her so we could amend and talk." Grant might be losing a little amicability because he's suddenly breathing slow and hard in through his nose, "I'll find the man for playing antelope and fleeing. Bloody hard to find good help these days."

Collins. He has to be talking about Collins.

After exhaling his creep of agitation away, Turner sits up straighter and leans forward with his forearms against his legs to look at Byron, "Why are you here, Thorne? What's your game if we aren't going to punch it out right now? I want to see Lilith."

Byron makes a mental note of the first thing Grant says about the Russian's boss. A colleague? The rest regarding the Russian, himself, he has to ask, "The Russian is working alone on this? Or is his boss or anyone else in his organization involved?" Finishing up the content in his glass, he sets the empty vessel down, letting his arm rest on the table, "I mean, I'm sure whatever dirt a kink service has on him, he wouldn't want that getting out." Rather than being nosy, he sounds more amused than anything. Byron figures this was the reason why he Turner was able to get the Russian to do this for him. If he only worked for one man. Betrayal? And his reputation was at stake... which is why the casino owner finds it entertaining to know that so many put their trust in, well, he won't say whores, but in many situations, that is the case.

Ah yes, he knows about Collins. A man who had little reason to trust when the P.I. reached out to him that last time. Really, Byron has reason to distrust most people.

"Well, Turner, as a guest of the Grand Olympic, I wanted to make sure that everything was okay with you after... Sitka." And the man's outburst. He even scoots forward in his seat as if preparing to stand, " "You know that you may have had that chance once, Turner." He says of Lilith, whether there's any truth in this or not, "If you only knew how to treat a woman. Unfortunately, that door has closed. At least where Lilith is concerned." Dark eyes lift to meet with Grant's gaze. "Lesson learned, I suppose."

It's only then that he rises to stand, leaving his blazer unbuttoned , giving him a more casual look. "Good luck with your endeavors. I'm sure that our paths are bound to cross again." He'll wait to see if anything he'd said gets a rise out of the Turner. "Thanks for the drink."

He gave the man a high, now he plans to bring the guy down low in parting, forcing that same pathetic emotion into the other man, similar to what was done earlier that evening, but this time something far more dark, depressive. Worthless. He's not sure what a person experiences when they can't feel. Is it some dissatisfaction with their lives? Or is it simple emptiness? Well Byron's trying to fill that void with more of that sadness and despair. Nothing will turn out right. It's the complete opposite of what he'd allow the man to feel just moments ago.

"I don't know if he's yet told his boss or is just in the hierarchy to decide to handle it himself without fussing the Boss as part of his job description. One of those details makes it harder to call off than another, possibly. But I might have a way, Laurent and Camilla are on holiday at the moment, the guy won't passport travel to make a hit. That or he's illegal, I'm not sure which. Chantal, however, is still in Miami. Unsure if he knows yet that she's... in the know. Only a matter of time, though."

Looking a little unconvinced about the 'check in' or possibly wanting a good ol' punchout more than he's letting on, high remaining or not, Turner shrugs a little, but his brows knit downward some, "You know, Thorne.. Lilith will try and run to save her if... you know how she is. That woman might make this complicated if she wants to get into whatever feelings she has about... anything. You'd know better than I when it comes to how she's prone to react over this. Only thing she's got going on her behalf anymore down there is the single fact that the Russian seems to like her and respect her and might not whack her for interfering when and if she does."

Watching Thorne rise, Turner leans forward to pour himself another drink, "But you keep her in that loverboy bubble of close safety, don't you? Better hope she doesn't slip the leash with a wild hair." Because Grant will no doubt know about it too, "Your due diligence for your guests is quite efficient. I'm sure you know the door is right where you left it when you came in. Til next time, Thorne."

They both know one day, there'll be a next time. Turner has gone dead silent when the weight of despair crashes into him on Byron's way out with mental and emotional tampering. He also is gripping the hell out of his glass, but waiting with tremble for the other man to leave. In the morning, Pickler practically has to drag the man out drop dead drunk to get them back on a private jet back to Seattle. Staying up all night drinking and not sobering to put on the right face in the morning has literally never happened to the man until his visit onto Byron Thorne's personal stomping ground.

Stepping out of Turner's room, Byron shuts the door behind him, his gaze immediately lifting to view to the hidden security camera in one corner of the wall. Perhaps, it's some sort of signal to the security guard working the surveillance monitors for the evening. Checking his watch, his other hand digs into his pocket for his phone. It seems that his conversation with the visiting mogul was being recorded. Unlocking access to the app with his thumbprint, he turns the recording, before dialing up Lilith's number, his phone lifted to his ear. "Hey babe. Thought I'd call, rather than text a message to let you know that it's done and I'll be heading up shortly."

He starts on his way to the elevator as he continues to speak, "Want me to pick something up for dessert? Or a late night snack?" He'll spend some of that time listening to the play back before returning to the room, giving him the opportunity to possibly edit the recording if necessary. Though he promised Lilith that there would be no secrets, that's the main reason why he's considering letting her hear the conversation in full.

Lilith showered while Byron was gone after laying and fretting and admittedly dozing a little more before getting up to wash and kill time. She let him go alone, she doesn't get to take it back, even though she's having some gradual second thoughts as time and anxiety increases. When the phone rings on the man's way back up, she's sprawled on her back with semi-blowdried damp hair and a towel body wrap atop the bed. The noise and buzz scares her because she was staring at the ceiling so hard with thought on what to do about anything going on, if anything at all.

She'll see what Byron has to say. And he's calling now. When she answers, she sits up and scoots against the pillows and headboard to talk, head shaking quick even though he can't see it, "No... you had me for dessert and I'm still sated." Also a little too nervy to eat, sometimes she's voracious after sexathons, so that might be a little telling she's got anxiety despite leftover calm from him wearing her down and making assurances to handle or suss through matters with Turner while he's on site, "You aren't having security clean up a body are you? Actually, you know what, I'll just see you when you get up here to brief me."

When he gets back to the room, she's sitting the same way in her towel and tousled washed dark hair is leaned back against the padded headboard where she sits against pillows, watching for the door.

It was getting chilly, so rather than picking up food to eat, Byron shows up with a pair of large hot cocoa with rum instead, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There's nothing to worry about. No bodies. No real altercation. We just had a discussion. Man to man." Tossing his keys into the tray, he proceeds into the large room. Carrying the tray of drinks over to the bed, he settles down at the edge, half-turning to allow Lilith to grab her hot cocoa. "Here, thought we could use something sweet to help us sleep."

He then sets the tray down next to him, opposite of where Lilith is so that it's out of the way. Removing his watch, he sets this on the nightstand, "I recorded the conversation. Thought you might like to hear it. He was in quite the mood as you'll notice." Reaching for his phone, he makes sure to lean in for a greeting kiss, enjoying this moment of closeness. There's this fondness seen in his eyes and he knows that their conversation had turned ugly at some point.

"Just a warning. Turner's a psychopath, so some of what he might say... you'll see." Byron gives her that warning. Rising as he slips out of his blazer, he tosses it onto the chair beside the bed, before sitting back down again and scooting closer to the woman. He didn't edit a thing, but he'll be there for her when Turner starts sounding unhinged. "I did what I could to get him to talk." There's a thoughtful pause, "Do you know who the Russian works for? Out of curiosity. I can probably narrow things down or have a P.I. check into it." Magnolia or Alexander, so many choices...

Lilith takes the cocoa to hold during her greeting kiss and immediately tips the cup to stick her tongue into the melting marshmallow and cream on the top, despite her claim that she didn't want anything. She just didn't know she wanted this, he's on top of things. Sniffing a little and realizing it has rum in it, she takes a drink that gives her a bit of a sweet cream mustache while Byron settles on the bed with explaining on what went down. She scoots so he doesn't have to crawl over her for nestling in lean against her side on the mattress and bedding, then turns her face to kiss her mess off for him to taste at her lips, "Yeah. He gets..."

Whatever, they've both seen how he gets at different times and in different ways with each of them, she's busy kissing and largely unconcerned by any warning about creep factor or disturbance possibility. But eventually she draws back to consider his other question while he gets the phone ready for playback, brows knit down, tone slow and wary, "Uh. No. I didn't want to know so I never looked into it. But I... have some guesses and ways to narrow it down. Why are we looking into his boss?"

She wonders that, but holds it once the conversation is played back, attention turning there as it starts. Sipping from her cocoa and rum while nestled in towel at Byron's side, she listens, seeming pretty neutral and attentively thoughtful initially. She smells like crisp, clean hotel soap instead of her usual subtle flowery wash, but she's clearly done the lotion routine thing that silkens her skin and makes her smell like herself too, "He's drinking, isn't he?" She picks up on that pretty quickly just from hearing the way the man is talking before he swaps to agitation and ranting.

It makes her eyes slide aside to consider Byron with mild after-concern, Turner is incredibly violent and explosive and aggressive when he loses wits and control, which is made worse by drinking. Then she hears the tone change as Byron had new pushed emotion in him to make him keep talking and answering questions. And some of those answers... they make her look hard at his phone and hand instead of him now, anywhere but him now. The cocoa, her toes, her knees, the towel edge on her thigh and the hotel signature trim embroidery. Her silence moves from calm thought and attentiveness to thick and broody, breathing picking up subtle at a few points.

She can't avoid or hide the goosebumps that are on her skin by the time the recording is done, "... how did you sit in there with that and not lunge for him?"

Byron helps to clear some of the whipped cream from off of Lilith's lips with that kiss, licking away any transfer that may have occurred during the sensual exchange. He's yet to reach for his own cup after he'd set it and the carton it came in down next to him. They just came out of a hot sexual escapade right before he met up with Turner. He has to wonder what the other man would've done if he knew that detail. No matter, his motivation for visiting Turner was to learn more about what the guy had planned for Lilith. For Laurent and Camilla. For everything. With the information that spilled so freely from Turner, he got what he needed.

"The Russian only works for one man. Turner couldn't even pay..." He starts to say, remembering just where this conversation would be going. "Turner can't buy him. The Russian takes orders from his boss and his boss alone. All I know is the this boss is a colleague of Turner's, so it might be something to look into in case we need to use him rein his employee in." Turning to reach for his own drink now, he pops the lid open, allowing Lilith this time to listen to the conversation. He recalls every thing that's about to be said, his memory being jogged by the recording itself.

Silently sipping at his drink, enjoying the warmth that both the hot cocoa and the rum brings him, he'll respond to her questions, though quieting enough as not to speak over what is being said. "He was drinking some, yes. Before my arrival. And during it." There was no real reason to hide this next fact which he brings up, "I may have had a hand in how candidly open he's speaking now," He makes a light gesture with the hand holding the drink, before lifting it to his lips, "Making him drop his guard some." He then takes a sip.

And boy did Grant Turner drop his guard. He moves from maniacal boasting and admittance of wanting to kill various people to both protect and keep Lilith for himself. Byron doesn't focus his full attention on Lilith at that moment, though he does cock his head to the side to keep her partially in view. Leaning to grab the blanket, he pulls it forward to drape over Lilith, covering not only her painted toenails but her knees, her legs, all the way up to her torso for warmth.

"I knew that it wouldn't do me any good if I acted rashly in that situation. Though, in truth, by then it wouldn't have mattered too much." He takes another warming sip from his cup, "I left him with a departing gift as consolation. The town's air really wreaks havoc on his emotions." Shifting on the bed, turning more fully towards her now, he sets his free hand on her blanket covered knee, "You okay? I believe he may be leaving in the morning. And with Camilla and Laurent out of the country, there's some time if you want to do anything about it. I hope your friend is playing smart right now though." He means Chantal.

Lilith listens to Byron explain his ideas and thought processes on what he's learned from Grant Turner and as the blanket comes up over her, she pulls at the towel to flick it away and nestle in under it more, against the man and his warmth too. She's cold inside, not outside, the room is perfectly temperate. She has her hot cocoa in hand too and holds in close to sip and nurse with brows down hard in knitting frown of bother and thought, "She... has time this way, yeah. I think, at least. I mean, maybe she's going to leave for holidays too, she has family in Mississippi she visits."

Her eyes look around to see where her phone ended up on the bed and she looks inclined to reach for it before she stills herself and realizes what time it is in Miami right now, anyway. After a noise of frustration in her throat, she sips from the cocoa and rum yet again before leaning to put it aside so she can turn with laying wrap of arms against Byron and the pillows, snug as a bug in a rug despite the context of the conversation they're having and... things she must be feeling, in whatever variety, "I'll call her tomorrow and see and... I don't know. I told her it was dangerous, she knew it was, but she's not... like them."

Working her tongue against the point of a canine then, her eyes shift up Byron's body to look at his dark eyes, clearly wary with slow speaking, "The Russian can't be called off unless his Boss calls him off, that's that. I know enough, and Grant has a point, his Boss may not even know and it's just being handled as these things tend to be." Lilith knits her brows further, "I've heard things about the Boss. The rumor among the inside is... sometimes girls 'go home' and quit working in the business after him or disappear completely, which... I don't know how true that is. I don't even fully know who he was a client of in the past, but there are..."

She thinks of how to explain, "Some men have far darker or screwier kinks than pain. Some are just embarrassing and weird, but there's a small handful that..." Lilith's head shakes, "Wasn't my business and it's mostly rumor. Camilla did have... non-public offerings to cater to non-mainstream tastes and she's... hell, I wouldn't put her past selling girls into snuff films, honestly, if they pissed her off or there was enough money. But I don't know that's what he's into, it's just..."

Lilith switches to facts because she doesn't like where the speculation is going, deep into a city's Underworld of pleasures that even she hadn't been exposed to on the darker side, "I know that he spends time in New York and LA. I know he... has the Russian who... has made vodka comments on what he's done to other men." She pauses, "I know that he... is probably is some kind of mob boss or something like it, or at least related somehow, but I don't know if he's even Russian like his man. And I know he wants to get into politics... which means he really doesn't want whatever it is he's doing with girls public. The Russian's funding for me came from him but I only took cash, so it's nothing traceable."

After explaining all that, Lilith kisses at Byron's chest, voice softening with guilt and hurt and shame, "I'm sorry. This was all supposed to be behind me, but... I don't know what I think now that it's all hitting me with memories of... I don't know what they deserve, Byron. I don't know how much I'm at fault too, I threw myself under the bus with them. But I know what Chantal doesn't deserve." Settling her cheek back in against him, she murmurs, "I love you."

"Mississippi? I was thinking farther than that." Byron says after another dip into his cup. "Then again, I don't know how this Russian operates or whether he outsources his hits to his goons beneath him. So I can't say that I know how long his reach stretches to." Sensing Lilith's anxiety over her friend, the man spots her phone, his gaze following hers when she was frantically looking for it. She might not reach for it, but he does, leaning over her and across the way to grab ahold of it. Once in his grasp, he doesn't offer it to her, but sets it on the night stand next to his own phone now.

"I can text her for you, to let her know that you'll be contacting her in the morning if you like." He'd be doing that through her phone, "But yes, I'm sure that she'll be fine tomorrow. Turner, as you heard, had plans of removing her from this order, but he's dragging his feet about it, which just means that he's an asshole." Or maybe that he has no power over the Russian after all. Speaking of the Russian... "Right. So we either find a way to call it off with the Russian or find a way get his boss to prevent it from happening." Staring idly at the pair of phones on the side table, he adds, "Sometimes money talks. Other times favors. Business opportunities." His gaze slowly drifts to look on Lilith once more, "You name it."

Learning about some of what is said of the Russian's boss, what sticks in Byron's mind is that this was a possible mob boss, cartel leader or someone along those lines who spent time in L.A. and New York. The former was a place that he spent several years at for school, as well as did some of Monaghan's dirty work outside of Gray Harbor, the latter was a place that he frequented often enough with his jet setting friends from college. Hearing about this man's possibly dark and illegally violent kinks is another matter. Despite being both surprised and amused at some men's weird kinks, especially men liking a more submissive role, something which he's not about to judge after his own experience with Lilith, he has known a few who might be so rich and powerful that they feel entitled to everything. Byron /did/ hang out with that sort of crowd that he had to network with to make a name for himself. He won't say that none of the people he's ever been friends or acquaintances with would never be into sexual slavery or, possibly, snuff (these were rich boys), but he has doubts that any of them would actually take it this far. But who knows, right? He's attended wild and depraved parties with some of them in the past after all.

"That's the problem with men who hold a lot of power and money," He holds more of one thing than the other, but even his net worth pales in comparison to many of the young heirs and business professionals that he'd befriended over the years. "They let their power go to their heads and believe they are entitled to anything and everything. I mean, those similar to Turner in background." Wrapping an arm around the dark-haired woman when she settles in closely against him, Byron first kisses her forehead, then places another at her crown amidst her thick locks. "We'll find a way." It bothers him, a little, that to get to some of these men, it would mean leaving Gray Harbor, a place where his powers are most heightened. Often times, outside of the town, as far as he knows, those powers take a backseat so much that it's as if he lost them completely, due to not recall ever having them at all. "Let's get some rest and see what our next step will be."

Leaning forward, he places his cooling cup of cocoa next to their phones, allowing him to wrap her up completely in his arms as he nuzzles his lips against the top of her head some more, "For now... did the rum at least help to set your mind at ease? If not that, then your body at least?" He still probably needed to get undressed for bed, or at least to change into something more comfortable for the evening if sleep is not an option.

"Yeah. We're pretty much superheroes when we're together." Lilith says to Byron with agreement after listening and nuzzling into the kisses placed on her with dote. It's less firm and assured than it could be when it comes to tone, "Can't do anything about it right now, either way. So mm. Thank you for rum. I do feel a little warm and fuzzy with chocolate and booze and man next to me."

And really, for as tense as subject matter has been, her body has remained pretty relaxed against Byron instead of wrought with fear and tension, probably lingering effect of them having a time to outlet some of the agitation prior. Lilith is just like that-- once she's wound up or on fire, it has to come out of her in some way, and they've found ways to take pleasure out of that facet of her nature where they can. Her mind must be racing, though, because she rarely ever asks it of him, what she says next with lift of her blue eyes.

"Will you make me calm enough to fall asleep?"

Stroking down the length of her dark hair, Byron listens to Lilith's voice with his chin resting atop her head. He eyes their pair of phones again. Later tonight, he might send Chantal that message. He knows Lilith's lock code. His mind also ponders further on both the Russian and his boss. Grant Turner's fate is one of the last things on his mind. He hoped that he was able to make the man feel something so soul crushingly pathetic that, who knows, maybe one day the headlines will read about some wealthy billionaire jumping to his death from his penthouse office.

Lilith's asking for his aid in calming her nerves does come as a surprise. It's not something that anyone usually asks for, because rather than it being a drug that flows through one's blood stream, it's tampering with a person's mind. Burying a kiss into her hair again, he nods, "I'll try."

Leaning forward to help her lay back against the pillow, he resettles himself in so that his back presses against the padded headboard, nestled in close to her. Torso turning, he dims the lamplight, before the hand nearest her strokes against Lilith's hair once more. It's during this time that he reaches into her mind with a powerful wave of both contented bliss to go with sleepiness. It's not pure exhaustion that he wants to pump into her, but something gentle and peaceful to ease her mind. Bending forward he kisses at her forehead again, before trailing his lips down to meet hers. " Relax, princess. I'll be right here for you."

Only once she falls asleep will he send out that text before taking the brief moment to undress and snuggle up against her. Unlike with Lilith though, there's nothing to ease his mind, his own thoughts continuing to race. But this was something that he's grown used to by now as he lay against his own pillow.

Lilith makes a noise that's wordless but full of words at the same time with hum against Byron's lips as the bidden calm and peace of pushed emotion floods her mind and body by proxy. For a moment as he's leaned down to kiss her, the woman's arm comes up in arc to drag fingers down through the short hair down to his collar in caress at the neck. Then she exhales a gusty sigh of contentment, he can hear it rolling off of her like she's exhaling a whole storm. Her next breath is freer and deeper... then gradually deeper and deeper still.

He'd already worn down her body, with the caress onto her mind too, she's soon out like a light and probably damn thankful for it.