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[divinecordelia]

I closed the door quietly and made my way back to the kitchen, my eyes wandering over the jar of peanut butter and jelly on the counter, glass of milk half full. Half empty, however you see it, to me? It's a glass of wasted milk that we really probably can't afford to waste. I wondered where the hell Angel was, I mean sure Faith and I kinda got

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[stoic_angel_]

I drove back to the hotel, wondering what had happened while I was gone. I didn't think that Faith had hurt Cordelia or anything, but I wondered if they had gone out, if the demon had not truly been dead (although after seeing Faith, there was little doubt that it was dead), or even if they were awake

[divinecordelia]

I listened to him talk about how he took Wesley back to the hospital. Better drugs? Okay who gave him drugs because he wasn't so friendly with Wesley before, I just looked at him as he continued. He fell asleep while Angel was making him food? Okay there was definitely something wrong with him, Angel made a mean pancake. Speaking of pancakes I'm still hungry considering I only ate a portion of that peanut butter and jelly

[stoic_angel_]

"I'm... glad you're fine," I said weakly, as Cordelia began towing me toward the kitchen. "And yeah, I'll make pancakes..."

I glanced at her when she asked about Doyle, and frowned. "He still hasn't checked in? It's been a few days..." I would have called him myself if things hadn't kept popping up all over the place. it had been a hectic few days, but... what if he was hurt? Then it was my fault for not checking in. What a great friend I was...

"A package?" I asked, startled by her sudden change in conversation. Who would send me a package? Probably some samples or something... insurance offers again, maybe. Who knew? And you would think that after knowing Cordelia for two years now, I'd know her conversational jumping skills by now... but she just never ceased to amaze and confuse me. Probalby half of what kept me young (mentally, anyway).

[divinecordelia]

I glanced at him and nodded, returning my attention back to the spot on the table. This place never stayed clean, always seemed like I was mopping up demon guts or spilled blood every other time I turned around. I was thankful that the lobby wasn't carpeted, I'd surely go insane, but area rugs did the trick hiding the big stains. Pretty soon the whole lobby would be nothing but a big old area rug heaven, or something