(Untitled)
The trip from Los Angeles to Sunnydale was uneventful, except that Cordelia had a complaint about everything that happened. We took the train and she complained that the porter wouldn't carry all seven of her bags into the main compartment because she wanted them close in case she needed to change her outfit. She complained when the towels in the
( Read more... )
Comments 2
"Well..." Ugh. For starters I needed to find a bathroom with an actual bathtub. And not one of those cheap tacky fiberglass ones. A real porcelin tub with the little feet and maybe some rose petals in the water. That long on a train, a public train no less and I...oh god...I smelled. Cordelia Chase is not meant to smell. Ever.
Glancing around the dark platform I saw nobody had bothered to come greet us. Figures, Angel wouldn't bother to pick up a finger to help his so-called team. "Knowing Mister Broodypants the way I do and his love of all things familiar and cheap I'm betting he's at his creepy abandoned mansion." Which come to think of it, not so different from his creepy abandoned hotel digs. "Which means we need to flag down a cab, and that happens to be one of my special talents."
Grabbing one of the suitcases that had wheels I left the rest for Fred to move as I headed toward the pick up area. How much leg would I need to flash?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment