✟ hollow heroes separate, as they run

[todoright]

There's something that humans and other living things have. A circadian rhythm. They went to sleep when it got dark and rose during the daylight hours. For the past 247 years, Angel had been doing just the opposite

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[todoright]

Truth be told, Angel hadn't minded sitting in the dark that much. His eyes were used to it, even without vampire senses - and there was something about the dark that was familiar to him when everything else was pretty much new. But he hadn't expected to cook like this, and just as he was getting up to reach for the light switch, they flickered to life on their own accord.

The man's been drinking. Angel's done it enough in his old life to know the smell and the signs from a mile away. Probably someone who wasn't used to their new human constitution and let themselves get carried away. In some way, he understands - it used to be pretty damn hard to get him drunk, not that he did it very often.

Angel hadn't minded the Prohibition as much as so many others did.

Standing up, he's ready to lend a balancing hand if the man needs it, but there is pride to factor in here. Girls were always more open to being rescued and helped than anyone else, for some reason. But not all of them were.

"Can you sit?"

[todoright]

There are indeed crackers in the pantry - several different kinds, actually. He's not sure which ones are better, so he grabs two or three bags and sets them on the table, tacitly pushing them towards the blonde man, who was really drunk - regardless of what he said.

And after that simple action, there was nothing else to be done...and therefore, this lead to a period of awkward silence. Angel doesn't normally mind silence, but there's that nagging feeling that he should say something. This guy's in definitely 'drowning sorrows' mode and...alcohol poisoning is never a pretty thing.

Stalling, Angel grabs a cracker from the bag and pops it into his mouth. Who knew a thing made of bread and salt could taste so good?

"...So."