Someone needs a talkin' to...
After getting directions from Lilah, I walked through as many fuckin' walls and doors and floors as it took me t'finally get t'Percy's office. Maybe if he got me all riled up enough, I'd be able t'punch him
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"Good. I was afraid the food might get here before we did, and that it would spoil the surprise."
She's acting weird. I'm used to Fred acting weird. She has a lot of lovably odd tendencies about her, and I've learned to live with all of them. Today, something seems flat out off about her. Usually I can mentally make excuses for her being overworked and overpaid, but those excuses don't fly when we're all coming back from a day off.
"Not to mention, more time for it to get cold."
I was going to say something, but closed my mouth when I realized that Wesley appeared to be furiously frustrated over God knows what. I didn't have a clue about what was bothering him, and from the look on her face, Fred didn't either.
Bad news ahead. It's just one of those days. Kind of like every other one we've spent here.
"Wesley?"
"You know what?" I started, walking over to Wesley desk and hopping up on the side of it. "If something is wrong, I don't want to hear about it until after we have lunch. Hellmouth, hell spawn, building of Hell that we work in, whatever it is, it can wait until we've spent some time together. It's been too long."
And that's that.
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After a few moments, though, the letters began to swim, and a sudden ache settled into my shoulders. I turned away from the book and lowered my head into my hands, trying to rest my eyes. It wasn't until I heard Fred's voice that I realised I had company.
"Wesley?"
I glanced up to see both Fred and Cordy standing against the opposite wall of the office, looking more than a little concerned.
"Fred? Cordelia? What--"
After a moment, I finally tumbled to how I must have looked as they entered-- frustrated, if not entirely distraught, and in possibly dire straits. Though such a determination would not be terribly far from the truth, I certainly didn't want them to realise it.
"You know what? If something is wrong, I don't want to hear about it until after we have lunch. Hellmouth, hell spawn, building of Hell that we work in, whatever it is, it can wait until we've spent some time together. It's been too long."
I blinked at Cordy as she vaulted onto my desk and turned a pleasant, if somewhat exasperated expression to me, and I couldn't help but smile back.
"Indeed it has. And no, as a matter of fact, I was just trying to rest my eyes. I've spent almost the entire morning buried in ancient texts that must have been written by very tiny ancient people, and I was getting a headache."
My spirits already well-lifted by the sight of my friends, and thoughts of Lilah and potential nefarious plans fading into the back of my mind, I felt a genuine smile warming my face.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the company of two such fine ladies this afternoon?"
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"I guess that's the part where different jobs, different places comes into play. If you ask me, it leaves us entirely too...exposed," I mused on before Cordy's message really sank in. I met her eyes, and I was already a bit calmer with the sight of Cordelia and Wesley just in front of me. "But that is obviously what we are not discussing right now, so forget I said anything at all."
"Indeed it has. And no, as a matter of fact, I was just trying to rest my eyes. I've spent almost the entire morning buried in ancient texts that must have been written by very tiny ancient people, and I was getting a headache."
"Resting you eyes," I echoed, settling into on of the chairs just scross from the desk. "In my research world that is called a nap. Though for some reason I am always so worried about being caught in said nap I am exteremely jumpy and get no rest at all...so I am not sure of the point of the excercise at all. Or why I am so worried about being caught?" I pulled my hair free of its work-induced bun and finally shrugged out of my lab coat. It was entirely too bright anyway, and tended to call for too much attention to be directed my way. "But those are my issues, I am in no way at all suggesting that is what you might have been up to."
I decided to change the subject, if only slightly.
"Tiny people," I pondered. "Perhaps they only had tiny hands. After all, while the writing is always small with these things, the books always seem to be very very big. How would they have lifted them?"
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the company of two such fine ladies this afternoon?"
"That," I nodded in the direction of the delievry man, who was even now entering the office, several bags in hand. While it wasn't quite one of everything on the menu, it was a very respectable sampling.
"It seemed like a good idea."
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How could I forget, I say it all time. Day after day, week after week, I might as well just make a recording of it and tape that to Angel's desk. There are times when I feel like we've made a huge mistake, but Angel did what he had to do. If I had been there, I wouldn't have disagreed with him either, although from what I hear, my friends didn't have the option to disagree. Angel had everything signed in blood before they knew they knew that he was considering the deal. I doubt anyone was expecting him to take it.
He wasn't wrong to do it, he just wasn't right either.
"Indeed it has. And no, as a matter of fact, I was just trying to rest my eyes. I've spent almost the entire morning buried in ancient texts that must have been written by very tiny ancient people, and I was getting a headache."
I believe the part about the headache, but the rest of it sounds like an excuse. And tiny ancient people? I know that he's trying, but for Wesley, that's overdoing it.
When would he ever find the time to think about something as trivial as the tiny ancients if he wasn't grasping for a topic changer?
"Tiny people. Perhaps they only had tiny hands. After all, while the writing is always small with these things, the books always seem to be very very big. How would they have lifted them?"
"I think you just ruined Wesley's theory on the tiny ancients."
Despite the pouting I was ready to do a few minutes ago, I'm glad that we came down here for lunch. The three of us spend so much time apart that there's rarely any time to joke about small people writing books, or about Fred's ability to prove Wesley wrong...we keep to ourselves. My office isn't very far from Angel's but I haven't been talking to him as much as I should be. There has to be some kind of balance here. If it's all about work, then we're doing exactly what the Senior Partners want us to do. And that cannot end well for the team.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of the company of two such fine ladies this afternoon?"
"That. It seemed like a good idea."
"We're going to solve our problems by eating large amounts of food. It's a new theory, it's called running a law firm without starving to death."
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Fred. I'd paid the price more than once years ago of actually ignoring the various verbal meanderings that took place when Fred spoke in favor of determining the main point to which she was getting. Over the intervening years, we'd all developed the knack of paying complete attention to the ramble entire without getting lost along the tangled tracks of Fred's train of thought.
"Of course not. We've all seen each other passed out atop a book during a late night research session. Easy enough to tell the difference."
Cordelia, though, I think might have been having more dubious thoughts as far as my own explanation went, but didn't comment on it. I was glad of it-- the shambles of a certain side of my personal life were not a subject I would gladly discuss at that moment.
"Tiny people. Perhaps they only had tiny hands. After all, while the writing is always small with these things, the books always seem to be very very big. How would they have lifted them?"
"I think you just ruined Wesley's theory on the tiny ancients."
A short, loud laugh escaped my throat before I even knew it was forming. Smiling I nodded and began clearing off my desk for what seemed to be enough take-out food for the entire floor's worth of employees.
"Touché. Another erroneous theory brought low by impeccable logic. Ruined, indeed."
I gazed at the mountain of food, the gathered scent of which was turning the atmosphere of my office into a melange of the most amazing smells. In fact, the food's odor was so enticing that a small audience was trying to look casual as it hovered near the open doorway. Once the delivery person was gone, I shut the door firmly behind him.
"That. It seemed like a good idea."
"We're going to solve our problems by eating large amounts of food. It's a new theory, it's called running a law firm without starving to death."
I took my seat again and grinned.
"A new theory. Exactly what we needed, then."
Digging through the myriad bags and containers, I unearthed the utensils and napkins and a handful of plastic plates. I handed the lot to Fred and Cordy to divvy up and distribute while I began opening the various squat white cartons and plastic tubs, rattling off names as I went.
"Fried wonton... Szechuan chicken... Mongolian beef... vegetable chow mein... hot and sour soup... Good Lord, we'll be eating until quitting time."
After being handed my plate and chopsticks, I piled a few bits of two or three different dishes onto the plate and wheeled my chair around until we three were sitting in a tight semicircle in front of the desk.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that this isn't a working lunch, and so shop talk is off the table, and ask both of you how your day has been. And, actually, Cordy, how your day off was, for that matter."
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"Right," I agreed, looking from Cordy to Wes, and enoying the different sort of feeling being here with them, and without my labcoat seemed to call up. Though, perhaps not so different really, as familiar. "And what we saw when we walked in? Obviously not a nap...not at all." I looked to Cordy to see if she was with us.
"I think you just ruined Wesley's theory on the tiny ancients."
"Touché. Another erroneous theory brought low by impeccable logic. Ruined, indeed."
I passed each of them a paper plate, before bringing my own bit of paper up to my heart in mock hurt. "Wesley," I sighed. "You gave up so easily! That was your chance to speak of levers or pulleys, or any other manner of things. There was were plenty of ways for your tiny ancients to get the job done...not that I am conceeding their size in any shape or form."
"We're going to solve our problems by eating large amounts of food. It's a new theory, it's called running a law firm without starving to death."
My plate, already loaded down with food, was now nestled in my lap. "My lunch agrees with you Cordy," I smiled at her, so very glad we had taken this time. Soon enough it would be bck to the lab. Paperwork that had crossed my desk just before Cordy arrived had confirmed the arrival of a body in just over an hour from now.
And there was no way that work was going to be able to be done from my office.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that this isn't a working lunch, and so shop talk is off the table, and ask both of you how your day has been. And, actually, Cordy, how your day off was, for that matter."
I thought about that for a moment.
"Well," I started slowly. "The day began in rather lovely way, but then it started to be...odd?" Had I really now spoken to my friends today until just now? Had I not stepped foot on the lab floor all day? I would have to work on that...when I started working again. "But there is food now. How can we go wrong?"
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"Wesley, You gave up so easily! That was your chance to speak of levers or pulleys, or any other manner of things. There was were plenty of ways for your tiny ancients to get the job done...not that I am conceeding their size in any shape or form."
This is why I'm the Vice President. It's cute to listen to smart people banter about the size of ancient authors, but if I had to do it all of the time, it would kill me. We're talking migraines that would make a vision headache look more like a brainfreeze than a painful, throbbing, death-inducing ouch.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that this isn't a working lunch, and so shop talk is off the table, and ask both of you how your day has been. And, actually, Cordy, how your day off was, for that matter."
Talking about my day off would fall into the category of shop talk, I doubt it's allowed. The vision still isn't sitting well with me, but it didn't seem terrible enough to mention right in the middle of our lunch. Lorne is going to get pissy and threaten to kill someone. I've threatened so many demons around here that I lost track of the whos and the whys.
Evil employees work harder when they fear you.
"Well, the day began in rather lovely way, but then it started to be...odd? But there is food now. How can we go wrong?"
I nodded, filling up my plate with rice and beef. Fred just jinxed us, she doesn't realize it, but she did. Any time one of us is brazen enough to ask how something can go wrong, it automatically "goes" within the course of an hour. I'd never make a comment like that unless I was expecting trouble, and in spite of the job from Hell, I try not to expect bad things to happen. Usually they just do.
"So...I think Lorne is going to have a rough couple of days in the near future. There was a vision, we don't have to talk about it now, he doesn't seem to think it's very important.
But he's an optimist. I'm a realist. I know that if it was sent to me by the Powers, it's important. He's not a bitch queen unless something is terribly wrong.
"We spent the day off catching up. I now know who Colin Farrel is, and have his cell phone number, address, email, and a copy of Phonebooth to prove it."
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