Hyperion, late Sunday night

[notstakedyet]

Angel wasn't nervous. Nervous would imply that he was obsessing over whether or not his new home and new business would make a good impression on his friends. If there was one thing Angel never did, it was obsess over things.

Oh. Wait.

Anyway, he was in the lobby of the Hyperion, constantly readjusting the position of the business card holders on the reception counter.