A room in the Arms Hotel, Sunday Night

[notstakedyet]

Angel was alone and brooding. He was brooding broodily in a broodily brooding sort of fashion. There were even dramatic shadows that fell across his face to help set the appropriately broodily brooding tone. He was also staring at a spot some distance away from him in a very intent yet brooding way.

How did this differ from any other night in Angel's life? His shirt was open to expose the white wifebeater underneath.

[ooc: For one]