Heading home, a few days late
ooc: Happens after this, which is after this and this.
After finishing her phone call with Angel, and assuring him the meeting with the oracles had really happened, and that she was healed again, Cordelia left the vestibule and walked down the street to the Hyperion, with the intention of getting into her car and driving home.
Problem was, her car was gone. There was a moment of panic, then she remembered what Angel had said: she'd been gone for three days. She looked at her phone and amended that: four days, nearly. It was Friday morning now, and what she thought was dusk was actually dawn. Somehow she'd lost more time. Goody. Lindsey probably had half the LAPD combing the streets for her. Or even worse, half of Wolfram & Hart.
Cringing at the thought, she started to open her phone again, to call him and ask him to come get her. But before she could hit the speed dial, a taxi stopped at the corner near her to wait for the light. It was empty and on duty, so what the heck. It would save the awkward silence of the car ride home if Lindsey was going to be angry at her for not telling him where she was going. And would save her waiting on the street corner for him to come get her and getting mistakenly arrested for prostitution.
She should call Harry, though. Angel said he'd been worried. It wasn't a very long drive home, but it should be enough to tell baby brother she isn't dead. Better to call him now, because once she was home, there was no telling how long she'd be fighting talking to Lindsey. So after giving the driver her address, she settled back in the seat and made the call.
When they got to the condo, she paid the driver and headed up to the front door, taking note of her car in the driveway, alone. Lindsey wasn't home. Maybe she should have called him after all.
She went inside anyway, calmed down Kona, then headed upstairs just to be sure he wasn't there. He wasn't, and judging by the mess everywhere, he hadn't been doing much better than her brother. There was a map spread out on their bed with ashes on it, phone books on the table downstairs, open to the hospitals, magic books strewn about everywhere... Obviously he'd been trying to find her. She felt a stab of guilt for worrying him so much, even though she hadn't meant to be gone that long.
Yawning, she shoved some papers aside and flopped down on the couch. She should call him now, tell him to come home. And she would, in a minute. She just wanted to close her eyes first, just for a few seconds...
A few seconds was enough. She fell asleep almost instantly, phone still in her hand, open, her finger hovering over his speed dial button. So close, but yet so far. If he came home soon, he'd find her like this, looking eerily lifeless.
Happy Friday the 13th, Lindsey. Your girlfriend is back from the dead. She made a serious bargain to get that way, too, so she'd appreciate it if you don't kill her.
After finishing her phone call with Angel, and assuring him the meeting with the oracles had really happened, and that she was healed again, Cordelia left the vestibule and walked down the street to the Hyperion, with the intention of getting into her car and driving home.
Problem was, her car was gone. There was a moment of panic, then she remembered what Angel had said: she'd been gone for three days. She looked at her phone and amended that: four days, nearly. It was Friday morning now, and what she thought was dusk was actually dawn. Somehow she'd lost more time. Goody. Lindsey probably had half the LAPD combing the streets for her. Or even worse, half of Wolfram & Hart.
Cringing at the thought, she started to open her phone again, to call him and ask him to come get her. But before she could hit the speed dial, a taxi stopped at the corner near her to wait for the light. It was empty and on duty, so what the heck. It would save the awkward silence of the car ride home if Lindsey was going to be angry at her for not telling him where she was going. And would save her waiting on the street corner for him to come get her and getting mistakenly arrested for prostitution.
She should call Harry, though. Angel said he'd been worried. It wasn't a very long drive home, but it should be enough to tell baby brother she isn't dead. Better to call him now, because once she was home, there was no telling how long she'd be fighting talking to Lindsey. So after giving the driver her address, she settled back in the seat and made the call.
When they got to the condo, she paid the driver and headed up to the front door, taking note of her car in the driveway, alone. Lindsey wasn't home. Maybe she should have called him after all.
She went inside anyway, calmed down Kona, then headed upstairs just to be sure he wasn't there. He wasn't, and judging by the mess everywhere, he hadn't been doing much better than her brother. There was a map spread out on their bed with ashes on it, phone books on the table downstairs, open to the hospitals, magic books strewn about everywhere... Obviously he'd been trying to find her. She felt a stab of guilt for worrying him so much, even though she hadn't meant to be gone that long.
Yawning, she shoved some papers aside and flopped down on the couch. She should call him now, tell him to come home. And she would, in a minute. She just wanted to close her eyes first, just for a few seconds...
A few seconds was enough. She fell asleep almost instantly, phone still in her hand, open, her finger hovering over his speed dial button. So close, but yet so far. If he came home soon, he'd find her like this, looking eerily lifeless.
Happy Friday the 13th, Lindsey. Your girlfriend is back from the dead. She made a serious bargain to get that way, too, so she'd appreciate it if you don't kill her.