Gunn sidestepped it carefully, holding his coat in close until they were past. "I think that's a damn good idea, Wes."
Beside the door, Wesley unlocked a book on a pedestal - a very familiar book. "Wes - tell me that ain't one of the volumes from Wolfram and Hart."
"It isn't. March sixteenth, two-thousand and five," he told it and then opened it to the middle, reading the text as it scrolled over the page. "It is by the same manufacturer."
"Jesus. What's it take to get you to use a computer, man?"
"Books do not crash." Wesley pulled a yellow legal pad from the shelf above and jotted notes from the book.
"So what is it?"
"A practical calendar. Anything in red is a risk to sell within the next five days."
"Why's that?"
"Oh, various reasons. Planetary alignments, ides, portents - prophecies." Wesley shot Charles a smile and shut the book - pushed open the back-room door and led Charles out into the store proper. He went briskly to the door, flipping on the lights and unlocking - turning the 'closed' sign to 'open' and then going behind the counter to fire up the electric kettle. He liked to offer hot tea to anyone who fancied some - and he rather enjoyed having a cup or two during the day, as well.
Wesley watched Charles walk around the shop floor, peering into display cases and skirting the 'reading' area Wesley had set up - a low couch and a scatter of chairs and little tables so potential buyers could browse the wares at their leisure.
Of course, there was a small spell on the chairs and things, so that if the intent was to, say, read a spell and memorize it without paying, a nimbus of light would glow around the customer. It was noisy light, and rather unnerving and Wesley hadn't had too many problems with attempted theft.
"So, what do you think, Charles? Does it meet with your approval?"
Gunn eased himself into one of the chairs, stretching his leg out in front of him with a grimace. "Gotta say, English - you've come up in the world since the days of the Gunn Agency."
"Wyndam-Pryce Agency, you mean."
"Yeah, yeah." Wes came over, eased a footstool under his leg and smiled the way that made Gunn need to pull him down by his sweater to be kissed. "Still helping the hopeless?"
"I haven't had any hopeless visitors yet." The kettle whistled and Wesley returned to pour the water, breathing in steam already scented with bergamot.
"Would you? Help them?"
Wesley loaded a tea tray with kettle and cups, sugar and cream, carried it back before he answered. "In a heartbeat."
"So you're still on the side of the - angels. What about the Twosome? They doing good or just doing each other?" Gunn watched as Wesley assembled two cups of tea - the precise, graceful movements of the Englishman's hands unchanged after so many years. Sugar tongs hooked just so, slice of lemon, for fuck's sake and little pot of cream that was probably kept chilled by a spell. Fancy cups that were a plain, dull green on the outside and a riot of color and pattern on the inside. A lot like Wes, really.
"Oh, they - well, they run errands for me. Supplies and books and things. And I know they've stepped in and helped people in need from time to time. They're not heartless. Or cruel. If you asked them, they'd say they quit, but... It gets to be a habit, the Champion business." Wes held out a cup and Gunn took it, letting his fingertips stroke along Wes' hand.
"Yeah, I guess it does at that."
Wesley's fingers tingled and warmed where Charles stroked them and he cupped them around his tea, sitting back in his chair. "It doesn't do any harm, letting them think they're retired."
"They know how well you've got them figured out?"
"I sincerely doubt it." Wesley inhaled deeply, tea and bergamot, lemon and sugar. "They aren't very different from Angel in some ways."
"'Cept they'd kick your ass for sayin' that where they can hear it." Gunn sipped his tea gingerly - and added two more sugar cubes. "How do you figure?"
Beside the door, Wesley unlocked a book on a pedestal - a very familiar book. "Wes - tell me that ain't one of the volumes from Wolfram and Hart."
"It isn't. March sixteenth, two-thousand and five," he told it and then opened it to the middle, reading the text as it scrolled over the page. "It is by the same manufacturer."
"Jesus. What's it take to get you to use a computer, man?"
"Books do not crash." Wesley pulled a yellow legal pad from the shelf above and jotted notes from the book.
"So what is it?"
"A practical calendar. Anything in red is a risk to sell within the next five days."
"Why's that?"
"Oh, various reasons. Planetary alignments, ides, portents - prophecies." Wesley shot Charles a smile and shut the book - pushed open the back-room door and led Charles out into the store proper. He went briskly to the door, flipping on the lights and unlocking - turning the 'closed' sign to 'open' and then going behind the counter to fire up the electric kettle. He liked to offer hot tea to anyone who fancied some - and he rather enjoyed having a cup or two during the day, as well.
Wesley watched Charles walk around the shop floor, peering into display cases and skirting the 'reading' area Wesley had set up - a low couch and a scatter of chairs and little tables so potential buyers could browse the wares at their leisure.
Of course, there was a small spell on the chairs and things, so that if the intent was to, say, read a spell and memorize it without paying, a nimbus of light would glow around the customer. It was noisy light, and rather unnerving and Wesley hadn't had too many problems with attempted theft.
"So, what do you think, Charles? Does it meet with your approval?"
Gunn eased himself into one of the chairs, stretching his leg out in front of him with a grimace. "Gotta say, English - you've come up in the world since the days of the Gunn Agency."
"Wyndam-Pryce Agency, you mean."
"Yeah, yeah." Wes came over, eased a footstool under his leg and smiled the way that made Gunn need to pull him down by his sweater to be kissed. "Still helping the hopeless?"
"I haven't had any hopeless visitors yet." The kettle whistled and Wesley returned to pour the water, breathing in steam already scented with bergamot.
"Would you? Help them?"
Wesley loaded a tea tray with kettle and cups, sugar and cream, carried it back before he answered. "In a heartbeat."
"So you're still on the side of the - angels. What about the Twosome? They doing good or just doing each other?" Gunn watched as Wesley assembled two cups of tea - the precise, graceful movements of the Englishman's hands unchanged after so many years. Sugar tongs hooked just so, slice of lemon, for fuck's sake and little pot of cream that was probably kept chilled by a spell. Fancy cups that were a plain, dull green on the outside and a riot of color and pattern on the inside. A lot like Wes, really.
"Oh, they - well, they run errands for me. Supplies and books and things. And I know they've stepped in and helped people in need from time to time. They're not heartless. Or cruel. If you asked them, they'd say they quit, but... It gets to be a habit, the Champion business." Wes held out a cup and Gunn took it, letting his fingertips stroke along Wes' hand.
"Yeah, I guess it does at that."
Wesley's fingers tingled and warmed where Charles stroked them and he cupped them around his tea, sitting back in his chair. "It doesn't do any harm, letting them think they're retired."
"They know how well you've got them figured out?"
"I sincerely doubt it." Wesley inhaled deeply, tea and bergamot, lemon and sugar. "They aren't very different from Angel in some ways."
"'Cept they'd kick your ass for sayin' that where they can hear it." Gunn sipped his tea gingerly - and added two more sugar cubes. "How do you figure?"
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