Drabble post Damage
Sitting still had never been a strong suit, but months as a ghost at least meant he was used to not being able to touch things. He was still conscience when the calvary arrived but had passed out soon after only to wake up in their infirmary all unhumpty-dumptied. With a sniff he knew who was waiting to speak with him, but he still didn't know why. He'd told them to piss off, he'd done what Andrew - what a foppish hair cut the lad wore now, little giles indeed- would call the 'lone wolf' approach but when he'd but buggered it up good they'd swooped in, saved the day, and then rescued him, and Angel still hadn't gloated. It was almost, civilized.