Serving as liaison between the single most powerful evil force in countless dimensions...and the hapless vampire/white-hat hybrid they, in their infinite wisdom, decided to put in charge of the L.A. office... Isn't quite as thrilling an assignment as one might expect it to be.
Which isn't to say that I've become "bored" with my duties. No. Boredom is the mark of the unimaginative, and the easily distracted.
But I must admit to a growing...dissatisfaction with simply sitting back and watching Angel's crew and their somewhat pathetic exploits.
There was never a lack for things to do before the vampire began his play for a place within the Circle of the Black Thorn. Schemes to plot. Traps to set. The usual humdrum that is the company's current policy for seducing potential allies over to the home team.
Now that Angel's working on a shiny new pass to play with the big boys on the Senior Partners' side, all bets are off. And so are many of my previous extracurricular activities. Corporate policy (it always comes back to that
( ... )
They're talking to me. Those voices. They keep talking to me and I don't know how to make them shut up. Perhaps I've died and this is my hell. Books everywhere, ancient texts at the tips of my fingers, but unable to use them. Because the voice keep telling me that I can't use them. I'm not worthy of using them.
But I did manage to get one book from them. They're not taking away that one no matter what they say. They can't make me give it up. Softly, I caressed the spine of the book and then carefully laid it down next to my shoes. It would be safe there. No one could touch that particular spot. It was my spot, I'd created it to hide things from the voices. Too bad it wasn't big enough to hide me.
"Who knows you better then I do?"
"Shut up, Lilah."
"Make me.
I scowled up in the air, up at the voice. I could practically hear the smugness in it. Bitch. But she'd been right. She'd known me better then anyone. Better then...Fred.
"You think you could have love me?""I did love you," I whispered, glancing around for her ghost. Of
( ... )
Just when I think I may have gotten it right, and prepare to make that call to Personnel...and, possibly, Custodial...I hear a sign of life come from the other side of the closed door.
There's a pause...then the door opens. A crack. Just wide enough for Angel's head of Research to stick his head out and look at me
( ... )
My frown deepened at his words. I shifted a little, leaning against the wall as I gave him a once over. Odd saying that, 'a once over'. A once over what? Exactly? I need to make a note to figure that out. It's about as vague as a prophecy. One never knows it might be one in disguise. "You're whom?" I asked, staring at him in disbelieve.
"Let's go have a talk, Lilah lite!".
"I don't know, Cordy," I muttered, shifting a little again as I kept staring. "He doesn't strike me as a Lilah lite." Tilting my head, I narrowed my eyes and wrinkled my nose. "At least they'd have gotten me some tea. They understood the importance of tea." Whomever 'they' might be. Didn't matter, I was quite certain of it.
"Look man. I didn't know! I didn't know it was going to be one of us. Was going to be Fred!""Shut up, Charles." Nodding at that, I stepped back into my office, nearly stumbling over a book. Dammit! What idiot put those so carelessly on the floor?! If it was damaged, heads were going to roll. Quiet literally. They shouldn't be touching the
( ... )
If my curiosity wasn't already piqued, I dare say the way Pryce's eyes drop as he shifts slightly away from the door would have done the trick. Not that the look in them as they travel over me, from what I can tell, speaks of anything but suspicion.
And confusion, undoubtedly. Considering the state Pryce is in, I'm uncertain he even sees me as he begins speaking to himself. Or, more accurately, to persons only he believes to be present in the room with us. He wanders away from the door, almost stumbling over something in his path. I follow after, just a few steps into the office. Noticing, as I glance down at the book that tripped him, that Pryce isn't wearing any shoes
( ... )
Why can't he get me my tea? Seriously, is that to much to ask for? We British communicate via our tea, isn't that his job? I think this is a rather big case of miscommunication. "Barbarian," I muttered under my breath, tossing him a glare. He's making light of my tea, just like Angel used to do
( ... )
An accusation of barbarism was not, perhaps, the response I expected to my question. He's no longer demanding tea from me, however, so I assume we're making progress.
A miscommunication is definitely in the works, as he fails to interpret my meaning of 'not too soon'. I imagine the word "soon" does carry an entirely different connotation for the average mortal. I see no need to clarify this matter...which is fortunate, as he's speaking again before I would have had the chance.
Once... I could overlook. Twice I could overlook as well, I suppose. But while it does not escape my notice that this is not the most mentally stable of Angel's little band of do-gooders... Pryce is still a member of the do-gooding team. I have to wonder if the man would be as comfortable referring to how "good" I look - twice in one conversation, no less - if he were having somewhat of a less schizophrenic day. Or week. Or, possibly, year
( ... )
Oh dear god. Cordelia would've skinned me alive if she'd caugth me spoiling an expensive looking shirt like that. Is that silk? Leaning in, I peered at the fabric, running a hand over it. No, not silk. Well thank god! Not all is los then. Still. cordelia would've really tore my head off. Several times over, in fact.
I blink when there's suddenly a hand closing around my wrist. Stumbling back a bit, I look up at this chap confused. Why did he do that. I wasn't done cleaning! Well, if it doesn't come out, it's his own fault. He can't blame me for it. End of story. I've a battery of lawyers at my disposal, this is a lawfirm after all. Hell, I'd call Gunn. Unless he's still mad at me for stabbing him
( ... )
He stumbles in my grasp before pulling away. He talks of 'manhandling' now and I find myself smiling. If a little hand-holding gets this reaction I think it's safe to say that Pryce doesn't know the meaning of the word.
If it were anyone else - well anyone not currently cleaning up the mess they'd just made and grumbling to ghosts about who made it - I might make this mention.
Instead one of the names he keeps using finally catches my interest, and I realize 'Lilah' is Lilah Morgan. Wolfram & Hart's CEO at the time of the Beast. Immediately before Angel's appointment
( ... )
Taste? Taste? What is he going on about now then? Hopefully my tea, which he still hasn't gotten me. I'm going to have to have a word about that with Angel. Come on now, I've asked him several times over if he'd fetch my tea. Did he? No. I'm still standing here empty handed, and very tealess
( ... )
Which isn't to say that I've become "bored" with my duties. No. Boredom is the mark of the unimaginative, and the easily distracted.
But I must admit to a growing...dissatisfaction with simply sitting back and watching Angel's crew and their somewhat pathetic exploits.
There was never a lack for things to do before the vampire began his play for a place within the Circle of the Black Thorn. Schemes to plot. Traps to set. The usual humdrum that is the company's current policy for seducing potential allies over to the home team.
Now that Angel's working on a shiny new pass to play with the big boys on the Senior Partners' side, all bets are off. And so are many of my previous extracurricular activities. Corporate policy (it always comes back to that ( ... )
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But I did manage to get one book from them. They're not taking away that one no matter what they say. They can't make me give it up. Softly, I caressed the spine of the book and then carefully laid it down next to my shoes. It would be safe there. No one could touch that particular spot. It was my spot, I'd created it to hide things from the voices. Too bad it wasn't big enough to hide me.
"Who knows you better then I do?"
"Shut up, Lilah."
"Make me.
I scowled up in the air, up at the voice. I could practically hear the smugness in it. Bitch. But she'd been right. She'd known me better then anyone. Better then...Fred.
"You think you could have love me?""I did love you," I whispered, glancing around for her ghost. Of ( ... )
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There's a pause...then the door opens. A crack. Just wide enough for Angel's head of Research to stick his head out and look at me ( ... )
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"Let's go have a talk, Lilah lite!".
"I don't know, Cordy," I muttered, shifting a little again as I kept staring. "He doesn't strike me as a Lilah lite." Tilting my head, I narrowed my eyes and wrinkled my nose. "At least they'd have gotten me some tea. They understood the importance of tea." Whomever 'they' might be. Didn't matter, I was quite certain of it.
"Look man. I didn't know! I didn't know it was going to be one of us. Was going to be Fred!""Shut up, Charles." Nodding at that, I stepped back into my office, nearly stumbling over a book. Dammit! What idiot put those so carelessly on the floor?! If it was damaged, heads were going to roll. Quiet literally. They shouldn't be touching the ( ... )
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And confusion, undoubtedly. Considering the state Pryce is in, I'm uncertain he even sees me as he begins speaking to himself. Or, more accurately, to persons only he believes to be present in the room with us. He wanders away from the door, almost stumbling over something in his path. I follow after, just a few steps into the office. Noticing, as I glance down at the book that tripped him, that Pryce isn't wearing any shoes ( ... )
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A miscommunication is definitely in the works, as he fails to interpret my meaning of 'not too soon'. I imagine the word "soon" does carry an entirely different connotation for the average mortal. I see no need to clarify this matter...which is fortunate, as he's speaking again before I would have had the chance.
Once... I could overlook. Twice I could overlook as well, I suppose. But while it does not escape my notice that this is not the most mentally stable of Angel's little band of do-gooders... Pryce is still a member of the do-gooding team. I have to wonder if the man would be as comfortable referring to how "good" I look - twice in one conversation, no less - if he were having somewhat of a less schizophrenic day. Or week. Or, possibly, year ( ... )
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I blink when there's suddenly a hand closing around my wrist. Stumbling back a bit, I look up at this chap confused. Why did he do that. I wasn't done cleaning! Well, if it doesn't come out, it's his own fault. He can't blame me for it. End of story. I've a battery of lawyers at my disposal, this is a lawfirm after all. Hell, I'd call Gunn. Unless he's still mad at me for stabbing him ( ... )
Reply
If it were anyone else - well anyone not currently cleaning up the mess they'd just made and grumbling to ghosts about who made it - I might make this mention.
Instead one of the names he keeps using finally catches my interest, and I realize 'Lilah' is Lilah Morgan. Wolfram & Hart's CEO at the time of the Beast. Immediately before Angel's appointment ( ... )
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