The Offices of Angel Investigations (Name Change Pending) | Los Angeles, CA | Late May
"She's not here," Angel said, looking around the offices. It had been a short drive from Wesley's apartment back here, during which time Wesley had tried Cordelia's home phone several times. When she hadn't answered, they'd assumed she was back at the office, but... she wasn't.
"That doesn't bode well," Wesley said, pacing up and down the office in search of clues.
"Well, maybe she's just out on a date or with her friends or something," Angel suggested.
Wesley made a small, disparaging noise. "That's unlikely."
Angel eyed him. "It's Friday night, Wesley," he said, as though that made a smooth logical leap.
"That's correct," Wesley confirmed.
"Well," Angel said. "Knowing her--"
"But you don't," Wesley interrupted. "You don't know her at all. For months now you haven't cared to. Otherwise you might have realized that our Cordelia has become a very solitary girl. She's not the vain, carefree creature she once was." He paused, then reevaluated. "Well," he amended, "Certainly not carefree. It's the visions, you see. The visions that were meant to guide you. You could turn away from them. She doesn't have that luxury. She knows and experiences the pain in this city, and because of who she is, she feels compelled to do something about it. It's left her little time for anything else. You'd have known that, if you hadn't had you head firmly up your... place that isn't on top of your neck."
Polite, Wes. Really.
Angel took a moment as that sunk in. Then-- "We have to find her."
"Yes, we agree on that," Wesley said, more quietly now. "She could be in grave danger."
"And even if she's not," Angel started, but Wesley cut him off.
"Something's coming," he said. "Turn off the lights. The Skilosh might have followed us here."
Angel switched off the lights, lifting the axe he'd brought with him from Wesley's place. (It never hurt to be prepared, all right?) The sound of advancing footsteps grew louder, both Wesley and Angel still so as to hear better, until--
-- the lights switched on and Charles Gunn appeared in the doorway.
"Gunn!" Wesley said, relieved. "What are you doing here?"
"I was passing by," Gunn answered. "Saw the light was on. Besides, I work here."
Reasonable.
"But I thought you'd gone," Wesley pointed out.
"Gone? Well, yeah," Gunn said, "but that don't mean I wasn't coming back. What, you didn't think I was gonna abandon you like this guy, did you?" he reasoned, nodding at Angel.
Wesley smiled. "No," he granted. "Certainly not."
"Come on, English," Gunn said, reaching out to execute the handshake the two of them had developed over the past month of working together. "You know you're my man."
Angel watched this critically, then assessed, "I see you guys have bonded."
"That happens when you fight shoulder-to-shoulder," Wesley said coldly.
"This man took a bullet for me!"
"Oh, it was nothing."
Gunn grinned at him, though it faltered slightly as he glanced back at Angel. "What's he doing here?" he asked Wes a bit more quietly.
"He had an epiphany," Wesley summarized.
"Ahh," Gunn said with a nod of recognition. "Well. I saw you guys turn off the lights and hide. What's up with that?"
"Demon attack at my home," Wesley said.
"I saved him," Angel chimed in.
Gunn rolled his eyes at that contribution. "What kind?" he asked Wesley, ignoring Angel.
"Skilosh, I'm afraid."
"Eye-in-the-back-of-the-head-type demon? I thought we got rid of that!"
"We did," Wesley agreed. "Which is why I believe we are being targeted for retribution by the tribe."
Gunn sucked in a breath and gave a nod. "Where's Cordy?"
"We don't know," Wesley said. "Not here."
"You checked her message pad?"
Apparently feeling an urge to be a part of the conversation again, Angel said, "That's a good idea." He picked a pencil up off the desk. "Here, you can use this. You can make a rubbing of the impressions she left. See what the last thing she wrote was."
Gunn eyed him. "Or you could just look at the carbon."
"Or that."
Gunn gave the carbon copy some scrutiny, pointedly not letting Angel see it, and then handed it over to Wes. "Directions," he said.
"Yes, I know that address," Wesley said. "It's the Sharpes. The family whose daughter we treated."
"Looks like she wrote that down tonight," Gunn said thoughtfully. "You think she went there?"
"Why else would she take the original?"
Gunn nodded. "Gear up?"
Wesley opened a drawer and started passing up equipment. "Best to be prepared," he agreed. "The de-oculation powder should be... ah, here."
Once his things were all in order, he stood up, taking his jacket off the back of the desk chair and getting ready to leave.
Hastily, Angel interrupted, "Guys -- guys, does it really make sense that she would go there in the middle of the night without calling either one of you?"
Gunn and Wesley looked at each other. "They owe us money," they said in unison.
Angel grabbed his own jacket. "Let's go."
[[nfb/nfi.]]