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[exiledwatcher]

William the Bloody, alive and well in New Metropolis. Actually, not quite alive but all the same he seems to exist. Which I'm sure will give Angel quite the conniption. Not that it affects my state of being much these days. Angel seems to be doing quite well with his reformed Champion Investigations without me. Luckily for me, I have a

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[losther_faith]

Well, this week wasn't getting any fucking better.

I hadn't found Spike - not that I was really determined to. I went to a club last night and found another guy, took him home and kicked him out shortly afterwards. It wasn't entirely satisfying, but it was better than nothing. I'm still waitin' for the day I meet my match.

Should be interesting.

I knew I should go into the office (not that I've become one of those corporate fucks who says shit like 'go into the office') and look some stuff over. Like whatever the fuck happened to Lindsey and who's going to be the next CEO of the firm. 'Cause I ain't sticking around for long. Not as the big bad, anyway. It just ain't my schtick. Steal, kill, get paid. This desk job shit is quickly gettin' old. So down I went, telling the secretary to get me coffee, black, but there was already someone in my office.

In my chair.

Oh, fuck no. Nobody sits in my fuckin' chair.

"Move."

[exiledwatcher]

"Still lacking a bit in etiquette I see." What else could I have hoped for? Lindsey had gotten her our of prison to run errands for him. A slayer as personal gopher, how sad. Turning the chair around to face her I had a thought to put my feet up on the desk. That, would be a bit too Faith for me however.

"How long has it been Faith? Three? Four years? You look..." I paused taking in the hostility rising above her. "... the same." However many years it had been, it was not nearly enough. "In any event, it seems we're to work together."

[losther_faith]

"You'll be lackin' in something else if you don't move your ass."

But I decided not to wait. Patience was not one of my strengths. Coming back behind the desk, I grabbed the back of the chair and tilted it, giving Wesley no chance but to jump out - or fall on his ass. Whatever. I'm not picky. Maybe I can't speak twenty dead demon languages, but I'm stronger. Guess what counts?

Settling into the chair - damn nice chair - I slung my feet on the desk in front of me and stared at the man in front of me. "Haven't been keeping track," I said, "but I bet you have. I bet you know exactly how long it's been since the Council canned you. And what do you mean, we're working together. Since when?"

[exiledwatcher]

Ignoring her taking of the chair I walked over to the wet bar in the corner, dropping a pair of ice cubes into a tumbler and locating the bottle of Jamison on the shelf. "Since I had a call with Mr. Hart about, oh-" I checked my wristwatch, "-half an hour ago." I finished pouring and took a sip, leaning against the floor to ceiling windows, looking down on the city.

"To think, Angel used to occupy this office in Los Angeles." He always had enjoyed the view. New Metropolis still lacked the smog of LA thankfully. "My own office was just down the hall." She always had underestimated me. Not that she was the only one to.

"Now then. How do you feel about turtles?"