[ he's not terribly surprised when the designated fifteen minutes passes and there's no Buffy. he smiles a little to himself, before wincing, realizing he's already falling back on his 'Sunnydale denial' ways, now that they're both in the same place again. and she still thinks they could be together. or would, if he hadn't already told her they broke up. honestly, if he'd realized they weren't from the same time from the beginning, he wouldn't have said anything. he could've pretended...
no, that wouldn't have been fair, on either of them. but god, he kind of wishes it were the case, anyway. he's selfish, and he'll be the first one to admit it. if this place is going to be so awful, what's the harm in pretending, for as long as he can, that...
"what's the harm," of course, is one of the reasons he broke up with her in the first place. a slippery slope of 'this is alright', and the road to hell--or rather, Angelus--being paved with good intentions. his intentions aren't even that good.
while he waits, Angel makes a network post asking about where to procure blood for a vampire. he's getting some... interesting responses, when he shivers, glancing toward the door, even though there's been no knock yet.
he's over to it and opening the door before she announces herself, but he can't help it. he stares at her, like an oasis to a man dying of heat and thirst. the cross on her neck is a familiar, even welcome ache, because that's his. it's not his mark on her neck, but it draws a similar reaction from him.
he can't help the answering, small smile, even if there's a little bit of ache in that, too, at her greeting. ]
Buffy. Hi.
[ it takes another couple seconds before he steps back, holding the door open. ]
no subject
no, that wouldn't have been fair, on either of them. but god, he kind of wishes it were the case, anyway. he's selfish, and he'll be the first one to admit it. if this place is going to be so awful, what's the harm in pretending, for as long as he can, that...
"what's the harm," of course, is one of the reasons he broke up with her in the first place. a slippery slope of 'this is alright', and the road to hell--or rather, Angelus--being paved with good intentions. his intentions aren't even that good.
while he waits, Angel makes a network post asking about where to procure blood for a vampire. he's getting some... interesting responses, when he shivers, glancing toward the door, even though there's been no knock yet.
he's over to it and opening the door before she announces herself, but he can't help it. he stares at her, like an oasis to a man dying of heat and thirst. the cross on her neck is a familiar, even welcome ache, because that's his. it's not his mark on her neck, but it draws a similar reaction from him.
he can't help the answering, small smile, even if there's a little bit of ache in that, too, at her greeting. ]
Buffy. Hi.
[ it takes another couple seconds before he steps back, holding the door open. ]
Come in.