Bench

[scribblerrigby]

He shouldn’t have been surprised at Angel’s reaction. Now, he just felt awful. Malcolm James, you dumb f*ck. Now you’ve gone and messed everything up. He continued looking down, countering her stutters with low “yeah’s…,” more to himself than anything.

“Yeah. I'm sorry...I guess I didn’t know what I expected you to say to that…” He trailed off when Telfer returned, returning the glare, in a millisecond ready to kill the guy for…for everything he was doing. And Malcolm knew – KNEW what Telfer wanted.

But Angel had hesitated, right?

Laurie sauntered over with the drinks. Malcolm took his, glumly, and treated himself to a swig. This was the hardest-hitting thing he could think of off the top of his head, but he was pretty sure he needed it at this point in the evening. He made the mistake of looking over the edge of his drink at Telfer and Laurie and nearly did a spit-take.

Yep. There was the old up-down glance, that lizard grin. Definitely imagining - with a little too much relish - what he would do with that next piece of ass to come along.

If Malcolm were more of a mature person, he would have ignored it and maybe have brought it up later. If he were more of a mature person, he wouldn’t have made a scene in a somewhat crowded bar. But Angel and Laurie were his two best girl friends. Angel – quiet little Angel – was looking PISSED. Telfer was just so…OBVIOUS. And Malcolm wasn’t a very mature person.

“Oh, for CHRIST’S SAKE, Telfer. She’s RIGHT THERE,” he exploded, slamming down his drink, indicating Angel.

Laurie jumped, with the tiniest of unprofessional curses, and stared at Fin’s outburst, then looked between them, and slightly rolled her eyes. Of course, Fin realized, she was probably used to it, what with this being her work. And that being her uniform.

“Oh, not like you haven’t, you spazz…” she hissed under her breath to Malcolm, before donning the fake smile again, playing along, fishing for tips.

“Yeah, but I was SINGLE, then,” he growled back, though he was staring at Telfer.

"You're food will be ready in just a minute!" Laurie added brightly, ignoring him, and disappearing again.

[Clairice-Sarah]

When Malcolm slammed his drink on the table, Angel jumped, curling almost defensively in her seat. Eyes wide, she stared at him at watched the exchange, holding her breath as Telfer cocked his head in Malcolm's direction.

"Problem, red?" Telfer asked, grinning with his beer in hand, and reaching for Angel again.

She swatted him away. He stared.

"You know what? I'm done tonight. This is out of hand." She shook her head, breaths shaky. She couldn't decide if she should be angry, or just cry - regardless, she wasn't showing either here! She pulled out her wallet and put money for what she'd ordered on the table. Screw Telfer and his attitude. If her father were here, he'd be upset with her for putting up with this.

"Ang, where are you going?"

"Angel," she corrected, standing. "Angel. Not Ang." Angeline fished her phone out of her bag, fumbling with the contents of her purse. "I'm mad. I'm tired of this. This is stupid." Finally! Her phone! She began dialing. "I'm calling my dad and I'm going home. Maybe you can phone me tomorrow."

Telfer snatched her wrist, tightly, enough to make her stop dialing. "Sit down."

Angel looked up. Shock, anger, and then fear crossed her face as she met his hard stare. "Let go of me..."

"You're causing a scene. Relax. I'm sorry." His mouth twitched at a smirk, tone indicating he was anything but sorry. She tried to tug back, only for his much larger hand to grip her harder. Angel pursed her lips, trying her best not to wince.

"That hurts, you know I have cut--"

"Angel..."

"Let go!" She finally wrenched herself away and stumbled around the table, to Malcolm's side. That was it - the last straw. She put up with a lot, but that...she counted that as abuse. She had to, right? People weren't supposed to hurt each other. She put up with enough of that crap in high school. He knew she had scars and open wounds. That was uncalled for, that... "Don't touch me," she said, voice tiny.

Finally Telfer stood, eyes yellow. "Oh no, I don't f*cking think so..." His tongue and mouth turned black. He slammed his beer down on the table. f*cking gingers, ruined everything...

[scribblerrigby]

Telfer shot Malcolm a look after his outburst. Oh, my god, he’s doing this on purpose, he realized. Then, Angel swatted Telfer away and Malcolm couldn’t resist a smug smile. Yeah, that’s right, he thought, relishing the expression on Telfer’s face. You don’t have as much control as you think you do, you arrogant piece of –

Telfer snatched Angel’s wrist. Her pulse quickened; fear was all over her face. Then pain. Fin shot up from the chair, gripping the edge of the table, tendons visible in long, skeletal hands. “STOP,” he growled. “Don’t you f*cking touch her like that,” he spat through gritted teeth, restraint slipping away. They hadn’t heard him.

Pain. Quickened pulses. A strong wrench of Angel’s wrist reopened old wounds. Fear. Fear of Telfer. Fresh wounds. Blood. An extrasensory nightmare. Fin licked his lips with a dry tongue.

"That hurts, you know I have cut--" Angel gasped.

That tore it. The rope had snapped. The fuse had burned all the way down. NOBODY did that to her.

What little color Malcolm had vanished. His veins burned like white-hot little wires under his skin. Hands curled into gnarled claws. Bright red eyes blazed in a bone-white face, glaring with pure hatred at the monstrous boy in front of them. He squared his shoulders and stepped, confrontational, toward Telfer.

They had definitely caught the attention of the rest of the place, now. One woman was already on the phone, wide and nervous eves on Telfer and Angel. “Dude, no-no-no, keep it on that guy,” another person whispered to her friend, who had his camera phone pointed at the scene. “Gotta’ put this on Youtube, man...” Some people had already decided to leave as quickly as possible. The rest were either pretending nothing was wrong yet sneaking sideways glances at their table, or gaping blatantly.

Malcolm heard them, sensed the fear, ignored them. They weren’t important. They were only humans, and how much sweeter would wallowing in the blood of this sleazy demon-thing be?

Who was he kidding, he’d been itching for this all night.

Angel wrenched free, and stumbled over to his side. He instinctively stepped in front of her. “Don’t touch her,” he echoed with a snarl.

Telfer stood up, demonic, now. “Oh no, I don't f*cking think so..."

“Or what?” Malcolm smirked – confident, cocky, baring pointed fangs, his voice a sinister purr. “I’m not going to let you. You little sh*t.”

[Clairice-Sarah]

"Oh...no, no," Angel said, grabbing onto Malcolm's arm. "No, this is a bad idea, you don't want to fight...please? Malcolm?" He didn't hear her. Neither did Telfer. She glanced between them both, and tried to tug Malcolm back, but her fingers slacked on the sleeve of his hoodie as pain burst through the mark on her wrist. "Malcolm...there are people recording," she said, dropping her voice, "We can't...this can't happen here!"

By now, Telfer's hands too turned black and all three spade tattoos became lost in the transformation. Along with his judgement.

The blurry shape in front of him taunted him. Telfer searched for a pulse, blood, warmth, anything, but found none - what creature was this? He snarled and threw the table aside. Angel shut her eyes. People screamed, these boys were serious - people ran.

Telfer's claws reached for the boy's throat, searching still for a pulse, anything to destroy him, keep the vampire from destroying him.

"Telfer STOP IT!" Angel shouted, stumbling back and pulling Malcolm with her. The claws of his other hand snatched the front of her hoodie and threw her aside, onto another table. Her breath came out in small hitches, more scared than hurt, as an empty plate broke on the floor and shot glasses tumbled over.

The boy dropped his camera phone with a clatter when she hit their table. Angel didn't notice, eyes glued on Telfer and Malcolm. "You need to get out of here," she said without looking back, "Right now."

Telfer meanwhile advanced on Malcolm, snatching the fabric of his hoodie and burying his fist in the boy's stomach, grinning.

Why he was fighting had been lost now. Telfer was hungry - and he needed to get everything here, first. The screams and shouts, murmurs, and even the heartbeats all registered as conniving whispers and hisses in his mind. Annoying. In the way of this thing.

Kill, kill, kill.

...but why wasn't there a pulse?

[scribblerrigby]

The food wasn’t quite ready yet, but Laurie had heard the shouting, and knew it was coming from her table. She cautiously pushed the kitchen door open and leaned out to get a better look. Then swore and grumbled something about morons and toning down the testosterone.

Telfer threw the table. Malcolm laughed a weird, wild laugh. "Is that all you got?" But then, the weird, demonic perversion of Telfer charged at him, claws swiping, and he quickly shut up, eyes widening.

Something abruptly jerked him back by the arm, catching him off-guard. Angel. Jesus, why the hell was she still HERE?

“Get BACK, Angel!” he shouted, wild-eyed. You’re gonna’ get hurt, we’re too big, you’re gonna’ SEE me like this -!

Telfer yanked them apart, throwing her into a nearby table. Malcolm yelled; Telfer took advantage of Fin’s temporary distraction, pulled him back by his sweatshirt, and slammed his fist into his stomach. Fin doubled over in pain.

“Okay. STOP STARING. EVERYBODY - OUT. NOW. Don’t worry about paying or anything like that. It’s on us. Really. The police have been called. Just get out!” Malcolm would have laughed; Laurie had found the karaoke microphone. Some of the braver waitresses had come back out from the kitchen, attempting to usher people out quicker. Cameras and camera-phones had begun to pop up around the restaurant, but mostly, people were running, now; some darted clumsily out of the store, tantalizingly terrified. Malcolm resisted the urge to chase them, and hissed in frustration. They were too distracting. It was Telfer he was after, this thing that was coming, kept coming after him with determined confusion, anger and hunger.

He planted his feet, twisted, slammed his shoulder into Telfer’s chest as hard as he could manage, used the opportunity to roll under a table, get out of the way. He wriggled and tore his way out of his hoodie. People kept grabbing it, slowing him down. He didn’t need it, anyway. Not here.

Where was Angel? At another table, nearby. He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill me.

He crouched, then pounced from under his hiding-place, springing at the demon, fingers digging into Telfer’s neck, momentum carrying them both into the bar (the people who had decided to duck behind it frantically stumbled over themselves to re-think their hiding spots). He needed to end this. Open him like a gutted fish. He laughed, throatily, baring pointed teeth, intending to finish this with relish, tear this thing’s throat out. Then he wouldn’t be a bother to anyone else.

And delicious.

[Clairice-Sarah]

Telfer didn't say a word, gave only a shocked grunt as Malcolm ploughed into him. His collarbone made a small pop, which he didn't hear, so much as feel when Malcolm ducked under his sight. He reached up and felt around his shoulder and collar, showing no sign of discomfort when he put the joint back where it belonged.

The other pulses were running out. Telfer looked for Malcolm's red hair among the wash of colours running past. Where did it go?

Claws at the back of his neck--! A snarl ripped out of Telfer's throat as Malcolm flung them both into the bar. Telfer swung his fist backhandedly into Malcolm's locked elbow, clawing through his t-shirt before twisting himself around. His hand squeezed into the flesh of Malcolm's side, the other hand trying to dig it's way into the boy's chest to find his heart.

Giving up - this was tougher than the girl who tried to take him, last time - Telfer bit into Malcolm's shoulder and tore away a chunk of flesh.

He spit it to the floor, shoved Malcolm away from him, eyes bright.

What was this thing? It tasted dead. Why was it attacking?

Angel's sense of self-preservation was extremely broken - something she noted to herself as she pulled off her sweater and tore off the bandages on her left hand. Her right hand shook, as if having a seizure of its own, while the boys brawled. Her fingers curled as best as they could manage around a steak knife.

She ignored the waitresses running out, the people. No one seemed to ever pay attention to her. Maybe that was for the best. She dug into the fresher gashes on her wrist, holding her breath, looking up with huge eyes as Malcolm shoved Telfer into the bar.

Could she even get in there? Between them? Her right hand meanwhile set to sawing through the flesh between around her knuckles and fingers.

Angel gripped the knife harder, if only to still her hand, and slid off the table. If she could just...get Telfer's attention...

"M-Malcolm!" Telfer ripped into him, as if nothing Malcolm did had any effect at all.

"Telfer!" No response.

Telfer spit the pieces of Malcolm's shoulder onto the floor, looking horrified, maniacal... Angel shoved Telfer's shoulder. He swiveled on his foot, eyes darting, to find the offendor.

Angel's fist cracked on his teeth.

"Telfer!" she shouted again, knife still gripped in her other hand. Telfer sunk his fangs into her fingers, and his eyes flickered back and forth from yellow to brown before he roared and stumbled back from her.

"The f*ck--"

"Stop!!" she begged, drawing her bloody hand back. Please, before this gets worse...

Telfer looked down at himself, around the room, then at her, still halfway between forms before hissing a "You!" He didn't wait around. He couldn't be arrested for this. Wouldn't be. No.

No, even if he had to kill something else on the run home.

He just needed to go. He'd get her later. He'd get Red later. Oh, would he ever...Telfer cursed and ran out the door, around the corner of the bar and out of sight.

Angel's knees trembled, before the knife - and herself - fell to the floor.

[scribblerrigby]

The Telfer-demon wasn’t going down without a fight. Before Malcolm knew it, the demon had whirled around and ruthlessly tore into Malcolm’s side, then roughly yanked his hand away and bit a chunk out of Malcolm’s shoulder. Malcolm yelled, grabbed at his own wounds, staring at the piece of himself the demon-thing just spat on the floor. What? Dazed, he pulled his bloodied hand back and stared at it like he’d just contracted leprosy. He was shoved away just as an explosion of blood rocked his senses, enough to send him reeling, confused, but he snapped out of it once Telfer suddenly turned and bolted out the door. Oh, no, you’re not getting away that easily.

“Hey! Get back here!” he shrieked. He tore after him, wincing – ignoring Laurie’s shouts of “Hey, hey – HEY, hold on there, John Cleese!” - before he stumbled and caught himself on the door-frame, nearly doubling over in pain. He pulled off what remained of his t-shirt, hissed through his teeth as he moved his arm, and looked over the damage. Thin films of purplish skin were already beginning to form over the wounds on his chest and shoulder. A mess trailed behind him.

“Oh, gooood. What the fuuuuuccck,” he moaned. He was going to need SO MUCH blood after this.

The same curse took on a higher, more frantic tone when he whirled back around and saw Angel. And the blood.

Laurie caught him, supported him as he stumbled back towards Angel. She was muttering something about how he was a dumb, dumb ass, and started looking over his wounds.

“How does it feel? If you say it’s just a flesh wound and go chasing after that guy again, I will PERSONALLY reach in and scramble that stuff hanging out of your side, there.”

“Feels like a giant douchef*cking ass-sucker just decided to rummage around in my side,” he spat. “Yeah. It feels exactly like that. Use your imagination.” He hissed again as flesh knotted together, his injuries slowly repairing themselves. “This sucks. This all sucks. What about the police?”

“Bluff. Though I’m sure someone actually has, by now.” She nodded to another nearby waitress, a cook, and a lone bartender. “We’re thinking of a good cover story. Got any ideas, let us know…”

“I still say it should be a gas leak,” the cook added, helpfully. Malcolm ignored them, and landed on hands and knees next to Angel.

“Angel…what the fu…” He was kneeling over Angel, now, panicked and confused. He held up her lacerated hand, looked over to the knife. “I mean…jesus! A knife…just…what?” Her hand was already in his mouth before he even realized it.

[Clairice-Sarah]

The pain, throbbing, and stinging set it in as Laurie ran after Malcolm and, afraid that any attempts to touch the blood would end in her painting, did not try to nurse it. She sat lost in a daze, ignored the other Hook employees as she looked over her hand.

She made a squeak and winced when she tried to curl her fingers, realizing belatedly that she'd popped or broken or SOMETHING in her finger when she punched Telfer. Oh god, she punched Telfer.

Well, things were over, to say the least. Coupled with a sad relief was a feeling of utter humiliation, of all the things she let him do to her to only have it escalate into this. Angeline fought back tears. She could do this later. She was bleeding and Malcolm was hurt and the bar looked like a tornado

Malcolm knelt in front of her; she looked up. "It worked, didn't it?" she asked, voice worn and smile hollow. "Ow, ow..." She wasn't bothered by him taking her hand as much as the tenderness in the cuts, bite marks, the now-crooked index finger...

"Careful, I broke a finger," she said, voice barely there now. "Are you okay? I'm sorry." She sighed, he probably wasn't listening. Whatever. He was almost a doctor right? And a vampire. Was this normal? No. Her life wasn't normal. Right now, she didn't care.

"You could just say some psycho blew in here and tore the place apart," Angel suggested, quietly, bitterly. She sighed, felt light headed, though she hadn't had anything to drink and hadn't really lost that much blood, all things considered. Her head fell forward onto Malcolm's good shoulder, and her own shook as she began to cry.

[scribblerrigby]

“It worked, didn't it?”

He looked up from her hand, ignoring the stares of some of the employees, the last of the blood clotting as he finished with a quiet purr.

“Worked?” He laughed weird, choked-up laughter. “You…you punched a demon! You’re…you’re crazy.” Relief and admiration filled his eyes. “You are so crazy.”

"Careful, I broke a finger," she said, voice barely there now. "Are you okay? I'm sorry."

“I’ll be fine in like…a minute,” he grunted. He held her hand, gently, and looked it over. “Yeah…yeah you did. Just try not to move it as best as you can, all right? I’ll splint it up, and we’ll get you someplace where they can look at it right, with X-Rays and stuff.” She punched a demon. He laughed a little to himself. That was pretty badass.

The remaining employees were moving around, now, cleaning up what they could – largely the blood - and arguing in low voices about an agreed-upon story. Laurie tapped Malcolm on the shoulder, gave him a makeshift pack – a handful of ice cubes in a sandwich bag – and shrugged. He brought it to Angel's finger, and held it there.

“Man, after this, I’m just going to go home, grab some AB and some popcorn, and watch the Youtube premiere. “

You’re babbling, he told himself. She doesn’t need that. Not now. He looked downward, silent for a while, still holding the ice on her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, lamely, licking his lips before finally meeting her eyes, again. “I’m sorry for everything. About everything.”

Everything. For a while, he froze, his hands reaching out toward her. This didn’t count as a break-up, did it? It had to, right? Wasn’t a lot of this fault, anyway? Why did he let things get to him – what bothered him? He’d egged the situation on. He hadn’t liked the thought of her with that guy, the guy with the rep, though it wasn’t any of his business.

Yeah, he knew exactly why it had bothered him. But she was okay. This was okay.

He held her, and let her cry.

This was okay.

[Clairice-Sarah]

"I punched a demon, that knows where I live," Angel said quietly against Malcolm's shoulder, reaching to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. Yeah. She was okay. They were alive. This was Bridgeport. It was small, but Telfer could only really move around during the day. She could find good places to be during the day.

She looked around the bar when she pulled back, leaving her left hand to sit on the ice.

"Yeah we should...probably clean that knife up," she said with a frown, looking back at the discarded steak knife. She turned her eyes up to Malcolm. "Are you sure you're okay, do you...need more? I guess...if not I'll help clean up. Pick up dishes or something." Tonight she was taking too much advil and going to bed. And maybe sleep through the whole next day.

Once her wrist was wrapped and she'd helped to distort the image of the bar a little...shuffling tables, erasing video on the discarded phone...a long five minutes of easing her hand into her hoodie sleeve...

"Malcolm, we should probably disappear," Angel said as the light of police cars blinked in the distance. She didn't want to hop the fence through the alley though - probably, she couldn't - where could they go?

Actually, she'd been up at her father's work the other day, trying to get some shots of water-things...which didn't tend to show themselves when she had a camera.

"Dad's work isn't far, we could hang out there til everything quiets down," she offered. "I don't think my key works for the warehouse but the docks should be empty, and the temperature isn't bad..." They weren't going to make it across town with so much commotion on the main streets. "Unless you think that's a bad idea and we should stay?"

Police made her nervous. A police officer could tell the difference between kitten scratches and knife wounds. She didn't want to be in a hospital and she couldn't explain why her left arm was so littered in scratches (and her right not far behind). The demon story would land her loaded up with medication, but so would a false admission to being a cutter.

And she didn't want to walk home alone in the dark, either.

[scribblerrigby]

"I punched a demon, that knows where I live,"

Malcolm bristled at that - she was right, of course: Telfer seemed the vindictive type - and pulled her slightly closer. “If he even thinks about…I won’t let him,” he said, softly, determinedly. “I’ll be ready next time.”

Soon, she pulled back.

"Are you sure you're okay, do you…need more? I guess…if not I’ll help clean up. Pick up dishes or something.”

“Nah, that’s fine. I’m good enough for now. But yeah, I guess we should help out.”

It was a half-truth. He was at least good enough to not randomly find her wrist in his mouth, at any rate. Which was a good thing. Provided nobody else started bleeding, he’d be okay. Though after he splinted Angel’s finger and helped wrap her arm, he still picked up the bloody knife and carried it into the kitchen, and sneaked a few discreet tastes between the seats and the sink.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite 'good enough'…but nobody needed to see that.

The next few minutes were spent picking up dishes, wiping up blood, righting tables and generally downplaying the mess that had resulted.

“Laurie…I’m sorry about all this.” Malcolm frowned as he picked up the tattered and sloppy mess of his shirt before tossing it aside, and zipping on his jacket, instead. Though he didn’t care about the cold, anymore, wandering around during this season, at night, without a shirt wasn’t the best way to avoid attention. “Did you guys decide on a story?”

“It was just a bar fight. There were a lot of people, we didn’t see who started it, but we managed to clear them out. And…yeah. We’ll improvise. No, um, civilians were hurt. Probably mentally scarred for life, but nobody died. We had a tougher time cleaning up after that fight last year.” She raised an eyebrow at Malcolm. “Come to think of it…why is it every time you walk in here, someone tries to kick your pasty butt?”

He was about to make a comeback, when Angel reappeared at his side.


"Malcolm, we should probably disappear," she said. Malcolm glanced out the window, and saw the familiar white-blue-red flashing of a police car, several blocks away. "Dad's work isn't far, we could hang out there til everything quiets down," she offered. "I don't think my key works for the warehouse but the docks should be empty, and the temperature isn't bad...Unless you think that's a bad idea and we should stay?" she added, visibly nervous. He didn't blame her - between all that she had been through tonight, whatever had happened before, and the approaching police, it was all a little overwhelming. Malcolm reached to hold her hand.

“Nah, we should probably go.” He smiled “I’m up for the docks! I…is there anything else we can do? I mean, I kind of hate dumping all of this on you…” he added, to Laurie.

“We asked you to leave. You ran out the door fifteen minutes ago, chasing another guy. Don’t know where either of you are, now - Home, sobering up, if you’re lucky.”

“God bless your heinous life of crime, Laurie.”

“Just get out of here. We’ll talk later.”

Malcolm didn’t like the sound of that, but the approaching police car prevented him from arguing. He grabbed Angel’s hand, and quickly walked with her down the back corridor and out the door. For a moment, he had a wild thought that Telfer could still be outside, waiting around for an ambush, but laughed at how ridiculous that was – Telfer had been anxious to put as much distance between himself and the situation as possible.

He looked around, just in case, then asked, "So...which way to your dad's work?"

[Clairice-Sarah]

"Thanks Laurie," Angel echoed quietly behind Malcolm as he lead her out the back door. She didn't say anything until they were out of hearing distance of the bar. "If we just follow this down this street for a bit, you'll see it," she told Malcolm, turning a corner. Like Malcolm, she worried that Telfer maybe stuck around, and she looked around to make sure they weren't being followed, that no yellow eyes followed them in the dark.

They crossed the parking lot and Angel let go of his hand as they approached the metal gates, smell of seawater and mouldy wood posts filling the air. After some struggle finding her lanyard in her purse, Angel fished out the key and unlocked the gate, ducking under the chain and then holding it open enough for Malcolm to follow too.

She walked out onto the loading dock and sighed, as if having made it to a great destination. Angel sat down cross-legged with her bag in her lap and pulled her hood up over her ears.

"You think I can convince my parents a dog did this?" she asked Malcolm, holding up her hand, inspecting the bandages and the damage. "Do you know any doctors I can see? Doctors that know about this stuff?"

The more she talked, the less she had to think.

"I really wish I had my truck. I hope we fix it, soon."

[scribblerrigby]

Angel held up her hand. Malcolm sat down close, next to her, and took it, lightly.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “I don’t think you could pass any of this off as a dog bite, either. Especially with all of your older scars…” He frowned. “Yeah, you’d definitely have some explaining to do if someone else looks closely at any of this.”

They were sitting close together, knees touching. He had her hand. They were alone.

He groaned at that realization. Every time they were truly alone, something serious was going on. And this time, it was partly his fault. It was frustrating. He had monstered-out and made a scene, but he was still a gentleman, he told himself. He wasn’t Telfer. She needed a friend, now. Not sex. Not a partner. Not any of that.

Not now, anyway.

"I really wish I had my truck. I hope we fix it, soon."

Oh. “Shiiiit…Telfer was going to get you parts for that, right…” He buried his face in his hand, sighed, and leaned back. “I’m a moron, Angel. I’m sorry. If there's any way -any way at ALL - that I could make...all of this up, or help you with anything...well. Let me know, okay?"

He fidgeted, turned to face her again, and looked in her eyes.

"If you ever need a place to go, or anything, Angel, the apartment's always around, too."