lucetilogs | i can't help but wonder, what would jimmy buffet do?

Entry tags:

i can't help but wonder, what would jimmy buffet do?

Who:

quippable
What: More drinking shenanigans.
When: November 19th, early evening.
Where: CH6 R38, and then to some bar later on.
Summary: Said shenanigans are Cordy's bad idea this time around.
Rating: PGish to start off with, I assume?

Only a few hours until sunset. Normally, this would be about the time he was rolling out of bed and starting to go through his morning routine, but there was nothing normal about Angel right now. Not that there ever was, and there's something to be said for him considering his vampirism to be normal while the humanity the Malnosso has bestowed upon him is regarded as an unwanted affliction rather than a return to a state that he was robbed of when Darla killed and turned him all those years ago. Days are spent mostly indoors, partly out of habit, and partly because there's nothing he wants to engage in beyond the sanctity of the apartment walls; so, unless there's some errand to be ran, the former vampire can be found indoors, either with a book, some sketch he's working on, or going through some training exercise.

The latter usually requires all the furniture be pushed back to one corner of the room to give him enough space to do so without breaking something, but this evening, everything's where it should be. Training's off the table, and the man's instead stretched out on the couch with a book in hand - something Machiavellian - content to be lost in its pages before he needs to pick up a sword and see to his nightly patrol. While the patrolling isn't necessarily needed, what with other parties taking up that mantle as well, it's routine at this point. Gives him something to do and contributes to some sense of structure where there otherwise is none.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cordelia's bored. Without the cases - including the side-ones, like teaching Fred the ways of living like a civilised person - and the technology back home, Cordelia can only read the Luceti guide Buffy had given her so many times before she started to get sick of it. As much fun as reading and sticking her nose into the crook and crannies of Angel's apartment sounds, she's itching to get out. Becoming reacquainted with this Angel - trying to fit the newer pieces with the old - can wait.

Besides, here's Angel, being Angel-y, when, really, he's far from the man he is back at home. Ignoring time differences, Angel has a beating heart that comes with a variety of perks. She feels as though they should take advantage of this. Or, she should take advantage of this. What kind of friend would she be if she didn't encourage him to break out of his vampire shell and embrace the human life?

She finds him on the couch with a book. Lifting his legs up - with difficulty, he feels like he's made out of cement - slides underneath them, before lowering said legs and giving them a hard pat. "You sure do know how to show a girl a good time," she looks pointedly at him, eyebrows raised.

Angel hide a smile behind the book when she lifted his legs up, pretending not to notice such an obvious act as she settled onto the couch with his legs now draped across her lap. He didn't lower the book down to his chest with the pages still open - the intention to continue reading clear - until she patted him and spoke up. "Ow," he feigned with false pain, the sting of her hand barely registering through the fabric of the dark, nearly black jeans he wore.

He lifted a brow of his own at her raised ones, his clearly confused and not quite following her meaning. "...I'm not showing you anything."

"Exactly!" She shifted on the couch, turning to face him. She raised her hands up, as though, hallelujah, the boy has a brain - although, Cordelia should know that there was a chance that Angel wasn't even on the same page as her.

She settled her hands on his legs, for a lack of a better place to put them. "Here we are, two humans - sort of - and we're doing nothing. You're reading," she made a show of rolling her eyes, as if to say that that's so incredibly boring (which it was, according to Cordelia), "and I'm trying not to yawn for the twentieth time in the span of thirty minutes."

Maybe she had to spell it out for him. His idea of fun didn't even touch the definition of it. She grinned widely, "Let's go out."

A brain, yes. The ability to follow Cordelia's train of thought? Only sometimes. This was not one of those times. As well as Angel knew her - better than himself on some days, he felt - she often did things that breezed by him and didn't quite click. He figured that was more a girl thing than anything else. Women. Forever unpredictable. He'd never full understand them. Never did, never will.

"It's a very good book," he countered. One he'd read hundreds of times before, yet never tired of. No-one had managed to master wit quite like Machiavelli, and it kept the charm and appeal of his works intact even after centuries of exposure to them.

He could see why she was bored, though. Cordelia was a busy body, which drove him up a wall sometimes, but he couldn't really blame her in this instance. There wasn't much to do in Luceti unless you were involved with one or more of the goings on in this place - which he wasn't. Why would he? Social and Angel didn't exactly belong in the same sentence, and while helpful did, his brand of assistance didn't quite fit. Not that he had tried to apply it at all, for time and situation had all but forced him to deal with this own personal turmoil before even thinking of taking on the problems of others.

"Out," he repeated, casting a glance at the door, then shifting his gaze back to her. "Go out. As in you and me. Out. Out there?" Again, he looked to the door.

She couldn't decide whether his question was endearing or not. He really was - socially - lost without her. "Out there. As in, outside the apartment and it's building. There might even be walking in the snow."

If Cordelia was getting out of the apartment, she was getting out of the apartment - very far away, possibly to the other side of Luceti kind of far away. "I've walked to Good Spirits and back a few times. I think it's about time I had a partner." She wasn't planning on going to Good Spirits - the destination hadn't exactly been chosen, considering she wasn't really aware of half the possible places a temporarily ex-vamp and possibly (hopefully) ex-seer could go - but she wouldn't mind a drink at this very moment.

She patted his leg consolingly. "And I'm sure the book will be very good when we come back."

His eyes narrowed at that particular suggestion, resisting the urge to extract his legs from her lap and walk away simply because he rather liked the position he was in. Sulking off would accomplish nothing, so he'd settle for scowling at her and crossing his arms over his chest like a child who'd just been told he had to go spend time with that aunt who pinches cheeks.

"Buffy works there."

"Then pick a place. We're going out and there's no way you're weasling your way out of it." Except for that little tidbit. Cordelia wanted to avoid any and all possible scenes when it came to those two, especially after what Buffy had told her the day she went to Good Spirits. She had a feeling that if they were in the same room as each other, they'd attack.

This evening was meant to be something fun, free of spoilers and dramas she would never get the full story behind. And she wanted to spend some time doing something different with Angel. Him being human gave them the opportunity to do so.

Edited 2011-11-20 13:04 (UTC)

More than likely, Angel would get more possessive than anything else. In his mind, Cordelia was his person and he wasn't so willing to share. He'd been almost counting on the girl he loved and the girl he used to love not getting along, for it would only further solidify that, but they'd proved him wrong and gone for the opposite. While on some level, he was okay with - and even appreciative of - the two having one another to talk to now about things only former Sunnydalers could understand, there was still that knee jerk disapproval. And more importantly, jealousy.

"Seventh Heaven," he suggested without missing a beat. "It's a restaurant. Never ate at it before, but I hear it's good. There's a bar, and a night club upstairs."

"Well, Seventh Heaven it is." She pats his legs, wanting him to actually make a move to either get dressed or go to the door. Cordelia wasn't fussed where they went - to Good Spirits or to a place completely new to both of them - just as long as they got out. That was the aim of this plan. "I could do with a couple of drinks." The bar sounded like a good idea to her.

She'd suggest checking out the night club, but she thought that maybe that would be pushing it. Cordelia wanted a night out - mostly quiet - where she could spend time with Angel just being somewhat normal. As normal as they could manage. And hopefully avoid the spoiler trap while theyw were at it.

He waited, assuming that she'd shove his legs off her lap and give him the go ahead to find shoes - because Angel is not the preening type who would go check himself out in the mirror before stepping outside. Not being in possession of a reflection for a couple centuries takes the vanity out of going out. When she didn't budge, he finally got the hint and mumbled a quick 'oh, sorry' as he lifted his legs off hers and shifted into a sitting position beside her.

"You have twenty minutes to get ready if you want to change or do your hair," he told her, making his best stern face at her. "No more than that or I go back to reading and you're on your own for entertainment."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the couch. As she made her way to her room, she didn't bother looking back at him as she said, "Has anyone ever told you how boring you are?" Suck the fun out of the best part of going out, Angel. She closed the door with a noticeable click.

And she came back within the twenty minutes - perhaps a few seconds over time - wearing jeans and a dark grey jacket, her hair tied back. Cordelia figured she'd continue ranting about him being a complete Debbie Downer. It was one thing that didn't venture into spoiler territory. She hoped. "You can't expect any girl to look nice with only twenty minutes." She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a pointed look. "Has being my friend taught you nothing about women?"

"You. Several times," he said to the shut door - more mumbled, really, as he deposited his face into the palm of his hands. He groaned, wondering how bad of an idea this was going to end up being. Not the going out with Cordelia part, for they'd done that many times over the years - as friends, of course, and this was still a just friends thing, especially on her end as far as he knew - but the I could do with a couple of drinks part.

He'd had a couple of drinks not too long ago and the hangover that resulted from the binge drinking had been killer. People had been pissed off and insulted by his drunken slandering, half of which he couldn't even remember, he was so trashed. Drinking had been something he struggled with in life, finding the escape from a reality he didn't want to be a part of too good and worth the people he angered in the process. Like other bar patrons. Like friends. Like his father.

When she stepped back out, he jumped up - literally - and made a b-line for where he'd left his shoes. His eyes were rolled at her comment as he slipped them on, tongue bit down upon to keep himself from muttering something about how he'd never learn anything about women because they were all infuriating, her included. Buffy especially.

"I thought You looked nice already, but being your friend has taught me that just because I think you look nice, doesn't mean you think that you do."

Edited 2011-11-20 23:42 (UTC)

"Be still, my heart," Cordelia mock-gasped - perhaps some of her best acting to date - and slapped her hand against her chest. "I think you've actually learned something." Teasing aside, Cordelia smiled appreciatively at his compliment. Regardless of his inability to get her - or her needing more than twenty minutes to get ready and how that's important, since Cordelia thought that he was possibly the only person who really did get her most of the time out of their little gang - Angel knew the right thing to say even if he wasn't aware of this little gift of his.

"I'm going to take a guess and say we've got a long walk ahead of us," she said, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall to her sides. She was doing more walking than she ever did back in L.A. and Pylea combined. "You are aware you live far away from everything, right?" The shops, the bars, the clothes - and the people. While walking to Good Spirits and to the cafe to meet Buffy, she realised how isolated Community House 6 was. She understood why he lived near the Battle Dome. It seemed like the only thing in Luceti where he could really be himself. But it really made her wonder whether or not Angel went beyond his usual routine - practice kicking ass and then go out and patrol and kick literal ass. Surely, there were shops and other things to do around here than sit inside all day and patrol all night.

Angel shot her a look for that sarcastic remark of hers, hiding well the fact that it did kind of sting a little for reasons she wasn't aware of and would remain unaware of as long as he had his way. He paid attention - close attention, actually. Even if ninety percent of the conversations around the point in time she hailed from were comprised her talking with him feigning something along the lines of annoyance and disinterest, he always listened. Whether he showed it or not, Angel was a very attentive person and knew a lot more about people than he let on.

"No car here," he said with a shrug, biting down on the urge to lament the absence of his garage full of cars. He was allowed to miss some of the perks that came with being CEO of Wolfram & Hart's Los Angeles branch, wasn't he? And those were really nice cars. And they'd been his. All of them.

He shrugged again. "You know me. I like my solitude." And being as far away from Buffy as possible. If asked, he wouldn't deny that factoring in to his choice of residence.

Oh, that look. Cordelia was very fond of it.

The lack of technology would eventually drive her insane. She could feel it. "Don't remind me," she mumbled. Cordelia didn't think she'd ever get over the lack of cars here. Even though she didn't drive a lot back home - the risk of visions making her cause an accident was a big reason - the walking was going to take some time getting used to. And considering Angel lived so far away from anything, she predicted this would take a lot of time.

She walked towards the door. Angel and solitude were like a married couple. One was not without the other. It was something Cordelia had always hoped to somehow break - make him spend a little less time with himself and his broody thoughts and a little extra time with the team - and it seemed like that in three years time, she wouldn't have made a dent. "Sometimes even Batman needs to leave the Batcave." Opening the door, she gestured with a wave of her hand that he go through it first, "After you."

The sad, ironic thing was that her efforts had paid off. Angel had stepped out of his box, he'd spent time with the gang outside of cases and missions - but of course, that had been when they were all still alive. They were all dead and gone now, something Angel couldn't and wouldn't tell her. He didn't have the heart to bring her down like that by telling her of the extent of his loneliness and of the deaths of people who were her friends, too. It wasn't his place to shatter whatever aspirations she had for the future like that.

"No," he said, taking hold of her wrist and pulling it - gently - away from the doorframe. Angel held it back instead, hand on her shoulder as he gave her a little push towards the hall. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him, not that he could see with her back to him, and did as he had gently pushed. She turned around in the hall and waited for him. "You know, sometimes I forget you are the perfect gentleman." It probably helped that he came from a time period where that's all everyone knew. It always made her feel nice when someone did something as small as that - and that someone was usually him. "It's nice to know that doesn't change in three years."

It's might've been taught and encouraged when he was growing up, but that didn't mean behaving like a gentleman was practiced. The mannerisms were still like second nature to him, easily able to fall back into place when he needed them to, but even when he was alive, he'd shrugged them off and behaved roguishly where he should've been keeping up appearances. It made him something of a hypocrite when it came to his mocking of the way modern men carried themselves, when he was far from being the poster ~~child~~ demon for the perfect gentleman.

Still, he was quite capable and offered an arm to her after he shut and locked the door behind them.

"Not everything's changed. Come on, let's go."

Cordelia looped her arm with his, pulling him a bit close as they descended the stairs.

"So, what do you do when you're not patrolling or avoiding sunbaking?" She wanted to know what kind of tour guide he'd be if she made him take her out and show her the sights of Luceti. Cordelia just wanted to know how much of a recluse he was being. "Got any favourite spots we could check out later?"

"Read, draw," he answered and tacked on belated, "brood," because he knew that she knew him well enough to know he spent a good portion of his time sitting the dark, skulking.

As for favorite spots? There weren't any. Not really. He'd made a point not to really let himself like any of the spots in Luceti. It would be like finding a corner of hell enjoyable or picking his favorite spot in Fred's cave back in Pylea. Somewhere you got stuck and weren't meant to be, so why stop and smell roses you weren't supposed to be smelling in the first place? Nevermind picking them and putting them in a vase to admire.

In response, he simply shook his head. "I don't really care much for this place, to be completely honest. I actually kind of hate it here. Hate doesn't really make finding favorite spots."

She listened with her head ducked slightly to make sure she didn't miss a step. She cracked a smile at 'brood'. If anyone could win the award for best brooder, it'd be him, hands down.

Her brows furrowed as he told her he hated this place. She had to wonder why. Was it the Malnosso? The spoilers? She hadn't been here long enough to decide which side of the fence she was on.

Cordelia glanced up at him and asked softly, "Do you want to go home?"

"My s--" My son is there, he almost said on impulse, the answer to that question always an honest one and one he would've answered with what he bit down on had he been speaking to any other person. But this was Cordelia, who didn't yet know her champion slept with Darla and got a kid out of it. Angel knew he was going to have to tell her at some point (and some point soon at that), but tonight was not the time for that.

Tonight was about making life in Luceti not as dull as he painted it, and regardless of whether or not he still believed it to be disenchanting and without any of the sparks required to hold his attention, he would make it seem so for her. Just because he hated it didn't mean he wanted her to.

He cleared his throat. "I mean, of course. My friends, my team - they're back home and so is my mission. I can't protect LA and fight for the Powers if I'm here. I'm not a Champion here."

"Did you ever think that maybe you were brought here to have a break?" In her opinion, Angel definitely needed a breather from the shit fest of L.A. Everything was exploding one after the other; from losing Doyle to her visions to Darla making her grand return to her being zapped into Pylea and Buffy's resurrection. And all the crap that was bound to happen in three years time. Their life was a huge rollercoaster that they couldn't get off of. It was dizzying.

"Every Champion deserves a hiatus. And from what I hear, time stops back home. It'll be like you were never gone when Oz sends you home." Which, she felt conflicted about. A part of her wanted to go back home to her friends - and Angel back there - but another wanted to stay here. It felt like Pylea all over again. She was just waiting for the Com-Shuk and catch to rear it's ugly head.

Her optimism brought a sad smile to his face that he tried to fashion into something a bit more sincere and less heartbreaking. "I don't get vacations." And didn't deserve them, as far as he was concerned. If he did, he would've packed his bags and gotten the hell out of California and the North American continent altogether after hell was undone and LA restored.

"Thank God for that." Else he'd have to go through the 'you were gone' song and dance again with Connor and that was a hurdle he thought they were past. His son has enough abandonment issues without some wing happy crazy land adding to them by stealing his father away from him, regardless of whether or not Connor actually needed his father right now. Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Angel needed him. Either way, the pause was at least appreciated in a sea of things that weren't.

She knew that very well. She sometimes wondered if Angel knew how to take a vacation. The times he'd left them for solitude had left her wondering exactly what he was up to. She didn't really think that they counted as vacations. "Remind me to order you a drink with an umbrella." Cordelia was going to make sure he had half of a vacation here. He needed to relax and quit brooding.

"You can say that again. Imagine what it'd be like if I was gone for two years." She grinned, "You guys would be completely lost without me." Possibly literally, when it came to the visions. But it went both ways. She knew she'd be lost without the mission and her family. She'd felt it in Pylea and it was a feeling she never really wanted to experience in the near future.

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