"You can't keep doing that, you know." Cordelia said as she turned on the light.
Doyle flinched away from it as if it had physically struck him.
"What's that, Princess?" he slurred, blinking against the brightness and his hangover.
Cordelia's frown lessened somewhat. She knew that calling her "Princess" was supposed to be sarcastic… Only it never really sounded that way when it came from him.
"What's that? That's what!" she said, pointing to the half empty bottle in front of him. "You can't keep doing that. This is a business for God's sake!"
"Thought it was more for human's sake." He said with a bleary-eyed grin. It hurt to smile but gaining points with the beautiful Cordelia was worth the effort.
"You have drool on your chin." She told him with a look of disgust he was sure she had previously reserved only for cockroaches.
Oh well done. Maybe you'll get lucky and throw up on her before the morning's out. He thought, wiping his chin with his hand.
"What are you doing here so early anyway?" she asked as she made her way to the coffeemaker. "Hiding out from loan sharks?"
"Not at all." Doyle said, straightening up a bit. The room tilted sharply for a moment then righted itself. "Well, it's not all the reason anyway. I sent Angel out last night and I was waiting for him to come back."
Cordelia studied him for a moment. "That's kind of… nice." She said finally.
Doyle straightened up a bit more. "Really? I mean, yeh, it is. I mean, sure I'm not the heroic type and all but I wanted to make sure that he made it back. Because… I sent him out. We're a team you know. We have to work together or it just doesn't work."
"Hmmm. Well I hate to break it to you, but considering it's 10 am, Mr. 'Can't Get A Tan' should be down in the Batcave sleeping it off by now. Otherwise…" she shrugged as if her meaning should be obvious.
"Oh." Doyle said softly, slumping back in the chair.
The girl definitely knew how to give a reality check.
"So… uh…. is he….?"
"Downstairs?" Cordelia poured herself a cup of coffee from the still brewing pot and sat down at her desk. "Car is where he usually parks it."
Doyle sighed. "Good. He took the car so…. And you know, 10 am is not considered by most to be 'early'."
Cordelia looked at him over her cup. "Tell me something, did you become a raging alcoholic before or after you started getting visions?"
"Hey now!" Doyle protested, wincing at the volume of his own voice. "I'm not a raging anything!"
Cordelia raised an eyebrow at the bottle in front of him. "Half a bottle of cheap whiskey says different."
And what would you say if you saw the two empties under the desk, Princess?
"Cheap? I'll have you know that this was not cheap!"
Sad, boyo. Very very sad. His inner voice informed him.
Cordelia made a dismissive sound through her nose.
"Ok, sorry. None of my business." She flipped a lock of her long, dark hair over her shoulder and pretended to be interested in the file in front of her.
Doyle stared at her.
You can't let her think that way about you man! Say something!
"The visions are… pretty painful." He said finally.
After a moment she looked up. "That's obvious." She said. "But… Are they that bad? To the point where you have to…" she gestured at the bottle.
Doyle shrugged. "It helps. It's better than some of the more drastic things I've thought about. A lot better actually." He grinned at her. "Drinking isn't so horrible after all."
"I've drunk at parties Doyle, this isn't the same." She told him. "You're saying that the visions are so painful that you drink until you pass out and that makes it better? So why do it? Why be the PTB's messenger boy?"
Doyle raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say that I drink because of the visions… I mean they're not the only reason. But it does help when they come. And the visions aren't under my control, darlin'."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Sure but did you ever think about what would happen if you didn't pass on the messages? Maybe they would fire you. Get someone else to do it."
Doyle gaped at her like she'd just grown another head. "I don't think you… That is to say… I can't get fired! This isn't a job that just gets handed to someone. Ok, it is, but there's a reason it gets handed to that person. I get the visions so that Angel can do his hero thing. Them, and the pain they bring, are the price I pay."
"For what though? I know why Angel's doing this. What beef could The Powers That Be have against some regular human guy that's on the same level as 'Angelus' bad?"
Uh oh.
Doyle cleared his throat. "Uh, well it's… complicated." He told her. "I … I don't think it's the same level. I don't think it works that way. I…let's just say, I deserve this."
Maybe this is a good time to tell her. She accepts Angel and he's a vampire. You're just a half-breed demon. What's the worst that could happen?
Cordelia stared at him.
She's waiting for you to say something! Do it man, do it!
Doyle drew a long breath.
"I…."
"Ok." Cordelia said and turned her gaze back down at her folder.
"Ok?"
"Yeh." She raised her eyes again. "Look, you did something, sometime, and now you get the visions that send Angel off to do his thing. I don't know what exactly Angel did back in the powder wig days but I'm ok with not knowing. I'm ok with not knowing your deal too."
Doyle sighed. "Ok." He said with a smile. Standing up, he started slowly toward the coffeemaker.
"You're kind of like Angel in a way." She said suddenly.
"Oh? How's that?"
"In that 'I'm so tortured and repentant' way."
"Really? Well… I never thought of myself as 'tortured' but…"
"Yeh… It's kind of pathetic. " She said.
"Oh. Uh, but still, I'm in good company." Doyle said.
"Sure. Except Angel is taller, better looking, and has a better body. So, on him it's more tragic than pathetic. Still, same kind of vibe."
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmmm. Maybe it's because you're both Irish."
Doyle paused for an instant then nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
"That must be it." He murmured.