Two am and the white alabaster stadium still glowed. Gunn swore if he looked at it out of the corner of his eye, it pulsed. "That building's just wrong."
Angel winced; Gunn narrowed his eyes.
"What's your connection?"
Angel didn't bother answering.
"So it's named the Ang—"
Angel shot him a look before hunching in on himself.
"Wait, weren't you all souled in the twenties? What do you do to piss off the Foursquare lady?"
"Saved her life."
Gunn stared, open mouthed.
Angel barked a bitter laugh. "No good deed…"
"Damn, Cordy wasn't exaggerating. Your issues do have issues."