Here she is. 1481 Hyperion Avenue.

The old building looms in front of her; bleak and elegant, worn and statuesque.

Beautiful, really, in its way. She never noticed the first time she was here.

For a moment she thinks of knocking, but discards the thought with her next breath. It's a business and a public residence besides; knocking would be stupid.

So she pushes the door open - it's lighter than it ever was in her memories - and walks inside. None of her uncertainty shows in her step, any more than in her expression.

She's greeted by warm air, thick with dust and history. It fits Angel as much as the exterior.

She hasn't seen him for a few months. Even the calls have stopped; they've had no contact at all. She wants it, one more time before she leaves. To know it's the last time while she lives it. She's been denied that too many times.

For a moment she surveys the lobby in quiet solitude, and it's almost calming. Perhaps this wasn't as strange a place for a detective agency as she'd thought. Too soon, two familiar voices wind together down one of the adj? staircases.

"Do you think we should have left them alone?" Male, faintly worried with a distinct British accent. Wesley.

"What's she gonna do, impale him with a taco?" Female, fondly exasperated and undeniably Californian. Cordelia.

"That's not what I – "

"She likes Gunn, she'll…be…Kate." She can see them clearly now, though both have stopped before reaching the floor. Cordelia's eyes go wide before her expression becomes guarded; Wesley just looks mildly surprised, though she can almost see him sorting through possible reasons and solutions.

"…Hi." Her voice sounds timid to her own ears, and it makes her fists clench in her pockets.

Cordelia looks her up and down, wary and suspicious and Kate wishes she could blame her.

"Isn't it a bit scorching to be wearing a sweater?" she asks coolly.

"The bikini top didn't match." Sarcasm and honestly in tandem; she's been packing rather haphazardly. It's been years since she's had too.

"Is – "

"Angel's on vacation," Wesley interrupts, curt but not rude. She doesn't know how he manages that.

"Angel takes vacations?" His cool expression softens somewhat, the hint of a smile wavering beneath his glasses.

"It's more of a retreat, actually. He's received some troubling news, I'm afraid." Cordelia discreetly elbows him in the side – or she seems to think it's discreet, at any rate – but he simply rolls his eyes at her.

They remind her of siblings. She wonders if that makes Angel the father, and she barely manages to quell the smirk. Laughter is rarely an issue anymore.

"Ah. I'm…sorry to hear that." She knows she doesn't sound as genuine as she feels, but Wesley nods and maybe he's more perceptive than she thought.

She rarely stands for awkward silence unless she can use it to her advantage, so Kate turns back towards the doors for the last time.

"I'll just…" She pauses, looking back at Wesley over her shoulder.

"When he gets back."

"Yes?"

"Tell him I'm glad I knew him."