See Chapter 1 for info & warnings
If you're gone - maybe it's time to go home
There's an awful lot of breathing room,
But I can hardly move.
If you're gone - baby, you need to come home
Cuz there's a little bit of something me
In everything you.
~Matchbox Twenty "If You're Gone"
Angel looked up in the closest expression to surprise anyone was likely to see. "Where's Erin? Is she still sleeping?"
Swallowing past a lump in his suddenly-tight throat, Doyle replied with blatantly false indifference, "Nah, she left before I got up, I guess. She'd said she needed to get back to Sunnydale. She's must've done it."
"Are you, ya know, okay?" Cordelia asked, sounding surprisingly earnest. "I mean, I hated her and all, but..."
"I'm fine. No big deal." He sat down and began reading the nearest magazine, hoping his friends would drop the issue. /"Twenty Ways to Leave Your Lover,"/ Doyle read silently to himself. /I just had to pick up Cosmo, didn't I? What did I ever do to The Powers that Be? They sure seem to be nursing a helluva grudge./
Cordelia held out a mug of some dark, murky liquid. "Coffee?" she offered hopefully.
"Only if it has whisky in it," Doyle replied with a forced grin.
She cocked her head and peered into the mug. "Honestly, I don't know what's in it. There could be whisky."
At that, Doyle did laugh. It hurt to feel happy, so he let the smile fall. "That's okay, Delia, I think I can live without it."
"If you say so," Cordelia responded with a shrug, dumping the coffee onto the plant she'd purchased for her desk. To "liven the place up," she'd told Angel. "Personally, I think shopping is the best cure for depression."
"Look, I'm not depressed, alright?" Catching Angel's wary gaze and the flash of hurt in Cordelia's eyes, Doyle realized he'd put more force behind the words than he intended. "I'm gonna get some air." Without another word, he stepped out the door and headed for the nearest bar.