Surprised?
Well this was just typical. She'd finally met a guy who was everything she wanted - on paper. He was rich, handsome, had a good job and a nice car. He could keep her in blue boxes for the rest of her life. He seemed to really like her. This here was her ticket out of poverty, her ticket back to the life she was supposed to lead … but there was a catch.
Of course there was a catch. There had to be a catch. She couldn't just meet a nice guy and hit it off and live happily after - there always had to be something.
And this one was boring. Like, majorly boring.
She didn't know what was wrong with her. What did she care if he was boring or not? He was rich and he could buy her pretty things and keep her in a nice home and she wouldn't have to worry about money. She hadn't followed him into that coffee shop for his personality…
And yet here she was, majorly bored and wanting to go home. And worse! In her boredom, her mind kept wandering to … Doyle of all people. Wondering what he was up to, had he managed to convince Angel to go out to a sport's bar? Probably not. Though hanging around the office doing nothing but watch Broody Boy brood would still be more fun than listening to this guy jaw on about weather trends and … soybeans? Was he talking about soybeans?
'God, listen to me - I'm not boring you am I?'
She took a deep breath. 'I don't mind.'
He took that as license to keep on talking. She felt her eyes glaze over...
'So you know what I did? Sold 'em for six and an eighth of a cent. Six and eighth. Can you imagine anything more exciting?'
Her mind went to a happy place, where she was being eaten by a vampire. Better to die snack food than die listening to this guy. She imagined growing old with him - and a shiver ran down her spine. Maybe if she jabbed forks in her eyes it would be easier to stay awake?
He kept on talking.
She stared at him - wishing for death. If this wimp saw a monster he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel she thought to herself.
She smiled and nodded - not listening to a word he said - as she ate her last mouthful and then laid her silverware across her plate, relieved. The waiter would be over soon - he might have something more interesting to say … like an offer to watch paint dry, or an offer to remove her tonsils without anaesthetic. Anything. Please. She just couldn't sit around here while this guy ...
The waiter approached and took her plate, 'shall I bring the dessert menu?' he asked.
Pierce looked at her expectantly.
She couldn't face it. She was kicking herself. This was the best chance she'd had since that fateful day with the IRS. But she couldn't face it. Not for all the blue boxes in all the Tiffany's in all the world.
'You know - I'm not feeling very well,' she heard herself say - cussing herself out even as she said it. 'Could we maybe take a raincheck on the dessert?'
Pierce looked surprised, but agreed - he paid the check and then offered to drive her home. She couldn't face the thought of the most boring man on the planet knowing where she lived, so she asked to be taken back to the office instead.
If Doyle was still there when she got back well… she wouldn't let on what a disaster the whole thing had been. Maybe driving him crazy with jealousy would be a good way to finish up the night. Maybe the whole thing didn't have to be a complete washout.
...
They drove back in near silence - which was such a relief after the pigs and beans talk - and when they arrived outside her work, he offered to walk her to her car - which was awkward because she didn't have one and her telling him her car was here was just a lie to get rid of the guy. But … it seems she was out of luck, she couldn't get rid of him - she wasn't sure what she was gonna do. Pretend it had been stolen? God, that would only drag this night out even longer.
But Pierce wasn't leaving. 'I'm not sure about this neighbourhood…' he said, trotting after her as she tried to march away.
And that was when she was saved. By a seven foot, musclebound, scary, fang faced vampire - who growled at them. 'You're right - it's crappy.'
Then the vampire grabbed hold of her - and she was vaguely aware of Pierce shrieking and running back to his car. Then there was a squeal of tyres, the smell of burning rubber - and she was left alone tussling a giganamous vamp.
Well, this was just great! She'd just suffered through the most boring night of her life and now she was gonna end it by getting eaten. Why did this stuff always happen to her? She bit down as hard as she could on the vampire's arm and then shrieked for help. He let go of her and she stumbled a couple of steps away, but he grabbed her again, and she screamed again.
And then - then - there was … Doyle. He had a crossbow. He was standing at the top of the stairs aiming at the gigantavamp like he actually meant business. Tiny little Doyle, whose whole body was barely the same size as one of this guy's biceps.
'I'm the one you followed here, it's me you want.'
'Stay close,' the vampire laughed, 'you'll get your turn.'
Cordelia continued to struggle in the vampire's grasp. Doyle kept the crossbow aimed but he couldn't get a clear shot, because she was in the way - and she had no idea how they were getting out of this impasse - not unless it involved either them both dying horribly, or them both being rescued by the timely intervention of Angel.
But the Doyle fired the bolt - and it landed in the vampire's shoe, stabbing into its foot. It cried out and threw Cordelia to the side. She fell over and tumbled along the ground. Behind her she could hear the grunts and dull thuds of what sounded like a small Irishman being badly beaten up by a monster twice his size.
There was an even louder thud, and she was aware that the pair of them had fallen down the steps and were now grappling on the sidewalk. Doyle was underneath and he couldn't possibly stand a chance against a vampire that big - he was going to die, and then she was going to die and then …
She looked up as she heard the familiar sound of a vampire turning dusty. Doyle was alone on the path now - lying there, beaten and bruised. But victorious. He had saved them both. Some … how - he had managed it. All by himself. Doyle.
He opened his mouth to speak and she wondered what it was he was going to say; whether he would tell her off for being out alone in the dark, or gloat about his unlikely win, or complain about how much pain he was in. It's not like any of it wasn't earned.
He was looking straight at her, his eyes dark with worry. She looked back, waiting to hear it.
'Are you OK?'
