A Scowling Cloud of Black Gloom
When they returned with their coffees, Buffy was long gone and Angel was down in his bat cave. The office window had been smashed - and Doyle left Cordy freaking out about the expense to go and see how Angel was doing.
Not good.
To put it bluntly. Monosyllabic - and only then after much coaxing; he kept his back turned, spoke in grunts and just kept hitting things, well - the punching bag. He wanted to be alone.
Doyle left him to it. He got it - he recognised the heartache, after all he'd suffered a lost love recently too ...
