*I had visions, I was in them
I was looking into the mirror
To see a little bit clearer
The rottenness and evil in me
Through fingertips and memories (?)
I can't forget the curves of your body
And when I feel a bit naughty
I run it up the flagpole and see
Who still looks, but no-one ever does
I'm not sick, but
I'm not well
And I'm so hot
Cause I'm in hell*
*Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta*
Upon arriving home, Angel led Bryan to the house and unlocked the door. Instantly that gigantic dog came barreling toward them, and Angel knelt down to give the joyous canine a hug and a scratch. When she stood, the dog fixed Bryan with a glare, but didn't growl. Angel seemed amused. "I see you've already met Takeru."
Bryan's eyes never left the dog. "How would you know that?"
Her eyes twinkled. "He's not growling at you. He has a good memory. If I tell him you're my friend, then he'll tolerate you. He only understands Japanese commands, though."
"Gee, thanks," he muttered.
"Tenshiii!!!" The nasal voice rang out. Bryan winced at the tone. Angel clapped her hands to her ears, while Takeru flattened his and whined softly. The tone itself was comparable to nails on a chalkboard, or screeching metal. It actually HURT to listen to it.
The short Japanese man called Kenji came storming out of the living room. "Tenshi! Where is my dinner? You are late!" He seemed to take no notice of Bryan.
Angel's good mood disappeared instantly. "Why didn't you make your own dinner?"
"That is your job!"
"Not tonight. Fix a microwave dinner or something. I don't feel like cooking."
Kenji stamped one foot irritably. "I told you to fix my dinner! Stupid girl!"
Big mistake. Angel narrowed her eyes, and fixed him with an intense glare. "And I told you to make your own food. It's nine o'clock, for Christ's sake. Surely you can operate a microwave, Mr. Computer Repairman."
Kenji returned the glare, but it was nowhere near as intense as hers. "I say obey me! Fix my dinner!"
Bryan stepped in. "Hey, jackass, she said she's tired. Order a damn pizza or something."
Angel gave her brother a surprised look. "Why, thank you, Bryan. That was the nicest thing that's happened to me all day. Just for that, I'll warm up some leftover casserole for you or something."
"And what about me?" Kenji whined.
Angel stared intently at him, and Kenji shrank back involuntarily. "Nothing for you, asswipe."
Kenji's voice became a gargle of pure rage as Takeru and Bryan followed Angel into the kitchen. Angel filled the dog's dry feed and water dishes before browsing through the refrigerator. "What'll it be, lasagna or beef stew?" Her comment was directed at Bryan, who had seated himself at the kitchen table.
"Both, if you don't mind. I'm fucking starved."
"No problem."
Twenty minutes later, they were both seated at the table. Angel was halfway through her second portion of lasagna, but was observing with speechless awe as Bryan scraped the last of the cheesy Italian goodness out of the pan. The beef stew had already been completely cleaned out. When he was finished, he looked pointedly at her still-unfinished portion. "You gonna eat that?"
"My God! How many stomachs do you have?"
"Hey, I told you I was hungry. Got any more?"
"Not tonight. I'll go shopping tomorrow, though."
He looked disappointed. Then, "Do you have any beer around here?"
Her voice took on an amused note. "No. I'm underage, you remember, and Kenji doesn't drink." The amusement turned to bitterness. "I'd almost prefer a drunken foster father to him."
"So, why do you put up with him anyway? I mean, I'd have killed him a long time ago," he said offhandedly.
"Much as I'd like to kill him, I can't." Her tone was idle, almost bored, but her face told him that she'd like nothing better than to play out that scenario.
"Why not?" He pushed his plates aside, and rested his chin on one balled-up fist. She gave him an odd look.
"Because I'd be the only suspect. There's nobody for me to pin it on, and there's only one person that I know, besides you, that might alibi for me. But he's not a liar. So, if Kenji dies, I would go to jail until I was thirty-something, at least. Not something I want to do."
Bryan smirked. "Jail doesn't bother me."
Angel looked up. "Is that because you used to be a cop, or something?"
The smirk disappeared. "Yeah, it is."
"I was wanting to ask you about that. Seeing as you remember your past, and I don't, I was hoping you'd tell me a bit about yourself." It was her turn to push her plate aside, and she folded her arms on the table. She took a light reading of him, and his mind was filled with bitterness and regret. He really didn't want to talk about it. Almost like he was hiding something.
Bryan hesitated. "Like I already said, my memory's a bit foggy about my first years. I remember signing up for the police academy, after high school. Did real good, too. Top of my class. Joined the force as soon as I graduated. Didn't have a partner until about two and a half years ago, and that was after I joined up with Interpol."
"Interpol. You mean the International Police Force?"
"Yep. I was an undercover detective for two years. Busted some pretty big drug dealers, too."
"Sweet! I think I might do that, when I get out of high school. It sounds fun."
"Do what? Be a cop?" Bryan was dubious.
"Yeah. Either that or the military. I could be an Army Ranger, or a Navy SEAL. Those guys are the best of the best. And so am I, at everything I've ever done."
Bryan decided to throw in a little brotherly humor. "The pay is shit. I knew gas station owners that made more money than I did."
"It's not about the money. It's about being able to legally use the skills I have. Keyword being 'legally.'"
"And what exactly would those skills be?"
She gave him an odd look, and leaned back in her chair. "I can kick your ass, that's one thing. I know a lot about hand-to-hand combat with any kind of weapon. I'm pretty good with guns, too. Kenji has actually done something useful, and taught me a shitload of stuff about computers. I've hacked the school's system at least five times." She grinned.
Bryan digested this fact. "That's illegal, you know."
She smirked. "I know. So arrest me, then."
He sneered at her, but didn't reply. Her eyes twinkled as she stood, and began gathering dishes to start washing them. As she washed, she asked him another question. "Did you enjoy being a cop, then?"
He had to think a moment before answering. "Yeah, I guess I did. The pay was shit, as I already told you. My apartment was probably smaller than this kitchen. And this is a big kitchen." He looked at her, and smirked. "It was my sworn duty to bring order and justice to the community," he intoned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "There was a lot of politics involved, though. I wasn't allowed to hit people once I'd cuffed them. So, I always made it a point to beat them into submission BEFORE I cuffed them."
Angel had to smile at this. "See? Sounds like fun."
His thin mouthed stretched into a tight smile. "It is fun, until you find out that the person you're chasing happens to have a knife or a gun." He pointed to the ever-present scar on his face.
"Is that why you quit? You were tired of getting cut and shot at?" Angel's face was a mask of seriousness.
Bryan, however, gave a short, dry laugh. "Yeah, that's exactly why I quit. Near-death experiences aren't exactly my idea of fun."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, she asked the burning question. "How did you survive getting shot like that?"
Bryan's face instantly became a stony mask. He almost said that he HADN'T survived, but stopped just in time. What could he tell her? She would know if he lied, but he couldn't exactly tell her the truth, either.
A heavy silence descended. "I didn't survive. I mean, obviously my body got me through it, but..." he trailed off, and looked at the enraptured Angel. "I was dead inside. After I got shot, I stopped feeling things."
"What do you mean?" Angel's voice was quiet.
"I stopped feeling. Some of my memories got wiped, for some reason. Most of all, I realized that I stopped feeling emotions. I can't remember the last time I was happy, or sad." His voice was low, and gravelly. "I just... stopped."
Angel was silent, and Bryan noticed that her eyes were unusually bright and glittery. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It was none of my business."
"You're damn right it was none of your business. I tried really hard to forget that. I don't even know why I told you. Must be those beers I had at the bar."
He stood, and towered over her. They stared at each other for a moment. "Gimme your car keys."
"Why?"
"Because I wanna go get some beer."
"Bryan... I said I was sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" he snapped.
Another heavy silence. Then, Angel reached into her pocket and gave him the keys to her car. Go right when you get to the end of the road. Hang a left at the second light. There's an all-night convenience store." Her voice was just as bitter as his.
He grabbed the keys and walked out the door, leaving Angel alone at the kitchen table. For a moment she sat there, tears brimming in her eyes when a cold, wet dog nose thrust itself at her bare arm. She yelped involuntarily, then glanced down at her adoring pet. Takeru rested his massive head in her lap and looked up at her with his adoring, pleading liquid brown eyes. Angel sighed, and started scratching behind his ears. The dog closed his eyes in bliss. "You always know how to cheer me up, dog," she said quietly, a slow grin spreading across her face. The dog regarded her for a moment, then closed his eyes again and leaned into her obliging hand.
Talking to her dog was one of the few things that cheered Angel up. She had gotten the dog as a puppy, two years ago. The year she arrived in America from Japan, an event she barely remembered. Kenji almost hadn't gotten the dog, but once she'd convinced him that the typical American family had a dog, Kenji had nearly gotten a speeding ticket driving to the nearest pet store.
That was the key to getting around Kenji's controlling impulses. Convince him that the typical American family had this or that, and she would have it, to an extent. He still treated her like a slave, but at least she had a car and an allowance. She also had a REALLY nice computer, one that Kenji himself had built for her. The only nice thing he'd ever done for her, besides teach her to become a master computer hacker.
She hadn't been lying to Bryan when she'd said that she'd hacked the school's system at least five times. She carried a little CD booklet inside one of the many pockets of her trenchcoat, with such self-made CDs as PortJammer, PassThief, etc. Hacking programs, ones she'd written herself. The librarian was pulling out chunks of her hair trying to figure out how every computer in the school was simultaneously uploaded with a new screensaver every week. Angel enjoyed the spectacle immensely.
Takeru's cold nose broke through her thoughts again, to remind her that she'd stopped scratching him. She sighed, grinned, and resumed her duties. The dog re-entered his state of bliss. "You big baby," she crooned. "That's all you are, just a big baby." The baby didn't answer.
Ten minutes later, the sound of the squeaky brakes on Angel's Honda reached the sensitive ears of girl and dog. Then she looked at her canine companion. "Looks like I beat you again, Takeru," she said with a grin. The dog flattened his ears, and Angel's smile grew wide. She would swear that the dog was insulted that she could hear and smell almost as well as he could. More stuff she could do that no other human being on the planet could do. Thus, more questions.
They sat in the kitchen for a moment, then Angel rose to stand in the doorway, with Takeru beside her. They watched Bryan shuffle his way across the hardwood floor and into the living room. He was carrying two 12-packs of Budweiser. One was already open, with one bottle gone. The missing bottle was out in Angel's car, something she'd find in the morning.
For now, Bryan sat in the semidarkness of the living room, the only motion being his arm making regular trips to his mouth with a bottle of beer. Angel could see him perfectly through her night vision. She could see perfectly in the dark, with everything appearing to her as though it had been lit by a green sun. If she could have seen her eyes at the moment, she would have been shocked to see that the irises were a bright green color.
Uncertainly, Angel's mind pressed lightly at the edges of his. It was hazy as the alcohol began its work, but Angel found her way to his emotions. Intense pain, despair, sorrow, and bitterness competed for dominance in the forefront of his mind. It hit Angel all at once, like a ton of bricks, and she nearly collapsed. She withdrew, and calmed herself.
After a while, Angel moved into the living room and curled up in an easy chair. Bryan slumped on the loveseat in front of the TV. He ignored her, and flipped the TV on. They had 99 channels, and he browsed for a moment before turning his head to look at her. "What do you want?" The words were slurred and harsh, and Angel flinched at the raspy sound.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Angel said quietly. Bryan regarded her for a moment, then tossed the now-empty beer bottle at his feet and reached for a third. "Bryan... please stop that."
"Why should I?" He looked at her with the all-too-familiar gaze of a drunk trying to hang on to reality. She'd seen that look often at Jerry's.
"Because I feel responsible. I had no right to pry into your past." She paused, her voice breaking. "I just don't want to see you burn away your life like this."
"Why do you care?" Again with the harsh tone. It grated against her ears as hard as it did her mind, and she nearly broke down right then.
Then Angel got an inspiration, one coming from a long history of dealing with drunks at Jerry's. She pretended to be annoyed at him, almost angry. "I don't know, Bryan. Maybe I shouldn't care. Maybe I should just let you drink yourself to death." She waited with held breath.
Bryan stared at her for a moment, and she could feel the anger welling up in his mind. Then it was replaced by another emotion, one that she'd felt often in the minds of others, but never in herself: defeat.
Nothing more was said that night. Angel watched Bryan go through 99 channels and two more beers before heading upstairs with Takeru in tow. The dog curled up on the end of her bed and was dozing off even as Angel slipped into a nightshirt.
"It's all my fault, Takeru," she said sadly as she slipped between the chilly covers. "I just wanted to know... me and my big mouth. I never should have said a word."
Even as she fell asleep, she could feel the tired, bitter mind of the drunken man downstairs. The man that was her brother. He'd come into her life not an hour and a half ago, and it already seemed as though she'd lost him.
It was all her fault.
I was looking into the mirror
To see a little bit clearer
The rottenness and evil in me
Through fingertips and memories (?)
I can't forget the curves of your body
And when I feel a bit naughty
I run it up the flagpole and see
Who still looks, but no-one ever does
I'm not sick, but
I'm not well
And I'm so hot
Cause I'm in hell*
*Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta*
Upon arriving home, Angel led Bryan to the house and unlocked the door. Instantly that gigantic dog came barreling toward them, and Angel knelt down to give the joyous canine a hug and a scratch. When she stood, the dog fixed Bryan with a glare, but didn't growl. Angel seemed amused. "I see you've already met Takeru."
Bryan's eyes never left the dog. "How would you know that?"
Her eyes twinkled. "He's not growling at you. He has a good memory. If I tell him you're my friend, then he'll tolerate you. He only understands Japanese commands, though."
"Gee, thanks," he muttered.
"Tenshiii!!!" The nasal voice rang out. Bryan winced at the tone. Angel clapped her hands to her ears, while Takeru flattened his and whined softly. The tone itself was comparable to nails on a chalkboard, or screeching metal. It actually HURT to listen to it.
The short Japanese man called Kenji came storming out of the living room. "Tenshi! Where is my dinner? You are late!" He seemed to take no notice of Bryan.
Angel's good mood disappeared instantly. "Why didn't you make your own dinner?"
"That is your job!"
"Not tonight. Fix a microwave dinner or something. I don't feel like cooking."
Kenji stamped one foot irritably. "I told you to fix my dinner! Stupid girl!"
Big mistake. Angel narrowed her eyes, and fixed him with an intense glare. "And I told you to make your own food. It's nine o'clock, for Christ's sake. Surely you can operate a microwave, Mr. Computer Repairman."
Kenji returned the glare, but it was nowhere near as intense as hers. "I say obey me! Fix my dinner!"
Bryan stepped in. "Hey, jackass, she said she's tired. Order a damn pizza or something."
Angel gave her brother a surprised look. "Why, thank you, Bryan. That was the nicest thing that's happened to me all day. Just for that, I'll warm up some leftover casserole for you or something."
"And what about me?" Kenji whined.
Angel stared intently at him, and Kenji shrank back involuntarily. "Nothing for you, asswipe."
Kenji's voice became a gargle of pure rage as Takeru and Bryan followed Angel into the kitchen. Angel filled the dog's dry feed and water dishes before browsing through the refrigerator. "What'll it be, lasagna or beef stew?" Her comment was directed at Bryan, who had seated himself at the kitchen table.
"Both, if you don't mind. I'm fucking starved."
"No problem."
Twenty minutes later, they were both seated at the table. Angel was halfway through her second portion of lasagna, but was observing with speechless awe as Bryan scraped the last of the cheesy Italian goodness out of the pan. The beef stew had already been completely cleaned out. When he was finished, he looked pointedly at her still-unfinished portion. "You gonna eat that?"
"My God! How many stomachs do you have?"
"Hey, I told you I was hungry. Got any more?"
"Not tonight. I'll go shopping tomorrow, though."
He looked disappointed. Then, "Do you have any beer around here?"
Her voice took on an amused note. "No. I'm underage, you remember, and Kenji doesn't drink." The amusement turned to bitterness. "I'd almost prefer a drunken foster father to him."
"So, why do you put up with him anyway? I mean, I'd have killed him a long time ago," he said offhandedly.
"Much as I'd like to kill him, I can't." Her tone was idle, almost bored, but her face told him that she'd like nothing better than to play out that scenario.
"Why not?" He pushed his plates aside, and rested his chin on one balled-up fist. She gave him an odd look.
"Because I'd be the only suspect. There's nobody for me to pin it on, and there's only one person that I know, besides you, that might alibi for me. But he's not a liar. So, if Kenji dies, I would go to jail until I was thirty-something, at least. Not something I want to do."
Bryan smirked. "Jail doesn't bother me."
Angel looked up. "Is that because you used to be a cop, or something?"
The smirk disappeared. "Yeah, it is."
"I was wanting to ask you about that. Seeing as you remember your past, and I don't, I was hoping you'd tell me a bit about yourself." It was her turn to push her plate aside, and she folded her arms on the table. She took a light reading of him, and his mind was filled with bitterness and regret. He really didn't want to talk about it. Almost like he was hiding something.
Bryan hesitated. "Like I already said, my memory's a bit foggy about my first years. I remember signing up for the police academy, after high school. Did real good, too. Top of my class. Joined the force as soon as I graduated. Didn't have a partner until about two and a half years ago, and that was after I joined up with Interpol."
"Interpol. You mean the International Police Force?"
"Yep. I was an undercover detective for two years. Busted some pretty big drug dealers, too."
"Sweet! I think I might do that, when I get out of high school. It sounds fun."
"Do what? Be a cop?" Bryan was dubious.
"Yeah. Either that or the military. I could be an Army Ranger, or a Navy SEAL. Those guys are the best of the best. And so am I, at everything I've ever done."
Bryan decided to throw in a little brotherly humor. "The pay is shit. I knew gas station owners that made more money than I did."
"It's not about the money. It's about being able to legally use the skills I have. Keyword being 'legally.'"
"And what exactly would those skills be?"
She gave him an odd look, and leaned back in her chair. "I can kick your ass, that's one thing. I know a lot about hand-to-hand combat with any kind of weapon. I'm pretty good with guns, too. Kenji has actually done something useful, and taught me a shitload of stuff about computers. I've hacked the school's system at least five times." She grinned.
Bryan digested this fact. "That's illegal, you know."
She smirked. "I know. So arrest me, then."
He sneered at her, but didn't reply. Her eyes twinkled as she stood, and began gathering dishes to start washing them. As she washed, she asked him another question. "Did you enjoy being a cop, then?"
He had to think a moment before answering. "Yeah, I guess I did. The pay was shit, as I already told you. My apartment was probably smaller than this kitchen. And this is a big kitchen." He looked at her, and smirked. "It was my sworn duty to bring order and justice to the community," he intoned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "There was a lot of politics involved, though. I wasn't allowed to hit people once I'd cuffed them. So, I always made it a point to beat them into submission BEFORE I cuffed them."
Angel had to smile at this. "See? Sounds like fun."
His thin mouthed stretched into a tight smile. "It is fun, until you find out that the person you're chasing happens to have a knife or a gun." He pointed to the ever-present scar on his face.
"Is that why you quit? You were tired of getting cut and shot at?" Angel's face was a mask of seriousness.
Bryan, however, gave a short, dry laugh. "Yeah, that's exactly why I quit. Near-death experiences aren't exactly my idea of fun."
She was quiet for a moment. Then, she asked the burning question. "How did you survive getting shot like that?"
Bryan's face instantly became a stony mask. He almost said that he HADN'T survived, but stopped just in time. What could he tell her? She would know if he lied, but he couldn't exactly tell her the truth, either.
A heavy silence descended. "I didn't survive. I mean, obviously my body got me through it, but..." he trailed off, and looked at the enraptured Angel. "I was dead inside. After I got shot, I stopped feeling things."
"What do you mean?" Angel's voice was quiet.
"I stopped feeling. Some of my memories got wiped, for some reason. Most of all, I realized that I stopped feeling emotions. I can't remember the last time I was happy, or sad." His voice was low, and gravelly. "I just... stopped."
Angel was silent, and Bryan noticed that her eyes were unusually bright and glittery. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It was none of my business."
"You're damn right it was none of your business. I tried really hard to forget that. I don't even know why I told you. Must be those beers I had at the bar."
He stood, and towered over her. They stared at each other for a moment. "Gimme your car keys."
"Why?"
"Because I wanna go get some beer."
"Bryan... I said I was sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" he snapped.
Another heavy silence. Then, Angel reached into her pocket and gave him the keys to her car. Go right when you get to the end of the road. Hang a left at the second light. There's an all-night convenience store." Her voice was just as bitter as his.
He grabbed the keys and walked out the door, leaving Angel alone at the kitchen table. For a moment she sat there, tears brimming in her eyes when a cold, wet dog nose thrust itself at her bare arm. She yelped involuntarily, then glanced down at her adoring pet. Takeru rested his massive head in her lap and looked up at her with his adoring, pleading liquid brown eyes. Angel sighed, and started scratching behind his ears. The dog closed his eyes in bliss. "You always know how to cheer me up, dog," she said quietly, a slow grin spreading across her face. The dog regarded her for a moment, then closed his eyes again and leaned into her obliging hand.
Talking to her dog was one of the few things that cheered Angel up. She had gotten the dog as a puppy, two years ago. The year she arrived in America from Japan, an event she barely remembered. Kenji almost hadn't gotten the dog, but once she'd convinced him that the typical American family had a dog, Kenji had nearly gotten a speeding ticket driving to the nearest pet store.
That was the key to getting around Kenji's controlling impulses. Convince him that the typical American family had this or that, and she would have it, to an extent. He still treated her like a slave, but at least she had a car and an allowance. She also had a REALLY nice computer, one that Kenji himself had built for her. The only nice thing he'd ever done for her, besides teach her to become a master computer hacker.
She hadn't been lying to Bryan when she'd said that she'd hacked the school's system at least five times. She carried a little CD booklet inside one of the many pockets of her trenchcoat, with such self-made CDs as PortJammer, PassThief, etc. Hacking programs, ones she'd written herself. The librarian was pulling out chunks of her hair trying to figure out how every computer in the school was simultaneously uploaded with a new screensaver every week. Angel enjoyed the spectacle immensely.
Takeru's cold nose broke through her thoughts again, to remind her that she'd stopped scratching him. She sighed, grinned, and resumed her duties. The dog re-entered his state of bliss. "You big baby," she crooned. "That's all you are, just a big baby." The baby didn't answer.
Ten minutes later, the sound of the squeaky brakes on Angel's Honda reached the sensitive ears of girl and dog. Then she looked at her canine companion. "Looks like I beat you again, Takeru," she said with a grin. The dog flattened his ears, and Angel's smile grew wide. She would swear that the dog was insulted that she could hear and smell almost as well as he could. More stuff she could do that no other human being on the planet could do. Thus, more questions.
They sat in the kitchen for a moment, then Angel rose to stand in the doorway, with Takeru beside her. They watched Bryan shuffle his way across the hardwood floor and into the living room. He was carrying two 12-packs of Budweiser. One was already open, with one bottle gone. The missing bottle was out in Angel's car, something she'd find in the morning.
For now, Bryan sat in the semidarkness of the living room, the only motion being his arm making regular trips to his mouth with a bottle of beer. Angel could see him perfectly through her night vision. She could see perfectly in the dark, with everything appearing to her as though it had been lit by a green sun. If she could have seen her eyes at the moment, she would have been shocked to see that the irises were a bright green color.
Uncertainly, Angel's mind pressed lightly at the edges of his. It was hazy as the alcohol began its work, but Angel found her way to his emotions. Intense pain, despair, sorrow, and bitterness competed for dominance in the forefront of his mind. It hit Angel all at once, like a ton of bricks, and she nearly collapsed. She withdrew, and calmed herself.
After a while, Angel moved into the living room and curled up in an easy chair. Bryan slumped on the loveseat in front of the TV. He ignored her, and flipped the TV on. They had 99 channels, and he browsed for a moment before turning his head to look at her. "What do you want?" The words were slurred and harsh, and Angel flinched at the raspy sound.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Angel said quietly. Bryan regarded her for a moment, then tossed the now-empty beer bottle at his feet and reached for a third. "Bryan... please stop that."
"Why should I?" He looked at her with the all-too-familiar gaze of a drunk trying to hang on to reality. She'd seen that look often at Jerry's.
"Because I feel responsible. I had no right to pry into your past." She paused, her voice breaking. "I just don't want to see you burn away your life like this."
"Why do you care?" Again with the harsh tone. It grated against her ears as hard as it did her mind, and she nearly broke down right then.
Then Angel got an inspiration, one coming from a long history of dealing with drunks at Jerry's. She pretended to be annoyed at him, almost angry. "I don't know, Bryan. Maybe I shouldn't care. Maybe I should just let you drink yourself to death." She waited with held breath.
Bryan stared at her for a moment, and she could feel the anger welling up in his mind. Then it was replaced by another emotion, one that she'd felt often in the minds of others, but never in herself: defeat.
Nothing more was said that night. Angel watched Bryan go through 99 channels and two more beers before heading upstairs with Takeru in tow. The dog curled up on the end of her bed and was dozing off even as Angel slipped into a nightshirt.
"It's all my fault, Takeru," she said sadly as she slipped between the chilly covers. "I just wanted to know... me and my big mouth. I never should have said a word."
Even as she fell asleep, she could feel the tired, bitter mind of the drunken man downstairs. The man that was her brother. He'd come into her life not an hour and a half ago, and it already seemed as though she'd lost him.
It was all her fault.