She dropped the manacles and crouched down to snatch them up before one of the occasional pedestrians saw, though considering how she must look she wasn't sure why she bothered. When she tried to stand back up she staggered, courtesy of three months in the hospitality of Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Price, failed Watcher and evil bastard extaordinare. When she looked up again he was there with that deceptive bland expression, and she wondered if he was going to kill her. His arm shot out suddenly, jerkily, and slowly his fingers turned so that he offered her his hand. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled herself up. She waited for him to speak, and then realised that he was waiting for her to do the same. She realised, suddenly, that she didn't care. Not just in the self-destructive, "I don't care if I live or die", kind of way, but how Angel felt about this, about Wesley and his lawyer and resentment, about Holtz's vengeance.
"Come on," she said. "Let's get out of here."
"Where do we go?" he asked. "Utah?" She wondered if he knew anything about what was in the world, instead of just who. Then she grinned as hard as she could, which she suspected just after made her look in pain at best, rather than the sickly-sweet cheerful she had wanted, and said,
"We're going to Disneyland," in a voice that fell short and ended up with her teeth gritted. He nodded. She knew that sooner or later he would want to know what had happened to Daniel, where they were going. And she couldn't answer either of those, not really. But he hadn't asked yet. She took a step, then stopped and tossed the handcuffs away from her. They fell near a street light, and glinted beneath it. She started walking and didn't look back, and Connor followed behind silently, but glanced back until they turned a corner.