Day One, Tuesday, Los Angeles, California,
"England!" Cordelia cried in disbelief. "You expect me to go to England? Land of fish and chips? Homeland of Giles? And Wesley! You can't be serious. There must be another way we can help this…Dicey"
"Darcy." Doyle corrected her. "A good old-fashioned Irish name."
"Mr Darcy was Irish?" Cordelia asked incredulously. "Wow, Colin Firth really can't do an Irish accent!"
Angel blinked as he mentally dealt with the conversation stopper. "Cordy, she lives in England, she's in trouble, I need to help her."
"Okay, sure, you need to help her, but do I? I mean, all the way to Europe and not even a stopover in Paris. Come on!"
"Cordy." Angel growled. "I can't do this alone. I haven't been to England for a hundred and ten years. It's going to have changed."
"How? It's England for God's sake."
Angel sighed and looked to Doyle for support who started when he realised that he was supposed to get involved.
"He's got a point there Cordy. I mean, England's got electricity now."
"Cordelia, I need people who can get about during the day and report back to me. This Darcy needs us to be there for her. Now."
"It's all very well and good sayin' that, but how are you gonna get there?" Doyle said.
"Air-freight."
"What?"
"I'll be in a big crate in the hold, you two'll be sitting in the lap of luxury in the passenger section. Cordelia, find out where we can get hold of big crates and how much it'll cost to get us all there and back." Cordelia nodded and went out of the room with a sigh, resigned to going to England. Doyle turned to Angel.
"Angel? Should I be worried about this Giles guy?"