They said it never rains in sunny California. But it did and when it did, it poured. Figuratively and literally, it would seem.
He sighed as he watched the rain running in rivulets along the window panes. The glass of scotch was held loosely in his hand and balanced delicately on the cast that encased his leg. He should be out and helping the others, not sitting about in here because he tripped over some damn dog hiding in the alley to get out of the rain.
And the said dog should really not be sitting there, gazing up at him with big doe eyes like the sorriest looking thing in the world. It's eyes were still nothing in compared to the ones he'd gotten from Spike when the animal started yelping louder than Wesley after he'd tripped over it though. Sure, Wesley had only broken his knee from landing so hard on pavement, but the dog had been kicked and therefore deserved all the cooing.
Wesley rolled his eyes and looked away from the creature. It whined and rested it's head over his cast, soulful eyes turned upwards to him. Wesley glared down at it.
"This is your fault. You should have had the sense to move away from the band of demon hunters. We weren't exactly sneaking up on you."
And now the plans he'd had with Spike for the evening were ruined. Again. How many days in a row did that make now? Always one thing or another going wrong. And every evening ended up spent before the window and just watching the damned rain. And always alone because Spike had better things to do than sit around with a clumsy invalid.
The dog lifted it's paw up onto Wesley's cast, it's ears perking forward as if it had heard the thought. It whined again and Wesley rested his hand over the dogs head, ruffled it's ears. Surprising how the act made him smile.
Maybe not so alone after all. It was about time he forced Spike to go out and get some supplies for this thing.