Faith handed over the bag of pork chops and watched as the older woman she had been helping walked out with it in hand, letting the wind slam the door shut behind her. She was alone.
The shop was never busy in the last hour open. People came and went, one by one, but she had many moments to herself, contemplating the despair of minimum wage existence. She began absentmindedly tapping a half-remembered song into the counter, bobbing her head in sync. How she wished she could listen to music, but a particularly harsh reprimand on her first day had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't supposed to. Gradually, her tapping stopped resembling the song and started following along with the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Then along came a spider. A spider in a black leather jacket and, amusingly, named Angel, to be precise.
Oh thank god, Faith thought. She had been alone with her thoughts long enough for the existential dread to set in.
"Hey, An-gel," she said in a sing-song voice.
He gave her a skeptical look. "Hi," he said, walking over to the counter. "I'd-"
"You don't even have to say it," she said, then went to open the fridge.
She took out one of the blood boxes, then spun it around on her index finger like an NBA player. A mistake, which became immediately apparent as the box tipped over her finger and landed on the floor with a THUNK. The lid flew off as it tumbled around and blood began pouring out over the floor in all directions. Faith's eyes widened in horror.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Angel coming around the counter. He grabbed a hold of the large blue paper towel hold and pulled off a long strip, then ducked to the floor.
"No, no, you don't have to," she said. "This is my job."
Angel shook his head. "It's fine. My blood anyhow." He put the blood-soaked ball of paper in his hand into the bin, then went to pull off another one.
Faith followed suit, figuring four hands would be better than two. She began soaking up blood in the opposite direction to where he had gone to work.
"Not how I imagined our second date," she muttered.
"Our-" he said, but stopped himself, returning to his work.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, the last wad of blue papers was in Angel's hand. He stepped back to stand next to Faith, then lobbed the wad into the bin like a basketball.
"Yeah, goal!" she exclaimed.
He gave her an odd look.
"What, is that not what you say?" she asked.
He didn't answer her, instead heading back to the customer side. Her eyes took in a panorama view of the store as they followed his movements.
She sighed, burying her face in the counter. "What a nightmare;" she muttered.
"Really?" he asked. "Not your ideal way to spend the evening?"
"Not really, no." She shot up with a jolt. "Oh! Let me get you some new... blood."
He smiled. "A gracious host."
She tiptapped over to the fridge and grabbed another box, then carried it back with the utmost care, like a waitress with a tray of glasses. She held the box out to him, and he took it in hand.
A swipe of the credit card later, he seemed ready to leave with his usual closed-mouth smile.
"Uh, before you go-"
"Hmm?"
Faith folded her hands together in front of her. "Well, you know, I'm off in a few minutes..."
Angel got the hint. "Oh," he began, but stopped right after. His composure was gone in an instant.
She began drawing circles with her finger on the counter. "I mean you don't need to, it's just-"
"Of course," he said. "What were you thinking about?"
"We could hang at your place," she suggested.
"I... don't think that's a great idea," he said.
Faith shot him a devilish smile. "Mr. Detective got some secrets of his own?"
"No, my apartment just isn't exactly... visitor-ready."
Boy, could that mean a lot of things, Faith thought.
"I mean, my place can work. Bit small." She spread out her arm in a sweeping gesture. "Obviously."
He nodded, looking towards the clock. "Sounds good."
"You know what," Faith began, "I'll just close up now."
Angel turned his head towards her. "Uh, I don't think you close yet."
She shrugged.
"But isn't that against the rules?" he asked.
"Not if nobody's here to enforce them."
He frowned, but said nothing.
Paying him no mind, Faith began packing down the store, bringing meat into storage and hitting the lights, before finally emerging from the back room with her arms outstretched.
"How does she do it?" she asked no one. "Madwoman, I tell you."
He chuckled softly and gestured gallantly towards the door. "Shall we?"
A puzzled expression crept onto her face. "Shellfish," she replied with a nod.
The street was dark already. Cold to boot, but the air remained as oppressive and cloying as any humid Summer day. Faith locked the door and twirled the keyring around her finger. Casting a look at Angel, she noticed how oddly the streetlights were illuminating his face. It seemed better fit for the shadows, she thought to herself.
"It's a few blocks away," she said, moving down the street. She made sure to add a little sway, but knew there was quite the likelihood he wouldn't notice either way.
Their footsteps tried to harmonize, but Angel's longer legs proved to make that a challenge, as Faith added a half-step to her walk to keep ahead. The uneasy rhythm continued through the streets until she made an abrupt stop in front of an apartment complex.
She gave the door a few half hearted knocks. "That would be it," she said.
Angel's eyes travelled up and down the building, then returned to her with a smile. "Looks like a building," he replied.
"That's kind," she muttered, opening the door.
She led the two up the narrow stairs, stopping at the third floor in front of a plain light wood door. She fumbled with the lock for a few moments, letting out a nervous chuckle as she nearly dropped the key. With a nod to no one in particular, she rose to her feet and went inside.
She noticed him still standing in the stairway.
"You coming?" she asked.
"Uninvited? How rude."
"Uh, well, you're welcome inside. Spoilers, I didn't invite you here to leave you in the stairway."
He smiled and came into the entryway, almost bumping his head against the doorway on his way inside.
"This would be the abode," she said.
He took a few long, tentative steps, studying the place with a profoundly neutral expression. She observed him anxiously, awaiting his judgment.
"Nice abode," he finally said. Turning to her, he added, "Wait, you know the word 'abode' but not 'shall'?"
"Don't interrogate my vocab, dude. You'll go nuts."
Angel blew a bit of air out of his nose. "I believe that." He studied the room around them, then finally turned back to her. "Can I put this in your fridge?" he asked, holding up the blood box.
"Sure, knock yourself out. Just… don't look at the expiration dates in there. It's for your own good."
Faith headed into the small living room and pulled off her work uniform, which she tossed on top of a nearby chair. She pulled at her black tank top to straighten it, then, with a relieved sigh, threw herself backwards onto the couch in the middle of the room. Her hair bounced alongside her and fell to cover her face in messy strands.
Angel followed her into the room, sitting quietly down in a chair that faced the couch.
She shrugged. "More couch for me."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the light catching a bit of metal on the table in front of her. She sat up to see it better, finding it to be a small necklace cross that she recognized as Buffy's necklace. Must have forgotten it, she thought.
Angel had begun to subtly fidget with his hands. After a bout of silence, he spoke up. "Did you have any plans for when we got here?"
"Plans? You really don't know me very well," she said. "I dunno, do you want coffee? That's something people do."
"This late?" He furrowed his brow.
"Yeah! We make our own rules, who's gonna stop us?"
He chuckled. "A cup of revolutionary coffee seems good, thanks."
She waltzed to the kitchen - as she generously called the nook where she had her microwave and coffee machine - leaving Angel to, presumably, twiddle his thumbs in the chair. From the small cupboard on the wall, she reached up and retrieved two mostly clean ceramic mugs and a bag of no-brand coffee powder. There was already a spoon inside the bag, stained brown after being left there for weeks. She threw caution - and the instructions - to the wind and threw a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, then started it.
Something knocked lightly against her bare shoulder. She jumped.
"Sorry," Angel said from behind her. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Faith scoffed. "You think you can scare me?"
"Well," he began, "I can be quite scary, when I try."
"What, do you have big pointy teeth or something?" she asked.
"You wanna find out?" he said with a smirk.
She turned her head, rolling her eyes back mockingly. Grabbing the pot from the coffee machine, she poured full the mugs, then scoured a nearby drawer of teaspoons. She found two that seemed clean enough and dropped both of them into the mugs, sending droplets of poorly mixed coffee flying out across the counter. Bits of the brown liquid ran in streak down the counter and across the drawers on their way down to the floor.
Doing her best to ignore the mess, she handed a mug to Angel, who took it in hand with a slightly skeptical look.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Faith averted his gaze as she took a sip of her own coffee. "I mean it's no delicacy, but-"
"Thank you," he said, cutting her off with a surprising amount of sincerity. He softly placed a hand on her shoulder.
Faith put her hand on top of his with a concerned expression. "You're cold," she said.
"Well, we were just outside." He pulled his hand out from her grasp.
"Let's get you a blanket! I have some in the living room, we can get real snug and-"
A buzz sounded, and Angel looked like he had been struck by lightning.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing, nothing. Thank you for this, but I have to go now." He set the mug down on the table and turned towards the door.
She followed him. "Are you sure? It's pretty quick, sounds like something's wrong:"
"No, just something I have to do. Nothing you should worry about."
"I'm a bit worried though!" she exclaimed.
Angel opened the door and cast a look back at her. "Let's do this again sometime."
He was gone.
A disappointed sigh slipped her lips as she stared longingly into the wooden door. He had been right there and she'd let him slip. And he had left so suddenly. A thought struck her. On hurried steps, she went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The blood was still inside, right between assorted milk cartons and a cheap bottle of ketchup.
She flicked a finger against the plastic, watching the blood as it sloshed gently around. Deep inside, she could feel something simmering to the surface of her consciousness. Blood. Night. Garlic.
Mmm, garlic. Man, she was hungry.
Focus.
Secrets. Big pointy teeth.
She slammed the fridge shut. Taking a few deep breaths, she wandered through the small apartment to the living room. Her eyes darted back and forth over the table, finally finding what they were seeking out. She took the cross necklace in hand, holding it up to the light above to study it.
This should work.