"I'm just saying that I know what I saw."
Faith kicked her feet back, her mud ridden doc martens now hanging of the arm of Angel's semi-expensive couch. Putting her legs so high up made her back point downward at an angle opposite to the one her feet and the couch end had created.
"Let's say for convenience's sake that I do believe you, so what? You saw a body, passed out, and when you came to, it was Houdini. You can't exactly hand over stinky air to a forensic scientist, and you can't blame the pigs for not believing that something had been where nothing now was."
Angel knew that Faith was right, at least for the most part. For all he knew, he could have bottled air particles, but the fact remained that he hadn't. The police had blown him off, and an entire day had passed. There was nothing left for him to do. However, this did not deter him from feeling significantly troubled over the entire ordeal. He had never seen something so gruesome before, unless you counted his reflection after a hangover. And maybe he was letting a hyperactive imagination get the best of him.
You didn't make this up. You shouldn't throw away your heroic enthusiasm just because some slob who wasn't even there tries doubting you.
But what was Angel supposed to do about it? Right or wrong, the fact remained that this was currently out of his hands. Something spectacular would have to happen in order for this to once more become his problem.
Noticing his blatant lack of answer, Faith began to nag at her companion once more. Her shoes danced just off the edge of the arm.
"You have work today, right?"
It was with a stagnant hesitation that Angel began to reenter the premises. He looked at those numbers with imploring intentions, but 1, 9, and, 6 all kept their lips sealed shut, as shut as the door to the room of the dead. (Which was now the door to the room of nothing, he had to keep telling himself that.)
He had done his signature knock at least a minute ago now. And still he stood here, a statue of fear and anticipation. Whose body would it be this time?
It's bound to be yours if you don't get back to work.
Angel cracked his knuckles individually, each joint resounding louder than the last. "Remind me never to get hired by you."
You should be so lucky.
The anxieties that had previously pressed his person seemed to melt away sheepishly whenever Buffy spoke. It was like magic, the way in which she could ease and console him without so much as laying a hand on his physical form. How could one person be so much of nothing and still mean everything?
With this newfound reassurance Angel found that he was capable of anything and everything, so opening the hotel room door was a mundane feat. Unfortunately, her words had done nothing to prepare him for the vision he would see next from his perfect placement at the now ajar doorway.
Two bodies, pale as moonlight. It wasn't that Angel was uncomfortable with nudity, moreso that he was uncomfortable with the total nudity of strangers.
To be fair, he wasn't exactly being handed the entire Greek figure. The lights were off, and one man was in prayer position. The other faced away from him and therefore only revealed back and buttock alike. And of course, the almost silver-blond of the back of his head. It took them a split second to realize the door was open, which was a split second of Angel seeing an activity that he had not wished to see.
The first to realize, of course, was the figure on the floor. His eyes shot to the size of sausages and he quickly pulled back, stumbling over himself to find a blanket for his body. "Bloody hell," the other exclaimed, as he too came to this realization. Being less modest, he opted to clap two hands together and whirl around in his makeshift thong.
"Don't they teach you Americans how to knock?!"
Angel's brow furrowed. "I-I did?...I- "
"C-C-an you even form a proper sentence? Jesus, the help has downgraded at this dump."
Realizing the two were going to have a conversation as they were, the other man had cast aside the blanket and went into the restroom with actual clothes. When he came out, the two strangers were still staring at each other, ping-ponging waves of awkward and anger to one another. The fully clothed man made the wild internal assertion that these two would be like this for quite some time, and the wilder assertion that this whole situation was too much drama, even for him.
"You'll call, right?" Somehow even in full attire, he was still shyer then his lengthy blond partner.
The naked one sighed. "Yes Andrew, I'll call." His voice was much softer when he spoke these words, even though they were obviously untrue.
Andrew beamed, shuffling past Angel's broadness with a renewed look upon his face.
Apparently not so obvious. It wasn't until he disappeared down the hallway that his lover once more began to speak.
"Now…where was I?"
This was Angel's chance to verbally renew himself, to de-clumsify this situation. It was unlike him to be so awkward and so mistake prone, and this…twink? needed to know that. On top of that, clearing up the situation would ensure that his ass wasn't grass to the building manager.
"Ah, that's right." The man took a step forward. He slammed the door shut.