AN: This is the ninth story in the Interaction series. So...a lot's happened, which I assume you know (although I also try to give helpful exposition when possible). If you haven't read any of the others, the most useful ones (in chronological order) will be The Art of Vampire Interaction and Confidants and Rubies, but if you only read one, read Confidants and Rubies. The first scene in this story will be especially much more fun if you've read that first.
The basic context is that Angel is living in Galway, Ireland, and the year is 2229. Judith Cole is a good friend whom he's known for over 20 years (he accidentally helped raise her son). A few months prior to this story, they ended up in bed together and didn't really stop. They haven't developed romantic feelings for each other, so their relationship is a sexual friendship.
Thanks for reading!
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented
- William Shakespeare, Richard II
Chapter One
For the first time in many years, excluding book purchases and necessary groceries, there was something new in Angel's flat. And, like most other things in the flat, this new thing was actually very old.
Judith noticed it right away—how could she not, when it was right in the middle of his living room?
"When did you get a table?" she asked.
Angel had a small table in his kitchen, but it was a plain metal-plastic construction and just big enough for two. This new/old table would comfortably seat four (uncomfortably 6-8) and it was beautiful. It was square, made of heavy, dark, well-worn wood, and the thick edge was carved and painted in old, yet deep hues of blues, greens, and reds, with the occasional highlight of gold. Four chairs stood at each side made of the same wood, also carved in the same leafy designs, but not painted.
"A few days ago," Angel replied from the other side of the table. He ran his hand along the wood near the edge, carefully avoiding the paint gilding the design. The deep red silk of his shirt seemed made to harmonize with the dark brown of the wood. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes, it's stunning. Where did you get it?"
"A little shop in Moscow."
"You went all the way to Moscow?!" Judith cried.
"I love modern-day transportation."
Setting a hand on the back of the nearest chair, Judith pressed gently against it, testing out the weight. It was as heavy as it looked. "How did you get it back?"
"I had them ship it," Angel said simply.
Judith frowned. "And why did you get the sudden urge to spend far too much money to acquire an antique Russian table?" she asked.
Angel shrugged, smiling at her.
He could be so frustrating sometimes.
"Well," she said, standing back to admire the whole set again. She started to circle it, taking in the table's placement in the room. "It does go nicely in here. You had a lot of empty sp-"
Judith cut off short, taking in something that made her breath catch with ever-deepening suspicion.
"Angel… What are you wearing?"
Angel followed her gaze downward, studying himself, and then looked back up at her quizzically. "Trousers?" he guessed.
"Leather trousers!"
"You don't like them?"
Judith frowned at Angel and folded her arms across her chest. "What are you doing?" she asked slowly.
Angel assumed a too-innocent expression and pressed a hand to his chest as if to ask, Who, me?
"Yes," Judith said firmly, taking a step backward. "We're supposed to go upstairs for a few social and deeply awkward rounds of cards so that my well-meaning but nosy friends can give you the third degree. If you go up there looking like that… Well…" She bit her lip, hesitating. "Alright, you see, the thing is that Claire is-and she'd be furious if she knew I told you, but you're setting a prime example, here, and I think this is important-"
Angel interrupted. "Let me guess: she thinks vampires are sexy?"
Judith opened her mouth in surprise. "Y-yes."
"So you think I'm setting a prime example, huh?" Angel grinned and swayed his hips slightly in demonstration of this example.
Judith flushed. "No, that's not what I… Look, the point is that we probably shouldn't be encouraging that. She needs to understand that vampires are dangerous, you know."
"Of course," Angel agreed.
"But at the same time, Marietta is a bit terrified of you."
"Naturally."
Judith sighed in frustration. "So there's a balance that we have to strike here. If you go upstairs wearing that, you're going to confirm both Marietta's worst fears and Claire's greatest dream."
Angel grinned like she'd just answered her own question, and Judith's heart fell into her stomach.
She had already been dreading the evening. Three weeks had passed since Angel had exorcised the demon Rankos from Marietta Goldberg-one of several women in Judith's circle of friends-and she had made almost as quick a recovery as Claire Renato and Judith had from the mere trauma of watching her go through it.
Physically, anyway. Marietta was skilled at masks and appearing to be her usual level of emotionally-fine. Judith knew that she must still be grappling with everything that had happened: not only with being possessed and nearly killed, but also with facing the reality of the supernatural world at all; the reality that vampires exist, and that one of them happens to live in Marietta's own building. Judith had told Marietta and Claire about Angel's circumstances, and had tried to be supportive and present for Marietta. Overall recovery seemed to be happening.
And then Claire had announced that she and Marietta had decided that they needed to see Angel again. Socially. To "get to know him."
Which meant that Judith was in college again and whatever these two friends gleaned would become the subject of happy gossip with the others for weeks of lunches, coffees, and phone calls to come.
It wasn't just that Judith didn't want Angel to be subject to that kind of scrutiny, and herself by association. It was that she didn't want any kind of attention at all placed on their relationship. It had been two months, and she and Angel were still just friends-except when they (obviously) weren't. And this scrutiny on both at once meant that her friends wanted to turn the relationship into something it wasn't.
And she was just not ready for that. Not even the mere suggestion of it.
She'd thought that Angel felt the same, and, indeed, had thought that he would have sooner moved out of the country than even agree to attend, but he'd surprised her when she told him about Claire's request. After a thoughtful nod and a long, pensive look somewhere vaguely over her shoulder, he'd said,
"Okay."
And then he'd gone to find a book he'd been meaning to lend her.
Now, that "okay" had somehow led to leather trousers, a red silk shirt (she now noticed, unbuttoned one too far down), and an antique Russian card table.
Oh god.
"You're not," Judith said in dawning horror.
"Theoretically," Angel agreed with a one-sided shrug as he sidled around her toward the front door, "given that I haven't invited my guests yet. I know it's rude to change venues at the last minute, but," he gave an unapologetic gesture with his hands, "vampire."
"Angel," Judith said warningly. He was already bent over the small lock screen by the door, from which he could access an intra-building comm to call his neighbors. Judith was fairly sure he'd never used it before, but he must have practiced because by the time she'd rushed over, he was already calling Marietta's flat.
"Angel, no," she said. "We're going upstairs."
Marietta's face appeared on the small screen, looking confused and curious. Angel did another unapologetic gesture at the screen to point out the obvious that it was too late.
"Marietta," Angel smiled with a lazy sort of confidence. He leaned both hands against the wall on either side of the screen, blocking Judith's attempts to push her way in front of the camera. "How are you?"
"Angel," Judith hissed, tugging at his red silk sleeve.
"F-fine," Marietta answered, confusion deepening on her face.
"Wonderful," Angel said like he meant it. "Is Claire with you?"
"She's just arrived, but she went to freshen up," Marietta replied, glancing backward toward the hall that led to her bathroom. "Why?"
"Well, here's the thing," Angel started, his disarmingly charming smile widening just a bit. "I would just love it if you would let me host. I know it's last-minute," he held up his hand with the arm not blocking Judith to stem any potential protests, "but it would really mean a lot to me."
"Marietta," Judith said, trying to peer over Angel's arm into the camera, "never mind him. He doesn't mean-"
Angel's arm abruptly lifted and wrapped around Judith, pulling her close.
"It would mean a lot to both of us," Angel said earnestly.
"It would not." Judith tried to give Angel a death glare, but his gaze and smile stayed firmly aimed toward Marietta as if Judith hadn't said anything.
"Please," Angel said.
In the background, Claire appeared from the hall. She was in the middle of telling Marietta that she needed more tissues, but stopped when she saw Marietta at the comm screen and beelined over. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Angel would like to host instead," Marietta told her.
"No he wo-" Judith tried to say, but Angel hushed her by pressing a finger to her lips and a kiss in her hair, which she found insultingly patronizing.
"Oh, fantastic!" Claire grinned. "We'll be right down."
Marietta looked like she wanted to discuss the matter further, but Claire ended the connection, presumably because she was opening Marietta's front door right that second.
"There, see," Angel said, taking his hand away from her lips. "Everyone thinks it's a great idea."
"Well I think it's a terrible idea! And you need to change right now!"
"Change?" Angel glanced down at himself. "But you said I look sexy."
Judith's face fell into the palm of her hand as she said, "Oh god, Angel, would you just stop? This is not the time for silly games."
"It's not?" Angel's arm let go of her shoulders. "Seems like the perfect time for silly games to me. The grill-Judith's-lover-who-happens-to-be-a-vampire silly game. And baby, you're on the winning side." He shot her a grin like it was the cherry on top of his argument.
Judith gave him her best exasperated glare, but she felt a little relieved that he finally acknowledged that the setup of this was ridiculous.
"Trust me," Angel said. He pressed a hand to his partly-exposed chest, his expression softening a bit. "I only have your highest well-being at heart. And a few reputations to uphold."
He must have caught the look of intense concern on her face because he pulled her closer again by the hips, so near that a particularly large inhale would have brushed their chests together.
Angel leaned in and whispered in Judith's ear in a slow, sensual way that made her scalp tingle, "I have got everything under control." He gently kissed her earlobe and pulled back just enough for his lips to hover near hers.
Judith wanted to trust him. She did, when it came to life and death… But the leather trousers were greatly shaking her trust in the more social aspects of "I have got everything under control."
"And believe me when I say," he murmured, "that I would love to take the time, right here, right now, to help...convince you…" he glanced suggestively downward as his thumbs ran over the front crest of her hip bones, "but you must understand, I really need to greet my guests."
There was a knock at the door beside her, and Judith jumped.
Angel grinned as he reached over and pulled the door open, its direction blocking Judith from view. "Ladies," Angel said in a smoothly delighted tone. He stepped aside to allow Marietta and Claire in, holding out a hand to take Claire's coat. "Thank you so much for indulging an old man's whims. I have quite a special evening planned."
He reached around Judith to hang Claire's coat on the wall hook behind her.
"Judith, come on out," he chuckled, tugging her by the arm as he closed the door. "No, your hair's fine, really. They won't notice."
Judith wished she had the ability to growl at him-that was a language he might have understood.
"Come in, come in," he ushered all three women in while Claire and Marietta each gave Judith a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting; Claire's face alight with excitement and Marietta's dark with apprehension.
"Can I offer anyone a drink?" Angel asked. "I have lemonade, iced tea, and anything you might want to spike it with."
The corner of Claire's mouth curled up appreciatively. "Long Island Iced Tea?"
Angel arched an eyebrow. "With real iced tea? Novel. I'll see what I can do." Angel looked at Marietta.
"Er...the same."
Angel nodded cordially and looked at Judith, who maintained her disapproving glare at him.
"...I'll just make a pitcher," Angel decided. "Please, make yourselves at home," he told them, swiveling on his heel and striding toward the kitchen in a lingering, swinging motion that brought all three women's attention to his leather-clad hips and the bulges accentuated in both front and back.
In her head, Judith called Angel something that she usually found too crass to call anyone, but at that moment seemed entirely appropriate given how hard he seemed to be trying to show it off.
Claire let out an appreciative sigh while Judith rolled her eyes at her.
What ensued then was a silent conversation of expressions: Claire gave Judith and Marietta an "Isn't this fun?" grin, to which Judith replied with a, "No, and I blame you" glare. Marietta interjected with an exasperated, "I had already set out the pretzels" droop, and Judith was in the process of silently apologizing to her when Angel reappeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a bottle of triple sec and a glass pitcher with what appeared to be rum already sloshing around the bottom.
"Claire," he said, "if you want an excuse to snoop, we'll need some coasters for my new table. Far drawer on the right," he nodded toward the half bookcases on the opposite wall and began pouring a measure of triple sec by sight. "I think."
Claire grinned wickedly at him and he winked, turning back into the kitchen as Claire went to inspect the drawers.
Judith had seen Angel pull books off his shelves countless times, and shuffle through the cabinets underneath often enough to know that he kept extra spell ingredients, extra liquor, and boxes of unknown contents in there. She had hardly even noticed the line of drawers nestled in at hip height, though.
Claire was already rustling through her second drawer.
"This is a beautiful table," Marietta said, bent over the painted edge of the table again, thick, dark curls hiding her distinctly Grecian face.
"It's Russian. Apparently," Judith told her coolly, not because she was upset at Marietta, but at the entire situation.
"Relax, Judy," Claire said as she held up a yellowing bit of scrap paper to read Angel's slanted penmanship. "You're not the one in the spotlight." She frowned at the paper and muttered to herself, "Shopping list: newt tails, raven feathers, and the blood of a virgin." Wrinkling her nose, she dropped the paper back in the drawer.
The problem was, of course, that Judith was in the spotlight, since none of them would be there if it weren't for her connection. She understood Claire's meaning, but whatever they came away thinking of Angel that night would influence how they saw her. Judith valued her friends' opinions of her more than she liked to admit, even if she took some of them (like Claire's) with a larger grain of salt than the others.
"That's right," Marietta said as she circled the table to see the other side. She lowered her voice slightly so it wouldn't carry. "We just want to see what you see in him."
Claire nodded. "Besides the obvious. Wow," she breathed.
"Why, thank you," Angel's voice came from the kitchen.
Claire grinned at Judith without shame, and went back to rummaging through the drawers. "You don't have any brothers or sisters, do you Angel?"
"None alive," Angel called over the sound of ice in glasses. "They all died a long time ago."
"Obviously, Claire," Marietta said, still making a slow circuit around the table. "He's over 450 years old."
Claire shrugged. "They might be immortal, too. You never know, do you?" She opened the next drawer, shrieked, and slammed it shut again.
"Claire!" Judith cried, both she and Marietta clutching their chests.
"There's a shrunken head in there," Claire informed them, recovering herself.
"What'd you expect?" Angel asked from the kitchen.
"Serves you right," Judith told Claire, ignoring Angel's remark and making her way over to the kitchen doorway. Something that Angel said had intrigued her, in spite of her underlying apprehension and anger at him. "All of your siblings?" she asked. "I thought you only had a sister."
Angel looked up from the pitcher of spiked tea he was pouring into one of four ice-filled glasses. The expression in his eyes was familiar-it was a gentle kind of vulnerability he often wore when about to explain something about himself or his past-but his body language spoke of sensual confidence that she'd only just started to see in him. His hips were relaxed against the counter, one side cocked with the bend of his knee. The red silk of his shirt hung loosely and drifted against his torso with each small, fluid movement. The leather of his trousers smoothed over his curves and Judith found herself with the urge to run her hands over him.
She reminded herself quickly that she was upset at him for wearing those trousers in front of her friends, and for whatever his true intentions for that evening were.
"She's the only one who survived past her first week," Angel told her. He turned back to the other glasses and began to fill them. "Childbirth back then was very dangerous."
Claire suddenly appeared beside Judith, peering into the kitchen as well. "Was she as hot as you?"
Angel shot her a smirk that made it all the way up to his eyes, covering the vulnerability that had been there a moment ago with a hard shell of pure sex appeal.
"She was 12 when she died," Angel told Claire. "I really hope you don't actually want me to answer that."
"Well," Claire sighed, "I tried."
"You're also married," Judith pointed out.
Claire shrugged one shoulder. "Just keeping my options open. I love Alejandro-you know I do-but men just don't live as long."
Picking up the tray of drinks, Angel swept over to them, leading every movement with his hips like Judith had once been trained to do as a dancer. "I do," he grinned. He nodded to the drinks on the tray. "Please."
Claire picked up one of the glasses with a coy smile and tried a sip. She gave the cocktail an impressed nod.
"It's tragic," she said, "that your sister died so young. What happened?"
"I drank her dry," Angel replied as if he'd instead said that she'd contracted a bad cold.
The smile on Claire's face faltered, but Angel remained unmoved. Judith could almost see the logic in Claire's head.
Vampire.
Evil once.
Good now.
Still hot.
Claire's shoulders straightened and she picked up another glass from the tray. With a flippant twist of her head meant to show how completely unswayed she was at his remark, she turned and took the glass to Marietta on her way back to the drawers.
A brief look of satisfaction crossed Angel's face before he held the tray up to Judith, and she took a glass with an expression that she hoped conveyed how much she still disapproved of this entire thing. Angel gave her the briefest of winks and took the remaining glass on the tray. He turned around to set the empty tray aside on the counter.
With his free hand, Angel gently urged Judith back into the living with him at her low back, lingering there when they paused by the table.
"Did you find the coasters, then?" he asked Claire.
Claire held up a small stack of four coasters of black and red ceramic, even as she continued rummaging through the last drawer.
"Excellent," Angel said, and went to get them, hand trailing delicately off Judith's waist as he did.
"You know," Claire said as he approached, holding up a large feather. "Most people-if they're going to have scrap paper-write on it with pens, not quills and ink wells. Have you just kept them every single time you've moved in the last 450 years?"
"Quills," Angel informed her loftily as he took the coasters, "are elegant, lightweight, never run out of ink, and they make the loveliest little scratching sound when you write. Like…" He waved the glass in his hand vaguely as he searched for the right analogy. "Knife on bone."
He took a satisfied sip of his drink and went to set the coasters on the table. Marietta straightened up from where she'd been admiring the table and edged away from him.
"Well," he said as he set the last of the coasters in place, "Judith tells me that Bridge is your game of choice when you have four players?"
"Yep," Claire agreed, taking something out of the last drawer and shutting it with her hip. She ambled over to Angel and glanced down at his trousers. "Is that real leather?"
"Of course," Angel replied. "Italian. Why?"
"Just mentally sizing up your bank account," she shrugged. "Wood and leather are not cheap."
"You should see my car," Angel grinned.
"Or," Judith interrupted quickly before Claire could agree, "we could play Bridge." And then the evening could end sooner.
"That's the spirit, Judith," Angel said, grinning. "I knew you'd come around eventually."
He strode over to the far left drawer that Claire had just closed and pulled out a matching set of card decks. "So Claire," he said as he shut the drawer again, "you in the habit of nicking other people's handcuffs, or were you going to try to pull them out at an awkward time later on this evening?"
"Claire!" both Judith and Marietta admonished together, but Claire seemed not to notice.
"I was debating between now and an awkward later," she admitted.
As Angel approached the table again with the cards, he gave Claire a look that he sometimes gave Judith when he was in an especially mischievous mood. Claire soaked in the look with relish and held the handcuffs up on one finger. They clanked gently as they swung.
"So?" Claire took a long sip of her drink, which reminded Judith to try hers. It was sweet and strong, with an underlying bitter tea taste that balanced the sweet in a lovely way. Did she mention it was strong? She took a deeper sip.
Angel set his drink on one of the coasters, opened the plastic case of cards, and chose the design back with the predominantly red coloring. Setting the case and the other deck aside, he began to shuffle.
"So what?" he shrugged. "They're not for me. I'd snap them right off. The key is the weak point right here." He stopped shuffling long enough to pick up the dangling loop and showed her the joint where it was easiest to break through. "Most people don't know that, to say nothing of demons. That's why these are so useful when you have to capture one." He dropped the loop and the chain clanked again, swinging from Claire's finger. He resumed shuffling.
Claire frowned at him. "When you…"
"Have to capture one," Angel repeated slowly. "You know, for interrogation, torture, delivering them to the master whom you serve." He snorted derisively despite his smirk and resumed shuffling. "What did you think I used them for?"
Marietta stepped forward. Her arms were crossed but she wore a cautiously interested expression. "You serve a master?"
"God, no," Angel told her. "This whole section of town is mine." He set the red deck down and picked up the blue one.
"Yours?" Judith asked. She'd heard Angel speak of the area possessively, especially to other demons that he met at the Dragon's Crown, but she'd never heard him declare it like that.
"So, what?" Claire asked, handcuffs dropping by her side. "You're king?"
Angel wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I don't rule per se, but this is my territory. Other demons live and hunt here by my leave only."
"Territory," Marietta repeated. "So you have borders."
"Yeah," Angel replied in a tone that conveyed, More or less.
"I live," Marietta continued, clearly trying to wrap her brain around this idea, "in your territory."
"I should hope so," Angel answered, setting the blue deck aside. "Or that's an embarrassingly small territory."
"Am I in it?" Claire asked. "I'm up off Quarry Rd., near Lough Corrib."
"No," Angel shook his head. "My border ends just north of N6."
"So I'm in it, too, then?" Judith asked.
"Of course," Angel replied. "You were kind of on the border for a long time, but I managed to expand your direction about 20 years ago."
There was a deep silence as each of them digested this information.
Finally, Angel said, "I like a quiet life. You're all safer around here than most other areas of the city."
"Lucky us," Marietta said coolly, and Judith partly agreed. She was used to Angel's outlook now, even if she didn't like it. He made morally upstanding choices and protected the helpless not only because his conscience demanded it, but because it was convenient. And in that case, it actually was lucky that they lived in Angel's realm of demonic influence.
"Well," Marietta said brusquely, turning to Claire. "If you're done distracting yourself, shall we?"
Claire smiled in agreement and went to put the handcuffs back.
Marietta looked at Judith with a tired exasperation. "I think we both have our hands full tonight," she said sympathetically.
Angel grinned at her, now directing his sensuous charm at Marietta. He set the blue deck down on the table and circled around Marietta to the chair she was standing nearest. He pulled it out for her. "I do admire your focus," he told her smoothly. "I imagine a painter like yourself must be focused in…" he glanced briefly at her lips, "everything you do."
Judith rolled her eyes.
"Erm…" Marietta's throat sounded choked. "How...did you…?"
"Wait," Judith said, "it's true?" She and Claire shared a look that asked the other if she knew that Marietta was a painter.
"Well…" Marietta squirmed uncomfortably. "Just in my spare time. Sort of as a meditation."
Claire looked aghast. "Why didn't you tell us? Why haven't we seen anything you've done?"
Marietta flushed and murmured something about them not being very good before she hastily sat down in the chair and buried herself in her Long Island Iced Tea.
Angel shrugged with an innocent sort of oops, and adjusted Marietta's chair for her. Then he went to Judith and gently placed a hand low on her far hip like it was the most convenient place to urge her back toward the kitchen. "Help me carry food out?" he requested.
Judith nodded, maintaining her expression of disapproval at him while she placed her drink on the nearest coaster and allowed him to lead her out of the room.
The snacks he'd bought (pretzels, mixed nuts, and chocolate-covered raisins) were already in bowls, so while Angel began arranging tarts with a beautiful red-orange filling on a tray, Judith took the bowls out in two trips. Returning from the last trip, Judith stopped back in to check his progress with the tarts, which she now saw he was arranging in a sunburst pattern.
She would have commented that it looked lovely, but she didn't want to admit that any part of the evening was winning her over.
"So," Angel said quietly, sliding an arm across her waist. He'd never been so physically affectionate toward her before-not when he didn't have the short-term goal of a bedroom in mind. She wondered why it was coming out now, of all times. Her friends weren't even around to see it.
"Judith, I know you completely disapprove of cheating…"
Judith could nearly guess what was coming. "Yes, I do…" she said warningly.
Angel nodded. "We should really talk about that sometime, but for tonight, my sincerest apologies."
"Why?"
"Because I already am cheating…"
Judith's heart sank again and she turned back for the living room, saying as she went, "Oh Angel, you didn't."
"Oh good, you can tell everyone I bid two spades," he called after her.
Claire had seated herself and already started dealing when Judith came out and urgently told her to reshuffle. By the time she did and was in the middle of dealing again, Angel returned with the tray of tarts, placing it on the remaining free corner between Claire and Judith. He eyed Marietta as she continued to shuffle the other deck and sighed heavily. "All of my evil plans are thwarted by beautiful women. It almost makes it worth it."
"But not quite?" Marietta asked tersely.
"Evil plans: thwarted," Angel repeated, circling the table with the lithe masculine grace of a tango dancer. He slid into the chair opposite Judith and to Claire's left. "No one likes that." He picked up his glass and took a long sip.
"So tell us about them…" Claire prompted as she dropped the last card on her pile. Everyone picked up their hands.
"The evil plans or the beautiful women?"
"Both."
Angel made a noise at the back of his throat as he studied his cards. "Well, there was this one time I tried to send the whole world to hell. So the Slayer ran a sword through me and sent me to hell instead…"
Marietta paused briefly from arranging her hand to look up at Angel in surprise. He caught her looking and she quickly resumed arranging.
Claire sighed at her hand. "Pass," she said. "So she was beautiful?"
"Gorgeous," Angel replied. "And cute. A deadly mix, no pun intended." He rearranged exactly three cards in his hand. "Two spades." He pretended not to notice Judith's incredulous look. "And then the next time it was a different Slayer who thwarted me. She used drugs though. Worst trip I ever had..."
Marietta gave up with a sigh. "Pass."
Angel patted her hand consolingly. "Maybe next round you'll have better luck."
Claire leaned forward. "So what was your evil plan that time?"
"Oh, the usual…" Angel leaned back casually in his chair. "Mass chaos, destruction, reign of terror…"
Marietta suddenly looked up. "So you are a murderer then?"
Angel looked her in the eye. "Yes," he said.
Marietta took a deep breath, then turned to Claire and said, "I told you. Lord, those books at the shop told you."
Claire frowned. "Past tense, though, right? Marietta should have said, 'So you were a murderer.' Those books were all ancient."
Angel looked at her. "Is there a difference?" he asked.
"Angel, that is the first sensible thing you've said all evening," Judith told him.
Angel shot her a grin. "I believe you want to bid three hearts…"
Judith glared at him, approval abruptly draining. She wondered how on earth he'd managed to cheat despite Claire's thorough shuffling. Had he somehow managed because of it? In all her years of playing Bridge, Judith had only gotten a higher-point hand once.
But yes, given this hand and his opening bid, bidding three hearts would show support in points, declare her strongest suit, and encourage further bidding discussion. She set her cards down slowly, neatly, and said in a soft but dignified tone, "Three hearts."
"Hmm, interesting…" Angel said, sounding as genuinely interested as if he hadn't prompted her in the first place. He looked at his cards again.
Judith glared at him. "How did you do that?"
Angel shrugged innocently. "No idea what you mean. Claire shuffled. Perhaps she's had a bit too much to drink… So which books did you read about me?"
"Perused, really," Claire said, pausing to sip her drink. "They were all something to do with 'the modern era.' Most Notable Demons of Our Time, and Current Movements of Satan's Army, and A History of Supernatural Enemies Still at Large. That sort of thing."
Angel grimaced slightly. "I think that last one spelled my name wrong; with an extra e instead of a u. Like the city."
"Is that your only complaint about being featured in books about 'Satan's Army'?" Marietta asked, eyebrows raised like a challenge.
"Well, no," Angel replied, turning to her. "They didn't get all the facts right about our activities, either, but being as we hardly left witnesses to bear the facts, I can't really complain about that, can I?"
Marietta folded her arms across her chest and Judith resisted doing the same; her stomach was churning with a deep unpleasantness. She set her drink aside.
"You're proud of your 'activities,'" Marietta accused softly.
"Hardly," Angel replied, just as softly. "But being as I didn't have a soul, I also didn't have a choice. You can't make the empathetic decision when you're incapable of empathy."
Silence fell for a moment, and then Claire asked, "So now that you are capable of empathy, what are your intentions with Judith?"
Angel turned to her, now. "My intentions…" he said slowly, his mouth playing with the words, "are to make her happy."
"And you think you can do that?" Marietta asked, turning a hard, scrutinizing look to the vampire in the chair next to her.
The vampire in question grinned like the inquiry itself had turned him on and he might just jump the next person who breathed.
"I know I do."
Claire gave Judith an approving nod, and Judith was now growing used to the idea that hiding behind her cards was going to be a new norm.
"And is no one going to try my tarts?" Angel asked, gesturing to the tray. "They're made with blood oranges."
Judith looked at the tray in shock. "You baked these?"
Angel gave her an expression of mock offense. "Of course. I may not eat, but that doesn't mean I can't bake," he told her. "How speciesist of you, Judith."
Judith squared her shoulders, unsure how concerned she should be that she was being speciesist. "It's not a logical conclusion."
"No," Angel agreed with a soft smile. "Most things about me aren't."
There was a moment of silence when everyone wordlessly agreed in her own way that most things about Angel just didn't make logical sense. Finally, Claire reached across the table for a tart and turned back to Angel. "So where'd you grow up, Angel? And I pass, obviously."
Angel seemed genuinely surprised by that question. "Four hearts," he bid. "Why do you want to know?"
"You can tell a lot about a man by his upbringing and where he came from," Claire replied. "That is why we're here, you know: to make sure our Judith is in good hands."
Marietta interjected quickly to pass.
"Yeah, I caught onto that," Angel replied. He leaned in toward Claire with a suggestive smile. "And let me assure you, she is in excellent hands…"
Claire returned Angel's smirk and pushed him away playfully. "Go on, then, prove it to us."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "By telling you about my youth?"
"Just to start."
Angel gave a little sigh. "I grew up not far from here, over in Old Galway. I was the firstborn son of a merchant, I enjoyed the outdoors, and I was training to take over my father's business when I died."
Judith looked up from her cards. "And you were the cockiest bastard in town."
Claire and Marietta's heads whipped to face Judith, mouths agape. "Judy," Claire said, "did you just swear?"
Judith swallowed and drew herself up. "I was just quoting Angel's exact words. You know how I like to be precise. And besides:" she narrowed her eyes at him across the table, "he obviously hasn't gotten over it."
Claire turned back to Angel. "You're a bad influence on her. Judith never swears."
Angel smirked. "Maybe not for you…"
"Ha!" Claire grinned. "I knew it."
Judith was about to ask what Claire knew, but then she realized she didn't want to know.
"Five spades," Judith said instead, and Claire passed.
"It's true, though," Angel continued. "I was the guy in the tavern who knew he could have anyone. I was also…" he looked at Marietta now, "an artist."
Marietta perked up, looking at him for the first time that evening with a real curiosity that warmed her expression. "Really? What kind of art?"
Angel gave a little shrug. "Drawing, sketching… Mostly pencils and charcoal. I never got very far with it. Didn't really have the chance."
"Do you still draw?"
Angel smiled, stood up, and went into this bedroom. A minute later, he returned with a sketchpad. He stopped at Marietta and Judith's corner and after a brief hesitation, gave it to Marietta; she finally smiled at him.
Marietta flipped the cover back gently and gasped in admiration. Judith and Claire leaned over to see.
Judith had known that Angel occasionally liked to draw, but she hadn't seen much of his work. She recognized the first few that they flipped through, having seen them once years ago when she'd found him sketching as she came to drop off a book. The only other one she'd seen since then was a landscape he'd framed and hung in his bedroom.
Marietta and Claire commented about how much they loved the one of William reading a book on Angel's couch, and Angel explained the drawings of various real-life Irish landscapes, but they let the portraits of unrecognizable people go; except for Darla, since she was Angel's sire, and Buffy and Faith, since they'd come up in conversation.
When they came to the one of a wide-eyed and curious infant, Marietta asked about it.
Angel replied with a soft, "My son."
Judith's friends looked up, surprised, and Judith managed to catch Claire's eye before she asked further questions, telling her silently that it wasn't the time. Marietta, having somewhat better social grace, seemed to sense it without being told and flipped to the next one.
Judith shared an admiring glance with Angel when they passed a particularly lovely one of Cordelia. He'd managed to capture the light in her eyes especially well.
When Marietta turned to the last one, all three women gasped.
"When did you draw that?" Judith looked up at Angel incredulously.
"A few nights ago," Angel replied with a slight shrug. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. You just looked so peaceful..." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Well," Marietta cleared her throat after a moment. "These are lovely. I have to admit, I was beginning to wonder if you had a more sensitive side. I just couldn't see Judith falling for someone so brazen, and who wears leather trousers."
Judith snorted in agreement. "First of all, I haven't 'fallen.' That's important. But also, Angel's not usually like this. He does have other sides."
Angel smiled. "Of course I do," he said, taking the sketchpad back. "Lots of them."
"Wait," Claire frowned. "So you've been acting this whole time?"
"When you get to be my age," Angel said from the bookshelf where he was temporarily replacing the sketchpad, "it's not so much 'acting' as it is 'layers.'" He returned to his seat and picked up his cards.
"What do you mean?" Claire asked.
"I mean I am brazen, I am quiet, I am sexy, I am humble…" Angel rolled a wrist, gesturing as his examples went on. "Though that last one not very often," he admitted. "I'm good, I'm evil… We all are, I've just had enough time to practice moving between them; to be one thing for a time before moving on."
He glanced between Claire and Marietta. "Just because you act differently around, say, Judith than you do around your children doesn't mean you're acting for one and not the other: you're just being the kind of person that whoever you're with needs you to be."
There was silence for a moment while everyone thought about what he said. Just when Claire took a breath to say something, Angel stopped her.
"No," he replied. "I will never be anything for Judith other than what she needs."
There was silence for a long time; looks exchanged. Finally, Angel ended the bidding by jumping to seven spades, and they played Bridge.
Angel leaned against the door after closing it behind Claire and Marietta a few hours later and looked at Judith.
"Do you think I passed?" he asked with a self-satisfied grin.
Judith crossed her arms. "If I were you, they would be the least of my worries."
Angel raised an amused eyebrow. "Yeah? What should I be worried about?"
"Me, of course." Judith took several steps toward Angel and stopped just within arm's reach. "And the damage you might have done tonight."
"Damage?" Angel scoffed, suddenly becoming serious and more himself than he had been all night-whatever he otherwise claimed about "layers."
"Look, Judith," Angel said looking into her eyes to reinforce his solemnity, "I really don't give a rat's ass what your friends think of me. And I don't think you do, either."
Judith faltered.
"You care what you think they think of you for being with who they think I am."
If Judith followed him correctly - and it took her a minute to be sure she did - he was right.
"Therefore," Angel held up a finger like a professor at a lecture. "I concocted a plan that amazed and astonished, and you will never have to worry about appearances with me again. And all you had to do was play Bridge, eat good food, and drink spiked iced tea. Honestly," he gestured to himself and his entire setup, "what could have been better?"
Judith shifted uncomfortably. She appreciated his thought, she really did. But she felt like he had gone through too much trouble. She gave a little sigh. "You bought a very expensive table for something as trivial as my reputation," she told him.
Angel looked at the table in question. "I needed something for this room anyway."
"You don't like being social."
"I do when I want to be. I told you: layers."
Judith cocked her hip, crossing her arms yet again. So softly she could hardly hear herself, she said her final argument, "It's an awful lot of trouble just for a friend…"
That finally gave Angel pause. He stared at her across the short gap between them, and after a long moment, his expression turned into something that was as uncomfortable as it was earnest.
"Judith," he said softly, "don't read that far into it. Nothing's changed. Sometimes, I like big gestures, and you've qualified for the no-gesture-is-too-big category for a long time, now."
Had she, then?
"I didn't know you had that category with people."
"Only a few," he replied.
Judith's shoulders relaxed, the tension beginning to slide off. "Well," she finally said. "I hope your plan worked. No more social visits. No more leather trousers."
Angel glanced down at himself again, seeming for the first time self-conscious about his outfit. "You really don't like it?" he asked.
She was caught a bit off guard by how earnest he sounded. She looked at his outfit again, now without the context of her friends around. The trousers were rather becoming to him, sliding over his curves as intimately as her hands sometimes did, the material looking softer and smoother than skin. Their dark color matched his hair and the depth of his eyes, tying his being together neatly with the deep red silk of the shirt in a way that was wholly him.
"You wore leather trousers in front of my friends…" she still protested, but this time more weakly than before.
Angel glanced down at his trousers and then back up. "Can I wear these in front of you?"
Judith opened her mouth to give a huffy response, but then she closed it again when she realized it would have come out more playful than huffy. After a moment, she slowly stepped forward and inhaled. The rich, animal scent of the leather made her nose and throat tingle. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. Judith reached out and lightly ran her fingers along the leather waistband under his red silk shirt. Angel sucked in a small breath.
Judith looked up. "I'll think about it."