Interlude - Part Three

Isobel has bad days too

The lobby door slammed behind Isobel as she skulked into the hotel.

"Damn," Angel said. "What crawled up your skirt?"

She stopped her angry footsteps and gave him an exhausted, exasperated glare. He was sitting on his usual barstool where he most likely had been all afternoon drinking and flirting with Husker, who stood just on the other side. Alastor, too, leaned his back against the bar, ankles crossed and elbows propped on the bartop. One could only imagine what kind of conversation these three could possibly be having. She shook her head and forced a smile.

"Nothing," she said and reminded herself that none of these men caused her irritation and they did not deserve the brunt of her fury. "People are just the worst."

"I can definitely drink to that," Husker said, whipping a towel over his shoulder.

"Well, I am currently pissed off," Isobel continued. "So I'm going to go upstairs to take a nap. Hopefully when I wake up, I will be in a better mood." She gave them all one last wistful smile, as she climbed the stairs and out of sight.

There was a silent pause before Angel spoke up again.

"So, uh, you going to do something about that?" He had been addressing Alastor, but it took a few moments before Alastor realized.

"Do what about what?" he finally answered, deeply confused.

"It's obvious Isobel is having a bad day. You going to comfort her or anything?"

Alastor wrinkled his nose. "Why would I do that?" What was Angel going on about? He was becoming quite bothersome.

"That's your girl, isn't it?"

"If she needed my assistance, she would have asked. Besides, it seems as though she already devised a plan for herself. She is going to take a nap."

He said 'nap' too clearly, really emphasizing the P sound. It made Angel uncomfortable, but he pressed on.

"Why don't you go up there and spoon her or something? Probably make her feel better quicker. And then when she wakes up she won't have a piss poor attitude that she takes it out on the rest of us."

Alastor searched his brain for the term 'spoon,' but came up short. What was it to 'spoon' another person? The only thing that came to mind was perhaps hitting her on the head with a metal spoon, but that didn't seem quite right. Though, it would be funny.

It was clear by his expression that Alastor did not know what Angel was talking about, which caused Angel to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh deeply.

"Spooning," he said, throwing his hands in the air. Why must he be surrounded by emotionally and intimately stunted idiots? "Like when you curl up behind someone. It's like cuddling."

Alastor's ears flattened and he snarled in disgust.

"No thank you," he said. "Besides, I know for a fact that Isobel, like I, does not like to be touched when she is sleeping." He smiled triumphantly.

"This is different. I know you don't have human emotions, but I think for the most part she does. Believe me, you'll thank me later."

Alastor glanced at Husker for some sign of reassurance, but Husk just shrugged and said, "It always works for me."

It took several more efforts of convincing, and Alstor only gave in to stop Angel from yammering on any longer. And so, very much against his own will, Alastor made his way to Isobel's room.

She was already curled up in bed, under the covers with eyes closed. But as the door clicked behind him, she lifted her head eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She was not expecting to see him at all. Why did he want to bother her when she was already mad? He crossed to the bed, tossing his jacket to the side, and then crawled in next to her, laying behind her, matching the shape of her body.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked, completely bewildered. She tensed up as if ready to bolt. He knew this was a mistake.

"I'm taking a nap." he answered begrudgingly, as he wrapped an arm around her.

"No you're not. You hate sleeping."

"Yes, well, someone recently told me it's good to try new things."

They laid in silence, Isobel fuming. She hated when he took things she said and threw them back at her. But it did seem like he was actually just trying to be nice to her, no matter how unnatural that kind of thing was to him.

"Alastor, you don't have to-"

"Hush."

"Don't hush me."

"You're incessant noise in ruining the experience."

"Fine."

If that was how it was going to be, she was at least going to do it right, out of spite. She shuffled until her back fully pressed against his chest, and took his arm and wrapped it tighter around herself. His muscles went stiff and she felt a great sense of satisfaction making him feel awkward. But eventually she felt him relax and the sensation of his steady breathing on the nape of her neck lulled her to sleep.

In the end Isobel woke up in a much better mood.