She was not the materialistic creature she once was, but the waste of a commercial opportunity still irked her. The young seer rolled her eyes in despair at her boyfriend’s complacent attitude. Ultimately, it wasn’t what his un-life was about.
To be honest, as long as it paid the rent, he wasn’t particularly bothered about his company’s overall turnover. “Not really.” Angel casually shrugged off her insult.
“Do you have any idea what a place like this can make in one night?” “Given that attitude, it’s hardly a surprise that Angel Investigations isn’t what you’d call a profit-making venture, now is it?” she said, caustically remarking on the vampire’s total lack of business acumen. “I thought he might shut up shop for another day after everything that has happened.”Ĭordelia huffed disapprovingly at his comment. “I guess Lorne decided to open up the Club tonight,” Angel said, as he walked around to the passenger side to help his injured friend out of the car. The muffled boom-boom sound of the bass from the Karaoke machine could be heard outside in the alleyway, mixed together with, what could only be described as caterwauling from someone – or something – murdering Bon Jovi’s ‘Living on a Prayer.’ Therefore, when the shiny black Plymouth finally drew to a stop directly opposite the private side entrance to Caritas, Wesley breathed a grateful sigh of relief. The vampire was carefully manoeuvring his vehicle through the minefield of potholes decorating the road, but it would take the car metamorphosing into a hovercraft to avoid all the bumps. “Sorry,” Angel apologised for the umpteenth time. The street alongside Caritas was pitted worse than a teenager’s acne scarred skin, and every jolt sent shooting pains through his stiff and aching muscles. Wesley winced as the Plymouth unavoidably hit another rut.