wesleynotponcy: (neu: checking someone out)
Weeks had passed for Wesley since Gunn's visit, and in the meantime he found himself on the receiving end of peace and quiet.

Well. 'Peace' probably wasn't the word -- he certainly didn't feel peaceful; on the contrary, he was and continued to be angrier than he'd ever been, albeit a cold kind of anger. But it certainly was quiet.

Then came a day when there was another knock on his door, and he was quicker to answer it than he'd been the last time. Call it loneliness, call it desperation for someone to talk to. Wesley honestly didn't care.

In which a book changes hands and lying abounds. )

[[from angel 3x20 "a new world." this is one of my favorite scenes in the whole show, omg. possibly number one. nfb, but open for phone calls, sure.]]
wesleynotponcy: (neg: angst)
Since his visit to Kennedy's last month, Wesley had thought a lot about trying to resume helping the helpless as best he could without being a part of the Angel Investigations team, but he hadn't been able to motivate himself just yet. For the most part, he'd found himself sticking to his time-honored solution for dealing with conflict, which was, of course, alcohol.

Then tonight - not that he could name what day of the week it was, or even confidently identify the time of day - there was a knock on his door.

There were plenty of people who it could theoretically be, only some of whom wanted to kill him, but Wesley didn't get his hopes up for anyone good. )

[[taken from angel 3x19 "the price." nfb/nfi.]]
wesleynotponcy: (warrior: defiant)

The debacle with the Sharpes had left Angel Investigations in a bit of a slump. When more than a day passed without so much as a phone call from another prospective client, and Cordelia found herself decidedly lacking in visions, Wesley couldn't think of anything to do besides give the others the night off. He stayed in the office for another few hours himself, and then, once it sunk in that there wasn't actually any work to be done, took a cab back to his place.

And there he sat, darkly and only half-seriously considering the idea of summoning a demon or two just to have something to fight, until he heard a noise.

And then he heard it again. )

[[nfb/nfi, some mild violence under the cut]]
wesleynotponcy: (neu: resolute)
So. This was what it felt like to have one's own place.


Wesley glanced over at Cordelia. Then at Charles. Then after several attempts to come up with something to say, he finally cleared his throat.

"It's not... terribly spacious, or perhaps as... luxurious as the dormitories, but it'll do."

Cordelia beamed and launched into a rant of sorts, clearly proud of her apartment-finding skills; Charles, on the other hand, looked decidedly more skeptical about the whole thing, but let it alone with just a head-shake and a couple of steps away from the creaking cabinets overhead.

"I, ah, I suppose I'd best get on with unpacking, then," Wesley said after a pause. "I'll see you both at Cordelia's in the morning?"

And then he could, well, get started with taking down some of the paintings that had been left behind, because they were just creepy.

[[nfb/nfi, obvs]]


wesleynotponcy: (Default)

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