The Hyperion Hotel | Los Angeles, CA | Thursday Afternoon Fandom Time

[wesleynotponcy]

Wesley was fond of Angel. Really, he was. And he quite liked working for Angel Investigations, and it certainly gave him a sense of purpose, but all the same... he had no interest at all in looking for this woman's address. No, while Cordelia might be poring over the telephone book, Wesley was focusing a bit more on something he considered rather more important: looking up Darla herself.

"Having any luck?" Cordelia called over her phone book from the front desk.

Wesley froze. "I'm sorry?"

Cordelia	"I said," Cordelia repeated, enuciating, "are you having any luck?"
Wesley	"Er." Wesley looked down at his book -- an account of vampiric atrocities from the nineteenth century. "Well, ah. That depends on the sort of luck to which you're referring." That wasn't sketchy at all, Wes.
Cordelia	Oh, Wes. Oh, Wes. Cordelia's heels clacked against the floor as she made her way briskly across the lobby to look at the book in his hands and -- "Oh my god! You're not looking up addresses at all, are you?"
Wesley	Slightly abashed, Wesley glanced away. "Er. Not in so many words."
Cordelia	"Not in any words, you mean!" Cordelia looked appalled, really. "You're looking up --" she squinted at the book. "What are you looking up?"
Wesley	"Well," Wesley said, clearing his throat. "Darla, actually."
Cordelia	"What's there to look up?" Cordelia pointed out reasonably. "Angel's partner-in-crime for a hundred years, yadda yadda yadda, helped him torture tons of innocents, croaked in Sunnydale my sophomore year. What else is there to know?"
Wesley	Wesley's tone was mild when he explained, "I rather thought I might look for a picture."
Cordelia	"A picture? A picture? That--" Cordelia paused. "Makes a ton of sense, actually."
Wesley	"I thought so," Wesley agreed.
Cordelia	"So what have you found?" Cordelia asked, taking a seat on the couch beside him.
Wesley	"Not terribly much, I'm afraid," Wesley admitted. "It appears that Darla wasn't much for allowing herself to be, well, drawn. Really more of the, ah, kill-and-run type."
Cordelia	"Angel sure knows how to pick 'em," Cordelia groused, taking a seat on the couch. "Anything else?"
Wesley	"Well, the woman we encountered does seem to fit the general description," he admitted. "Blonde, rather young-looking, fairly small in stature..."
Cordelia	"So his usual type, then." Thank you, Cordelia.
Wesley	"Generally speaking," Wesley admitted. "And -- well -- there is one other thing."
Cordelia	"What's that?"
Wesley	Wesley took a breath and flipped back several pages, coming to settle on a particularly graphic account of one of Darla's torturing sprees. "She was always rather fond of games."

Not long afterward, the phone rang...

Cordelia	Cordelia picked up the phone on the first ring. "Angel Investigations! We help the helpless. How can we help you?"
Angel	"It's me," Angel grunted. "Did you get an address?"
Cordelia	Cordelia leaned over the desk and covered the receiver, informing Wesley, "It's him." Back into the phone, she said, "We did. And Wesley and I just want you to know that you have our full and complete--"
Angel	"Address, Cordelia. Now."
Cordelia	Cordelia gave a weary sigh. "DeEtta and Stephen Kramer own a home at 1409 Galloway in Studio City."
Angel	"Got it," Angel said, and he hung up.
Cordelia	Looking less than entirely certain, Cordelia put the phone down herself. "He hung up."
Wesley	Wesley exhaled. "Do you suppose we made the right choice, telling him that? What if it isn't her?"
Cordelia	Cordelia pondered that. "Then... we're just going to have to hope Angel knows enough to figure it out." Cordelia was the best at helping.

[[stuff under the top cut is all mine, in a very 'dear god wesley is not holding the idiot ball for this long' sort of way, and most of what's under the second cut is from angel 2x05 "dear boy." nfi/nfb.]]