Damn right I will. [Bitching is a tried and true hobby of Angel's -- though albeit one that's been less and less frequent around Husk himself, lately. Turns out it's a little more fun to laugh with the bartender than whine at him. Easier, too. Maybe one of the easiest things Angel's done since dying, which is...scary.
Still, he doesn't resist letting Husk lead him back inside, that last bit of tension slipping away as soon as they're inside the hotel. Amazing that the tacky place has become a sanctuary, somewhere that feels about a million miles away from Val and the studio and the rest of Hell. The insult gets a hoarse, raspy laugh.] Or the expensive-ass shoes he's walkin' in. Yeah, I hear ya.
[There's a brief pause, as Angel slowly runs his free hands (all three of them) over his own body, prodding gently to see what hurts. He can't really feel it otherwise -- these days Angel has to escape so far into his own head when he's at the studio that it's like his body belongs to someone else. Like he can't feel when something hurts or when he's so exhausted every muscle is screaming to collapse. A couple winces, a few tender spots on his ribs, his hips, but --]
Nothin's broken, don't think. He prolly didn't wanna wait for make-up to hide anythin' big. [Angel means it as a joke. It does not come out sounding like a joke.] Just my shoulder's real bad, though. [That had been Val yanking him around when he hesitated a little too long around hour 15 -- Angel remembers that much.] Should be fine with some ice.
[A pause, then, a little more genuinely cheeky:] Not that I'd say no to seein' ya in a cute little nurse's get-up, Husky~ If that's what you're offerin'.
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Still, he doesn't resist letting Husk lead him back inside, that last bit of tension slipping away as soon as they're inside the hotel. Amazing that the tacky place has become a sanctuary, somewhere that feels about a million miles away from Val and the studio and the rest of Hell. The insult gets a hoarse, raspy laugh.] Or the expensive-ass shoes he's walkin' in. Yeah, I hear ya.
[There's a brief pause, as Angel slowly runs his free hands (all three of them) over his own body, prodding gently to see what hurts. He can't really feel it otherwise -- these days Angel has to escape so far into his own head when he's at the studio that it's like his body belongs to someone else. Like he can't feel when something hurts or when he's so exhausted every muscle is screaming to collapse. A couple winces, a few tender spots on his ribs, his hips, but --]
Nothin's broken, don't think. He prolly didn't wanna wait for make-up to hide anythin' big. [Angel means it as a joke. It does not come out sounding like a joke.] Just my shoulder's real bad, though. [That had been Val yanking him around when he hesitated a little too long around hour 15 -- Angel remembers that much.] Should be fine with some ice.
[A pause, then, a little more genuinely cheeky:] Not that I'd say no to seein' ya in a cute little nurse's get-up, Husky~ If that's what you're offerin'.