Where was his goddamn Oscar? For the past few days, Angel has been putting on the performance of his life. The mopey sad sack self from yester year was just a figment of Alastor's imagination. He made up some bullshit excuse about his sudden disappearance to Charlie. Something about him going on a five day bender and lost track of time because he was so high. Of course Charlie was disappointed in his behavior, but honestly, he was used to it. It was far better than her knowing the truth, that he was held captive by his abusive pimp in his fucking sex dungeon strung up like a birthday balloon for his personal amusement. And thanks to Alastor's voodoo magic shit, he looked almost good as new.

But today, Angel woke up with a cold pit in his guts. Tonight was the night he had to return or face a repeat performance. Thankfully he knew that today Al and Charlie was going to have some boring ass meeting about the welfare of the hotel. Crap that didn't involve him. He was just going to waltz out like it was your average day and no one would be the wiser.

Slinking down the stairs, Angel made his way to the ground floor to prance his ass straight out those doors when a humming caught his attention. Glancing back he saw the radio demon enjoying a piping hot cup of coffee at Husker's bar. Was their meeting already over? Well shit...

Not to raise suspensions, Angel flashed a toothy grin. "Evening Smiles~"