( rp ) look at this heart-shaped wreckage. what have we done?

[believable]

[ see elena.

see elena heading toward one of the bars on whichever deck you see fit.

see elena serving herself a drink because boys men suck and she has had it with this ship.



enjoy. ]

Comments

[convents]

He thought it was a touch ridiculous at first, had brushed off Doyle's insistence and tried to maintain the solitary lifestyle he'd adopted in the wake of departing from Sunnydale. But he hadn't been able to, because Doyle got him out there and made him open his eyes to the bigger picture, to see more of it than he was willing to see before. Whistler had put him on the right path to getting there, had directed him to Sunnydale knowing he wouldn't find solid footing there, knowing he would flee to the City of Angels and find his calling there.

Angel's at a point in his life where he wouldn't change it for the world. This is what he does, and he'll keep doing it for as long as he manages to live.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

[believable]

"It suits you," Elena says with a smile quirked faintly to the side.

She doesn't know him, of course, but there's just something about him and the way that he says it. She can tell that it suits him. It's his purpose, and he commits to it faithfully. She can admire that in a person. Elena isn't someone that's lacked conviction in her own beliefs, but she'd hardly call them so selfless.

"And I'm sorry, for earlier. I didn't mean to bite your head off. It's been a long day."

[convents]

"I assure you, I've nearly had my head bitten off by bigger and badder things. Literally."

Honestly, being snipped at by a girl with a lot on her mind is the least of his concerns. He can take it. He's got a high tolerance — he lives with Cordelia, after all.