Baleflower Gardens

Faith poked her head into the room that Angel had woken up in, her 'stake' pulled back to ear level in case something were to jump her.

"Angel." Faith mimicked Angel sarcastically as she entered the room, "Where the hell have you been? You missed all the good shit. Werewolf, cemetery, and some hot Mexican chick who's got my cigarettes."

"Werewolf and cemetery. What the hell are you looking for, your fluffy cotton tail?"

"Yeah, a whole mosh pit of angry mental patients downstairs. C'mon." Faith didn't excercise caution as she headed back out into the hallway. She started off of the landing and downstairs, not bothering to wait for Angel.

Faith paused and then glanced back behind her. She shrugged off the feeling of being watched and left the staircase.

Downstairs in a walkin closet down near the foyer Spike shifted and a pair of red trainers tumbled down from the pile that covered him.  With a violent start as he woke in panic and shouted, "I'm drownin' in footwear!"

Tumbling out of the pile he managed to find the handle and spill out onto the floor outside the closet.  He pulled himself to his feet and brushed off his jeans and looked around hoping no one had witnessed that.

Holding his forehead, hoping the pain would ebb, Angel headed downstairs the way Faith had gone earlier. He found himself in the hallway and eventually the foyer, but came across no one.

With a guilt-panged wince, Jack creeps, very carefully and quietly, over to the broken window and starts awkwardly maneuvering himself through the glass until he's outside. Once he's clear of the window, he makes a break for it, daintily mad-dashing off the property at roughly twenty miles per hour. (Two-hundred and thirty years has done nothing to straighten out his run.)

Angel took a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He looked up at his surroundings and slowly stood, unable to recall even the last few moments. He looked confused again and whispered, "Faith? I saw..." he sighed and shook his head, blinking his eyes, "I thought I saw..."

Heaving himself in the direction of the kitchen, Angel made his way through the thin corridor and into the brightly lit deco nightmare. He turned on the cold water after unsuccessfully trying the hot, then leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Angel turned the water off and turned around, his back to the sink and wall now. He stared the way he'd just come,- more clear headed, more determined,- and slowly a pale-lipped smirk spread up one side of his face.

At once more agile than he was previously, Angel did a little Jackson Five meets The Pips spin in place as he walked back for the foyer and the front door, and double-snap/pointed at the door. He smoothied out of the building and headed for the street, "Here I come, better run, Disco Demon..."