La Dee Da. They're Still Someone Else's.
Buffy was muttering to herself, digging through her purse to make sure she'd grabbed everything she thought she might need for her quick shopping trip to pick out something for her friend, and she used that term lightly, Cordelia's birthday. Buffy knew no matter what she bought it would surely not be enough for Queen C. She could already feel her eyes getting tired for having to roll all night, her insides churning in preparation for swallowing down her annoyance with the pretty brunette. The two of them had never really gotten along. Hell, no one truly got along with Cordelia Chase, but one of her actual friends, Xander, had saw something in her that it seemed no one else could and was smitten with her. So, they all put up with her. It sure was a task though, that was for sure.
Buffy was fiddling with getting her purse to zip when she dropped her keys to the ugly green carpeted floor of her apartment building. The place was nice enough but it had it's flaws. She made a face as she bent down to pick them up, only to find herself making another, more disgusted one, when she heard grunting.
Unable to stop herself, Buffy's head turned toward the noise. The apartment from which it was coming from had the propped open to the world. The place was big, open, much like her own apartment yet pretty empty. And somehow a little messy. There were a few guys with tool belts, measuring tapes and clipboards tinking about to the side, a short black haired guy in a tee shirt and ripped jeans pretending to act like he was listening to the men as they spoke, to be interested in anything going on, then almost dead center of her line of vision was a large, handsome male laid out on a weight bench, work out machine thing which sent her heart into a fast series of pitter patters.
She slowly began to stand, not even registering in, nor her mouth that fell agape to take him in.
He had only a pair of dark blue shorts with black lining poking out at the bottoms and a pair of blue and white sneakers with white socks poking out from them. His hair was spikey-like, dark brown, wet with sweat. Which, his entire body was. His powerful looking arms, his chest, legs... all were oiled slick with his very manly sweat. Something which Buffy would have otherwise found quite disgusting all in itself but not today. His body moved fluidly as did the equipment. There were soft clanking noises from the metal and a few grunts coming from the man's mouth.
Buffy's hand fluttered to her chest, feeling it racing at what she thought had to be a dangerous pace. Then, it stopped, restarted, and went into hyper drive when the guy's head had suddenly turned toward her. Brown eyes looked at her, a hunger matching her own greeting her, as well as a spark of amusement. Buffy felt a blush creep up her entire body, never having felt more foolish in her life. Well, that was until a few seconds later when he had the gall to start showing off with some trick looking things, a look of cockiness joining the others. Buffy strangled out a noise then shook her head and forced her legs, which felt like they were made with lead, to move her away from this hell zone she found herself stuck in.
Angel was having an impossible time. He'd been staring at a blank canvas for over three hours, that he knew of. And before that, he had stared at another one. One in which he had stared at, then drew a random black squiggle on for some hope that might trigger something, then just stared at that for awhile. When he got tired, he put it to the side and grabbed another. And back to staring.
It was annoying.
The mood was perfect. It was late into the evening, the moon was full tonight, the lights were dimmed just right, soft music floated in from the other room matching nicely with the rain pelting down outside. His stomach was full, his hopes were supposed to be high. But nothing seemed to want to inspire him, nothing at all.
Angel sighed and stood, stretching his muscles for a bit. He rolled his head and massaged his neck, walking around his bedroom. His eyes swept the still rather bare room, his brain kicking into reciting a list of things he still needed, adding a few more too.
Sighing again, he walked over to his window and looked out at the moon, the sky, the rain. Squinting some and pressing his face closed to the cool glass, he looked across the street, looked at the fancy looking streetlights, then followed a flicker he saw out of the corner of his eyes to look down at the street below and off the left. He felt an odd warmth flow through his veins as he looked down at the young blonde woman who lived a floor above him. He'd seen her a few times, including once he remembered fondly of her checking out his goods as he worked out in the sitting area. Good times.
The blonde had her face up to the sky, her body sort of bowed, her arms stretched out to the sides of her like she was pretending to be a bird or something. She was drenched head to toe but sure didn't seem to mind as she just stood there, basking.
Curious, Angel pulled his blinds up then quietly lifted his window up in order to see a little more clearer. There was still a screen in his way but it would do.
Pulling up a seat, he crossed his arms on the window sill and dropped his chin down on top of them and found something much more interesting to stare at. After all, it was only fair.