Of course, once we got downstairs, the few people we did manage to find were all in pretty intense or closed-off conversations. There was a weird, kind of disconnected feeling to being a leader and not really seeming to have anything to do at the moment.
When it became apparent that there really was nobody around who was free or inclined to do any talking. Buffy and I just sort of shrugged at each other, and went looking for someplace else to have a seat other than the floor in a hallway. We found ourselves in the small kitchen, the one we used instead of the massive industrial-sized kitchen that served the hotel's old banquet rooms.
It wasn't exactly a gourmet's dream, but all of the mortal members of Angel Investigations had insured that the place had the very finest-- and very strongest-- coffee we could manage, even on our paltry budget. So, I fixed two mugs of the stuff, wrapping my hands around my mug just to feel the warmth and smell the aroma, and sliding the other to Buffy.
"Well," I said, smirking, "I'm feeling pretty superfluous at the moment, how 'bout you? Seems like we're just gonna have to wait to hear back from our people, huh?"
((Open to Buffy.))