Cordelia insists that I have one of these things. Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I'm not home right now, so please leave a message, and I'll be back with you as soon as I can.
Ooc: Wesley's mun can also be reached via this post.
The hardest decision I ever had to make was in Pylea. We had to storm the castle to rescue the princess (Cordelia) and to hopefully free everyone else from slavery. I had to send in a number of men to a part of the castle where I knew that their odds of survival were slim to none. It wasn't something that I wanted to do. However, if I had tried to keep them all alive, we would have failed and more than likely we all would have died. It was the best way for the rest of us to actually be able to get into the castle. It wasn't my proudest moment, but it is something that, if I had to do again, I think I would.
Wesley didn't really sleep that night. How could he? Cordelia actually confided in him that she was dying because of these mystical visions that she had been given. He went through every book that he could find in his apartment trying to figure out a way to keep them from killing her. Of course, just going on that idea alone left many possibilities open. Too many to properly research, in fact. How could he look for a way to do it when he didn't really know of one single way?
Well, that's untrue. He did know of one way: get rid of the visions completely. Of course, Cordelia would never agree to that. If he did it without telling her, she'd never forgive him. He didn't want that. Plus, who was to say that taking the visions away from her wouldn't kill her instantly? For all he knew, they may be what was holding her together at the moment. Or at least the Powers that Be were the ones holding her together.
With all of this on his mind, he went in to the Hyperion the next day. Gunn's truck hadn't moved from the spot he parked it in last night, so it was obvious where he spent the night at. He went inside and went straight to the coffee pot. While Cordelia's skills in coffee making were legendary in their...inadequacies, right now he needed anything with caffeine in it.
1.) Buy every book that we might ever need.
2.) Take everyone on a vacation away from here for a while.
3.) Hire someone to clean the weapons when we get back from a night out.
4.) Take Cordelia clothes shopping and Gunn shopping for video games.
5.) Hire someone to clean the hotel.
6.) Restore the hotel.
7.) Find a way to fix the windows so that the sun wouldn't burn Angel.
8.) Replace some of the old weapons.
9.) Also buy Cordelia some of those 'manolos' that she likes to go on about.
10.) Buy Fred more tacos.
Demons are something that are an every day part of my life. I have been trained to fit them since I was a little boy. If I am honest, I've been trained to fit them since I was in the womb. I was supposed to be a great Watcher. Things didn't turn out like my father had planned, so, of course, the first thing he did was tell me what a failure I was and that I wasn't worth the Wyndam-Pryce name.
My opinion on demons now isn't quite so black and white as it was when I first arrived in the United States. Technically, I work with the former Scourge of Europe. Not something that I would write home about, but now I do work that I'm proud of. I save people's lives. I have people that I can call a family.
All of this is because I fight demons, at least the bad sort that tend to want to do things like sacrifice babies and eat innocent people.
Ten reasons to get up in the morning.
1.) Fighting the good fight.
2.) A good cup of morning tea.
4.) My friends (Family, to tell the truth.)
6.) The translation I'm working on right now in hopes of keeping the bill collectors away from the Hyperion.
7.) Tasty donuts, especially chocolate covered ones.
8.) To make sure that everyone is taken care of.
9.) In hopes that Angel will be back today.
10.) Just in case Cordelia has a vision.
Since Angel left us, I haven't been so sure of what to do around here. I'm technically the leader of Angel Investigations now, but things have been kind of quiet over this summer. Good for the world, but, as Cordelia would say, bad for business. We really weren't making any money as of late. I had pulled into the last little bit of my meager savings to help pay the bills, but even that was going to cover things for long. I can only hope that a paying customer would come in, or, god forbid, Cordelia would have a vision of a paying customer.
Now I'm beginning to sound like her.
Not like I could help it if I tried. I've been spending most of my time with her this summer. The girl we found in Pylea, Fred, mostly stays upstairs, only coming out when someone puts tacos beside her door. (I've never seen a woman eat so much of anything, much less tacos.) Gunn comes in to help when we need him, but he actually spends a good deal of time with Fred as well. They seem to be getting along quite well.
That leaves only Cordelia and I on the ground floor most days. The Powers that Bother Us have been leaving us mostly alone this summer, and I can't help but be relieved a little, even though a vision would direct us to a paying customer, maybe. I can see that they are getting worse, even though she won't admit to it to anyone. I just don't know by how much, though.
Today was another slow day, it seemed. Cordelia seemed content to file her nails at the desk while I did a translation that I had picked up for a little extra cash. Just about anything to pay the bills, these days.
((Open to Cordelia))
Wesley woke up the next day with a hangover from hell. He couldn't quite remember how he had gotten Buffy back to her place the night before or that morning, but she wasn't here now, so he figured he poured her into a taxi at some point. Of course, this only made him want to check on her. She had sort of become his only friend in the city, so he wanted to make sure that she had gotten to her place OK.
She had left him a number for her little apartment. It took him a little while to hunt the slip of paper down, in all of the mess, but he did finally locate it. He had to decipher it, through the drunken scribble, but he finally manged to figure out the phone number.
He figured that he would be waking her up, but it was almost four in the afternoon, so it was probably about time, anyway.
((Open to Buffy))