Angel rubbed his eyes, avoiding the makeup he had used over his dark circles. Smudge proof concealer cost far too much to splurge on, but now he was seriously considering it.. "Back up. What happened exactly?"
Vaggie let out a shaky breath and Cherri awkwardly patted her back, looking like she'd rather be in bed recovering from the relapse she had just the day before. "Charlie's missing. She wasn't in our room last night, and I thought she would be a bit late so I went to sleep but then I woke up and she still wasn't there so I decided to look around and I couldn't find her anywhere," she rambled, looking more put off than Angel had ever seen her. That was the first time he had heard her rant and show more emotion than annoyance. "She isn't answering her phone and I can't see her location either."
Husk frowned. "I guess it couldn't hurt to look around," he said slowly. Angel would've cracked a smile and made a joke to lighten the suddenly thick tension in the air, but he felt too out of it to do so. He'd been feeling out of it for a while.
The silence expanded until Alastor, who had been standing in the corner so silent that Angel had almost forgotten he was there, spoke, flashing his signature grin. "Are you quite sure that this is something to worry about?" The questions seemed more like a statement as if Alastor was simply waiting out things he knew would happen.
Vaggie shuddered, standing up and erasing any expression from her face. At that moment, she looked a bit scared. "Yes," she said softly, so quiet against the silence that it felt like a slap back to reality. "I have a bad feeling." She looked down, fisting her hands. "A really bad feeling."
Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression too blank to pull any information from. "Well then. Get to searching."
Everyone began dispersing and Angel slumped into a couch, curling his legs up to his chest. The constant thudding in his head was driving him crazy.
"Hey," Cherri touched his shoulder. "You okay?"
Angel forced a lazy grin, stretching out his limbs. "Just tired," he intoned. "I wasn't exactly expecting to wake up at fucking FOUR am in the morning!" He shouted the last part to Vaggie who was behind the counter. An echoing "fuck you!" flashed from the general direction, with a bit more hate than usual. He didn't mind if she took out the stress of the situation on him. He was used to it anyway.
Cherri frowned at him in a way that told Angel she knew that he wasn't just tired. With a sideways glance at Adam, who was observing everything from his seat in an isolated chair, that wasn't quite as hateful as usual, she ran to one of the hallways.
Husk elbowed Angel. "Let's check Charlie's room. Chances are she might have left a note or something."
Angel groaned and made a show of getting up from the couch. "Fine, but you better pour me a few drinks after this." He slid his hands down his face, leaving slight red marks. "Strong ones."
"You know it."
Every step forward felt like it took tonnes of energy, zapping everything from his bones. He hadn't felt right after Valentino dismissed him casually. It wasn't like he didn't hate the moth demon - wasn't this what he had always wanted? Just a break?
But he couldn't help but feel like something wasn't right, like things had flipped around and upside down and nothing was the same anymore. The only problem was that Angel couldn't tell if it was good or bad. All he knew was that something was up with his boss, and considering that it was the person who owned his soul, he couldn't help but feel squeamish inside, like the time Molly had brought him to a rollercoaster and he threw up right after.
His stomach lurched at the thought of his twin, whom he had forced himself not to think about. She was good and had ended up in Heaven, he knew it. He was sure she had made a life for herself, with her girlfriend and a cat like she had always wanted. Without me. He would never tell anyone, but one of the biggest reasons he had joined the hotel was the chance, however small it may be, for him to go to Heaven and be reunited with his other half.
