Angel narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket on his way back to L.A. (he didn’t really want to explain to the nice officer why he didn’t have a driver’s license or insurance card or any official identification, or why he had a black sun shield over all but a narrow slit of his windshield), but he blended into the rest of the L.A. traffic by driving like a maniac for the last leg of the trip, and he arrived back at the Hyperion just after six.

Cordelia’s voice filtered through the door.

It was her acting voice--which, to be fair, had improved over the past year, but was still just a touch melodramatic--and she was saying, “it would be impossible for us to be together...”

Angel rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether to hide and keep listening, laugh and give himself away, or burst in the door and show Cordy a little of his vampire fighting ability.

Wesley’s voice followed Cordelia’s. “my Gypsy curse sometimes prevents me from seeing the truth. Oh, Buffy...”

“Yes, Angel?”

“I love you so much, I almost forgot to brood!”

Wesley deserved a little display of vampire fighting ability, too!

“And just because I sent you to hell that one time doesn’t mean we can’t just be friends. Oh!”

“Or possibly more!”

“Kiss me!”

“Bite me!’

Angel threw the door open, as Cordelia and Wesley jerked back from each other. “How about both of you bite me?” he said.

They didn’t even look guilty. “Those two about summed it up,” Angel said for Fred and Gunn’s benefit, “and to be honest, I really don’t want to talk about it.” His eyes darted all around the lobby. “You know what I need? Ice cream.”

No one was interested but Fred, which was just fine with Angel.

“Now we’ll never know what happened,” Cordelia said to his and Fred’s backs.

Score. “That’s right.”