Taylor watched as Wesley made his way over to the coffee machine, putting on a fresh new pot. In mere moments the air was filled with the sweet aromatic scent of the coffee, with hints of… hazelnut perhaps? She had always been a coffee person and was the type that needed a cup every morning to start her day. It has gotten to the point where she would be in the worst mood without a cup o’ Joe, which were usually accompanied with a blaring migraine and lethargy that seemed like it would last for days if she didn’t get her caffeine fix. She didn’t even realize that she didn’t have her coffee yet, until Wesley asked. She had been in such a rush to leave her hotel to come to Angel Investigations that nothing else seemed to have crossed her mind.
But now that she was here, and even though the atmosphere was welcoming and Wesley was kind, Taylor still had a sinking feeling that she shouldn’t have come. She was obviously scared; I mean who wouldn’t be? She felt like she was about to plunge into the world of the unknown, and that is what frightened her more than anything. Once again, it was Wesley’s words that pulled her from her sort of daydream, just some small talk to fill the awkward silence that threatened to come about if he didn’t keep talking.
“You’re lucky Cordelia’s not in today. At least, for the coffee. If we’re judging this meeting based on social skills, you’re probably unlucky, actually.”
At that, Taylor could not help but smile at his little jab towards his fellow coworker, and with his endearing tone, she could tell that he was also fond of this Cordelia person. He had her cup of coffee in his hand and before he sat down in the large spinny chair across the desk from her, he extended his arm to give her the cup. She nodded before taking the cup, replying with a jesting smirk, “Thanks. And I’m not too picky when it comes to coffee. I’m sure I’ve had worse than Cordelia’s. As long as there’s caffeine involved, count me in.”
She was starting to ramble, which was a habit of hers when she was nervous. She knew that the filler small talk couldn’t last forever, and that she would eventually have to spill. It’s not like she was being held for interrogation or something; she had brought this upon herself. If it wasn’t for Wesley getting down to business, Taylor had to admit that she probably would have never gotten to the point.
“I’m guessing you understand exactly what it is we do, here?”
How would, “I heard you deal with weird shit” sound in a casual conversation? Pursing her lips gently, she offered Wesley a sort of unsure nod but still didn’t say anything, allowing him to press on.
“We investigate the supernatural. Maintain secrecy, protect those who need our protection, educate those who require education.”
Bingo. Supernatural. Like the TV show that everyone kept going on about, except she had never gotten into it herself.
"You strike me as a mix of the last two," he said with a sad smile. "I’ve seen it before… Probably too many times, but you aren’t alone, Taylor. You don’t have to be. What’s wrong?"
What’s wrong? Everything was wrong. She was broke. She had dropped everything she had to move to a country on the other side of the world. She was running out of clothes to wear. Oh, and she was responsible for killing a bunch of people at the show that was supposed to change her life, but no big deal. It sure as hell changed her life but not in the way she had intended it to. But, she figured that the man in front of her wasn’t too interested in hearing her bitch and moan about her financial issues and lack of a wardrobe, so she took a deep breath before beginning to retell the story of the Rockwood night for the first time ever.
She began with how big the show was supposed to be. She told him about how it started off fanfuckingtastic, then she hesitated a moment before telling him about the man in the blue shirt. And then for the big finale, she ended it with the wailing part, in which she tried to describe it to him and imitate it in a less eardrum shattering way. (“It was sorta like a, ‘eeeeeaaahHHHHhHh… hhhh….ah’ but more, you know, shrill and stuff.”) After she finished with seeing the man in the blue shirt get hit by a car outside of the Rockwood, Taylor grew quiet and stared down at her hands again before peeking up at Wesley through the curtain of her hair that had fallen in front of her face, her voice meek and shaky.
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