@braechen {continued from X}
Faith often lingered in the pause after a good shower. The space where your skin was scalding and the air outside was cold, and sometimes steam still curled from your arm in little ghostly wisps. Given that she wasn’t the Slayer to be throwing herself after the biggest of bads and the most now-ish of apocalypses, she had a plenty open dance card to help Angel and his gang do some of the dirty work in Los Angeles. Altruism, plus it never hurt to have a reliable place to wash off and lay her head.
The Slayer had her hands full hooking her bra closed, hair wrapped in a towel with very little else by way of modesty when Doyle blustered into the room, head in a book. Either the team had gotten info on that demon far, far sooner than Faith expected, or she was in the shower a lot, lot longer than she realized. She wasn’t embarrassed by the intrusion, no- but the young man certainly seemed to be. She had that effect on guys sometimes. “You got it, boss,” she hummed as Doyle fumbled for the door and swung it shut behind him.
Faith finished toweling her hair, quickly slipping into her jeans and a fresh shirt before stepping out to meet the others, the amusement still playing on her lips. Her eyes darted to Doyle and she gave him a wolfish grin. “This better be worth putting clothes on for. What’cha got for me?”