“Angel Investigations, we help the hopele– -”

She trails off as their client steps into view. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a fashion sense that she was never quite sure what to make of, meant this could be none of than– -
“Buffy? What are you doing here?”
Cordelia’s struck by the image before her. She had heard about what happened to Buffy, how she came back, but seeing one...
She wants to pick at her elbows. Her fingers ache for distraction: thorny vulnerability rests low in her gut, as well as...