Doyle adjusted the tie around his neck with nervous fingers. Sure, and it was from a charity shop, but Cordelia would appreciate that he’d made an effort to look good for her. Wouldn’t she?

He swaggered in. Cordelia didn’t even look up. He didn’t smell of money, only desperate, and those weren’t the clients she preferred. He coughed, trying to make it sound like a greeting not a fatal illness, and got Angel’s attention instead.

“Doyle?”

“Yes?”

“When were you ever in the SAS?”

The tie was in his pocket before Cordelia looked up to see why Angel was laughing.



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