"Aw… he’s so cute when he’s sleeping"
"Spike? He’s… what?… I mean, I guess… Better than he’s awake, anyway. Asleep not in my chair would be even better, though."
"So how come he is?"
"Well, he shuts up for one thing. Can’t follow me around. And I guess the way his mouth hangs open is kind of…"
"Uh, Angel, I kind of meant to ask why he’s sleeping in your chair."
"Oh. I knew that. I just. I mean - I wasn’t going to let him drive home."
"I thought the drugs would’ve worn off by now"
"Oh, they have. I think - he seemed normal enough when I talked to him. Normal for Spike, anyway."
"So why can’t he drive?"
"I - I don’t think his hands are working quite right yet. Apparently he’s going to struggle with fine motor skills for a bit. And, you know, he would have taken one of my cars, and he’s hardly the safest driver at the best of times, and he probably would have crashed it, and then I’d have to deal with that plus have one less car…"
"So it’s just about the car."
"Spike sleeping in your office"
"What else would it be about? It’s not about Spike. Why would you say that? Of course it’s not about Spike. I hate Spike. Spike’s annoying. If Spike died in a car crash I would be laughing."
"Ye - look, would you stop saying that?"
The two figures stand silhouetted in the light from the doorway. Angel leans his weight on the door handle while Fred stands beside him, hands clutched in front of her. They both peer into the darkness at the figure sprawled across Angel’s desk chair.
"So how come he’s got your jacket round his shoulders?"
"… He would have taken the viper."
*if you can’t tell the dialogue goes fred angel fred angel