||[Sep. 12th, 2006|10:24 pm]
I put down the phone with a sigh. The Headmaster of the Watchers' Academy had been coldly polite, but I received the brunt of his disappointment. The Skilosh were back. Young Watchers in training were sprouting a third eye in the back of their skulls like there was no tomorrow.
I wasn't shocked that the bastards would go back on their word. I was getting respect for them to dare break a contract set up by Wolfram and Hart. I try to stifle the sliver of pleasure at the idea of having a legitimate reason to call Lilah. I ask my assistant to call Ms. Morgan.
Her assistant puts her through. The cool tone reaches me almost perfectly accurate through the electronic medium. It sends the now familiar shiver through me. For the past month, we've been seeing each other at least once a week. That's uncannily often for people with our schedule. Or our chosen sides. I never dared to take things further with her. I know it's stupid, but I feel we're on the path of becoming friends. The way secret agents sometimes do, despite being on opposite sides. Most of the time, I feel I have the sexual attraction under control. Never when we're on the phone. Because I can close my eyes and shudder in silence when her voice caresses me, without seeming weak, or libidinous.
I hone my tone into friendly-business-like casual.
We exchange vague pleasantries, but I don't procrastinate.
"That Skilosh problem isn't over. I've got a call from the Academy. They're back."
Pryce too busy to talk to me? That would be the day!
She's wrong about Angel, though. I never liked the guy, not just because he's a vampire, but because of what he did to Buffy. That love cost both their souls. His literally. Still, whatever else he is, he is a champion. And he does know more shades of gray than she can imagine. Maybe that's why he is so harsh with the people who fight in his corner. The slide through gray into black is too easy. Even I know it.
Lilah finally falls quiet. I'm a little sorry for her. She seems to have gotten her heart broken. That's not easy for anyone, no matter how evil you are. Or maybe it's even harder for them because love's not altruistic on their side. I'd have what to tell her. I could even manage to comfort her. But she's not one of my girls, is she? It's not my responsibility to make her feel better.
"Yes, well, I'll think about it," I say drowsily. "Are we there yet?" I ask, opening one eye.
I hope it'll make her smile. That is the most annoying thing, childish thing I could say now. I must miss my kids more than I realized. I used to hate taking them to the mall because of the thousand times an hour they asked 'are we there yet'.
She needs some fun in her life. Coming from me, that's downright scary.