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Willow Rosenberg

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tainted_chance [Dec. 1st, 2004|01:57 am]
Willow Rosenberg
[Feeling... |nervousnervous]

I looked up his address, on a computer, which may or may not be illegal. Hopefully Angel won't mind that I'm using a 'puter for my own purpose, I'm sure he won't. But actually, I got further than the stalker-looking-up-of-address stage: I was getting out the cab and standing at Giles's hotel. Maybe I should have called. But it's not like I can just get back into the cab and go on back to my apartment and call him... can I? Oh, darn, the cab's driven off and the street is a bit empty and devoid of cabs.

Gulp. Shaking my head and wringing my hands, I entered the building, up the stairs and to his door. 21. I knock, and oh goddess, will he be mad? Will he be happy? I should've called. The door opened, and... not Giles. The little old lady stared at me questioningly. Gee, Giles, hahaha, a lot has changed, you look healthy. "Hee, um, sorry, I'm at the wrong door," I said, but cranky senior citizem already closed the door. Making a face at the door, I check this piece of paper in my hand. Oh, duh, Willow - 12, not 21. I was distracted like big time. Verging on Harmony IQ here.

At his door now, do I knock? Should I smile? Should I hug? Should I say something incredibly witty as a greeting? Definitely the last one, if nothing else. Licking my lips, I knocked, waited, and it opened. And it was Giles. "Uhh. Heya." So, not the witty response I was hoping for. I should've practiced. And called. Totally called.
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