[The spider eyed his journal with great suspicion as the messages stopped. Oh yeah, something smelt off. And it wasn't Alastor's cooking. Which honestly... smelt really good, but he just likes giving the deer shit.
Angel left his journal on his night stand to go take post in the living room, eyes fixed on the door like a judgmental mother waiting for their daughter to come home from sneaking out.]
[Action?]
Which honestly... smelt really good, but he just likes giving the deer shit.Angel left his journal on his night stand to go take post in the living room, eyes fixed on the door like a judgmental mother waiting for their daughter to come home from sneaking out.]