If Angel had been an ordinary person, he might have jumped at the sound of Faith's voice. It was night, the lights in the kitchen were turned off, and she was pretty good at sneaking around without being noticed. But he had vampire senses, so he always noticed when someone was nearby. Especially when that someone was munching on a bag of potato chips -- the place was too clean to have a rat infestation, after all. With handfuls of mini-slayers around, it probably wouldn't stay that way for long, but right now it was.
In answer to Faith's first query, he pulled out a thermos of blood and waved it in her direction. "You have to store it under refrigeration, otherwise it breaks down and goes bad," he explained, heading for the microwave. He could sense the awkward undertone in the questions that followed, a feeling that wasn't unreciprocated. Ever since their little waltz through his head, Angel didn't quite know how to feel around her. How were you supposed to react when someone personally witnessed your deepest memories? They'd both helped bring each other back from darkness, which made theirs a pretty unique relationship.
While he waited for his blood to warm up, Angel went over to the bag of potato chips Faith had abandoned and stole a few chips from it. They tasted like nothing to him, but it gave him something to do besides stand around uncomfortably. "Not yet," he answered with a shrug and then a sigh. "Don't have a good feeling about it, though. Last time a mysterious package showed up, it was Lindsey's doing -- and I had to deal with Spike again. Now Buffy gets one, and it brings you all here? Someone's screwing with us."