His first instinct was to snort out loud. A hero. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and hero were never to be put in the same sentence as far as the man himself was concerned. If anything he was well aware that for some of the things he'd done he'd end up in Hell. Maybe he'd see Angel then, who knew?
"Research? Research what? Angel is back." And he was most certainly not sulking about that. He was not feeling as though he'd failed his friend for not helping him when it came to that. Nope.
Padding after Lilah to the table, picking up her glass of wine. His eyes narrowed at her words. Wesley usually had very little pride, but over the years he'd gotten some. Angel had dragged him from the secure life he had build for himself. Cordelia had ran off without letting Wesley explain anything. His pride - probably unreasonably - was rearing its ugly head.
"I'm not a hero,"he grumbled, "and I'm not contacting them. If they want to talk to me they know where to find me. Angel was the one who practically begged me to come here." And again, he wasn't sulking. Pride was a good thing to have, but sometimes it got in the way of things.
In the way of friendships which were already on shaky terms. Got in the way of rebuilding them.
Putting down his glass of wine, Wesley snaked his arms around Lilah's waist and managed a small smile. "Just eat?" he teased, leaning in to nuzzle her neck, taking in her scent. Pure Lilah, exotic and a little dangerous.