InsaneJournal

Angela told herself she wasn't nervous. Because she wasn't, not really. To be honest, she was really looking forward to the evening. She spent the morning shopping, because dinner with a handsome guy deserved new clothes and perfume. The early afternoon was spent cleaning and straightening up. By the time seven pm rolled around, she was wearing her new outfit-a loose skirt and a peasant top-and had her hair piled up on the top of her head, held in place by a couple of clips. She had cleared off the couch and had a few candles lit for their yummy scent, and her sketchbook sat on the coffee table, open to a blank page, a couple of pencils beside it. Since she wasn't quit sure what he'd be cooking, she had a bottle of red and a bottle of white wine sitting on the counter, both ready to be poured if necessary.

Now all that was missing was the guy.

When she heard the knock at the door, Ange closed her laptop where, yes, she'd been watching episodes of Leverage with interest. Thus it was with a small, slightly amused smile that she pulled open the door and grinned at Eliot. "Hey."