The reception area up front was empty. Veronica's lap computer was like a technological ward. He worried that someday he might actually need to use it. Or that the new receptionist might take a day off.
Angel little else to worry himself with these days. (That in itself concerned him.) Besides living in a strange pocket dimension that appeared to have a mind of its own, with the zombie apocalypse all but gone there weren't too many clients coming in.
"Fred. You're back. With your friend."
The former vampire was glad to see Sam alive but couldn't help the not quite blank expression on his face. Not brooding, exactly, because being human and no longer trapped in a Hell dimension where most of his friends were either dead or undead or a variation of the two was a vast improvement.