Gael lingered by the door—or more like, Angela delayed him from leaving the apartment. She was glad to have her best friend around, but she always worried whenever he left for "work"—whatever it was he did.
Especially when she noticed Trigger handing him a gun and Gael tucked it on the back of his waistband. They were discreet or tried to, at least, but she still saw it anyway. It had been happening a lot this week, and she couldn't help but constantly worry about him.
Angela fixed his tie and brushed off an invisible lint on his shoulder, the words "Don't go" hanging at the tip of her tongue, but she could never say them. So she'd been asking him questions about today, hoping he'd stay longer. He answered every question patiently, though it was apparent that he was running late.
"Last night… You said you'd tell me about how you knew my mother," she muttered, her last attempt to delay him.
