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Guud effternuun iferyune-a! Des Schneetzel veell nut be-a jueening us tudey. She-a hes run oooot ooff mekeoop und seys she-a luuks "heedeuoos".

Tudey's Menoo Is:

-Cheese-a Reveeuli

-Beeff Reveeuli

-Toona Feesh Sundveeches

-Cucunoot Creem Peee-a

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Pip waved. "Yo. What's up?"

"I'm not covered in badly-written porn," Angel said. "So far I'm chalking today up in the 'win' column. You?"

Pip held up a copy of "A Midsummer Night's Dream". "Going over the play again. I got cast as Quince. And I'm the understudy for Puck."

"Oh hey, cool," Angel said. "You into acting?"

"A little," Pip responded. "I've never done a lot of it, though. I was never in any one place long enough to do something. I like this play, though."

"Me too," Angel said. "Though Puck always got on my nerves. Reminds me of Spike."

"Really? I love Puck. He gets all the good lines." He lit a cigarette. "Who's Spike?"

"Someone I wish I wasn't related to," Angel said. "You know how they say you can pick your friends but you can't pick your family? Well you can't kill them as often as you want either."

Pip raised an eyebrow. "That bad? I mean, I many not like my grandfather, hell, I hate the old bastard sometimes, but kill?"

"Clearly you've never met Spike."

Pip shrugged. "Touche." He took a drag on the cigarette. "Then again, you have to start wondering about the family that aren't actually related to you. I mean, my only living blood relative is my grandfather. Well, there' my mom's family, but I'm not sure their even aware that I exist. Then there's the mercenary company. They're the closest I've got to family."

"How'd you get involved with them?" Angel asked.

"Born to it," Pip said. "My father was a mercenary, my grandfather is a mercenary, his father was a mercenary, and his father was a mercenary and... you get the idea. My father was killed trying to earn money to pay for my birth, my mother died giving birth to me. Since there was no one else, my grandfather raised me. And since he is somewhat lacking in parenting skills, the mercenary company he runs helped raise me as well."

"Ever want to be something else?" Angel asked.

Pip shrugged. "Most of my life. Fighting's what I know, though. I suppose I can find something worth fighting for other than money, I'll fight for that. Other than that..." he shrgged again. "I'm trying to keep my options."

"I get that," Angel said. "Heck, I'm still trying to figure out what being a souled vampire means. Options are good if you ask me."

Pip nodded. "Souled vampire, you say. So, most vampires don't have souls, then?"

"Not where I'm from," Angel said. "All vamps are soulless, which means they're evil. Except me."

"What's the story behind that one?" Pip asked. "Assuming you don't mind talking about it."

"Drank from the wrong gypsy," Angel said. "Got cursed with a soul so that I'd live out the rest of my immortality suffering for all the wrongs I did. Unless I experience a moment of perfect happiness. In that case I'm back in the leather pants."

Pip's eye widened. "That's a curse and a half," he said. "All the guilt of the soul, but not getting the ultimate benefit." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "Still. I highly doubt "perfect happiness" actually exists in this, or any other world."

He paused for a moment.

"Leather pants?"

"I wear them when I'm evil," Angel said, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you'd be surprised. I had it once. Not sure if it'll ever happen again though. Not that I want to take any chances either."

"Really? Maybe I shouldn't be so cynical." He tried not to snicker. "So... your fashion sense leaves you when your soul leaves?"

As most people would've said otherwise, Angel smiled and was happy to agree with Pip's assessment. "Yeah. Angelus is a total poser. Uglier than me too, though he'll never admit it."

"Seriously. Who wears leather pants?" Pip said, taking a swig of Coke. "Is an inabillity to dress yourself common of other soulless things, or does Angelus prefer the whiny goth boy look for whatever reason?"