Cordelia stormed into the hotel's lobby. She threw her purse in the rounded sofa and let herself fall dramatically onto it.
"What's up, Cordy?" Gunn asked, looking up from changing a bandage on Wesley's brow.
"Ugh! Can you believe that those jerks didn't want me, because I'm a brunnette and wouldn't dye my hair?! I should slap them with a discrimination law suit!"
"What was the commercial for, again, Cordelia?"
"Clairol... But that doesn't matter! They have brunnettes all the time in those ads!"
"Yes, quite right," Wesley answered distractedly as Gunn leaned in closer to check on the wound he had recieved two days earlier.
"This, like, Sucks! With capital S!"
"Bites, too," Gunn added, looking more at Wesley's lips than the wound.
"I would say it licks, also," Wesley breathed.
Gunn unconciously licked his lips and leaned impossibly closer to Wesley.
Cordelia rolled her eyes and got up from the sofa. She walked over to the kitchen and before closing the door behind her, she called over her shoulder.
"Go to your room already, guys!"
The closed door muffled the sounds of chairs being shoved back, and feet hurrying up the stairs.
"And keep it down!" Cordelia yelled at the ceiling.