Negasonic would have expected to enter a run down flat with flickering light bulbs, only a bare mattress for furniture and pictures of serial killers taped to the mould-spotted walls. What she does not expect to find is a picturesque little house lifted straight from an IKEA catalog. Surely Angel must've killed the previous owner or keeps him in a dank and dark cellar.
"So... whose house is this really?"
"Surprised?" Angel flashes her a grin. Or, more like a mean smirk. At least she hasn't transformed into a Martha Stewart just yet. That would be freaky.
"You bet." The huge windows are letting in so much light, and brightness is one thing Negasonic did not associate with a villain lair. This is kind of a let-down. She really wanted to see those serial killers. "I mean, c'mon, this looks totally fake, like one of those houses you keep extra shiny and spotless to fetch a higher price on the market."
"Did you see a sign out front saying it's for sale?" Again, that damn amusement.
"You could've hidden it before I came here." Negasonic shrugs. She's aware of how stupid she sounds, but can you blame her? Every little detail she'd constructed around Angel's private life is turning out to be false.
Angel must be sensing Negasonic's disappointment and takes pity. "How about I show you my torture chamber?"
Negasonic perks up, but tries to sound indifferent. "Only if that's not a codename for your creative corner or something."