Cordelia had the chance to thrift some decent, current fashion on her little weekly stipend. Given she'd arrived from Lorne's home dimension to Cleveland - she hadn't been appropriately dressed. Some clever spending, and haggling, and Cordy had herself a nice black purse, black wedge slides, and surprisingly flattering jeans with a silk halter top. She looked as authentically Cordelia Chase as she ever did.

That didn't help her unusually shaken confidence. Cordelia didn't expect slipping through time and space to become a theme for her. She was alone in this world without allies and the highly likely chance she'd be stricken by a vision in due time.

So, instead, she was going to have some shitty drinks that made her long for Caritas while feeling unexpected nostalgia for The Bronze. As she was tossing back her third cheap beer, that feeling of sentiment started to become too real. She swore the silhouette of a blonde guy was familiar. When he spoke as he turned around to ask for a light, that British accent made Cordelia's blood run cold.

Angel told them about the day that time took back. All that horror that Spike was hoping to have wrought. Her despondent expression had shifted to one of vicious retort. Better to be aggressive like you're supposed to do with bears, right?

"Spike..."

If the ice in Cordelia's voice could be quantified, the glaciers would no longer be melting.