By now, it was fairly clear that Willow had upped and disappeared, too. Angel hadn't seen her since their very short night together. She might've been in her room, but as quiet as Willow tended to be, she wasn't the type to hide away, either. Unless she'd somehow gotten sick, but that was stretching the imagination a bit.

No. She was gone and he had no idea where the hell she went. That people simply disappeared instead of being killed left far too many questions and variables. Not that either option was acceptable, but death, at least that made sense.

Unless you were a vampire or one that died twice over, but that was—never mind.

Angel stepped into the sun room, about to spend another hour or so by himself—honestly, he was long overdue for a good amount of time to himself given his nurse was always pushing him towards someone or vice versa—but the sharp copper scent of blood drew his attention. Not a lot, but it was there. While open wounds weren't rare, most of the injuries weren't this fresh.

He looked over, realized whatever the minor injury was, it wasn't anything to take note of, and wound up with his focus shifting instead to the fact that the boy didn't look too well. Cordelia had always accused him of being oblivious to people's feelings, but even Angel could tell in this case. And the boy was extremely young. Not to mention, there was something just a bit...He shook it off. Around here, he was starting to get used to it.

Heading over, he sat down on the couch, a respectful enough distance away that he wasn't completely invading the boy's space.

"Are you all right?"