There was a knock at Angel's bedroom door and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. It had sounded small, childlike. He'd recently brought his kids, Lucky and Whiskey, to the hotel, so his mind went to one of them. He opened the door, winced at the light, and saw Whiskey there. "Oh c'mere kiddo. It's okay, you're okay. Didja have a bad dream, sweetie?" He shut the door softly with his foot, taking note of her tear streaked face and sat on his bed, holding her in his lap.