Ang was oddly relieved when Gallivan agreed to the drink. She rather thought they both needed the space to have a frank conversation and her flat was always the place. It wasn't much to speak of, it held more sentimental value than any practical use, but it was hers and it had a history both hers and of being a safe place to land for people like them, the misfits of society who needed somewhere to just be.

She motioned with one hand for him to follow her up the Alley to a turn off toward the less desirable section, holding the same hand out to him once they were out of view to apparate home. Ang was so used to apparating that she landed easily and moved from the center of her living room to the visible kitchen without so much as a misstep. Reaching for the good bourbon that was normally reserved for Cash, she pulled it and the rocks glasses down, pouring them both a healthy measure. Cash was as good as here for the discussion they were about to have.

"Have a seat," she offered as she plopped down in what was normally Cash's seat. It would feel weird looking at someone else in that spot. "I suppose I need some background," Ang knew enough about Gallivan, could tell just by the way Cash had spoken about him what Gallivan meant to him. "You haven't any clue who I am to Cash, am I right?" It wasn't accusatory, more curious. Ang knew well enough that she was one of Cash's better-kept secrets and that was fine. It was probably better that way, but it would be easier to form a coherent, if incomplete, story for Gallivan if she had a starting point.