[And Willow is finally waking up from, well, being dead. The communicator is lying on the bedside table as she sits up, wincing a little. There is a visible scar from her shoulder blade down, which was... well, a giant hole a few days ago. She looks a lot paler than usual, taking this into a account. After a few moments of regaining her bearings,
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Got you some ice cream. Chocolate works, right? [ Oh, supremely awkward attempt at not making this awkward. Awesome job, Faith. ]
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Chocolate - yeah, that sounds good. Endorphins are good, right? [ Well, it is pretty awkward, waking up after you've died anyway. ]
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I'll tell Lorne or Fred where it is. [ Faith did the coma thing, and her first call was to kick the crap out of someone.
...Willow, don't go that road. ]
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Um. Thanks. [ Somehow I don't think Willow would be very successful in beating somebody up. She's trying to be sane. It's working a little. ]
Did you- [ she wants to ask about Rip here, and whether anyone knew what had happened, buuut... she decides against it, and opts to just trail off instead. ]
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Don't mention it. Just remembered, from back in the 'Dale, you and B talking about how... anyway. [ Okay seriously, she has no idea at all what to do here. The gentler stuff always makes her feel twitchy, and a few days of not being up in each other's faces doesn't mean she and Willow are friends. ]
We'll get it done. [ And yes, that was her best impression of reassuring. ]
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Ice-cream is a cure-all, definitely. Especially chocolate. [ Well, they are sort of... in-between. I'm not sure there is exactly a word for what they are. ]
Does anyone know where she is? [ That was mostly worry for anyone else who might cross Rip's path. ]
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