April 2nd, afternoon : Main House, Room 10 : Mister Doyle enters

[celticluck]

The moment Doyle was in room number ten of the main house, he claimed the right side of the dorm room and had started to add his own personal touches. Or, more like he started to make his side of the room more comfortable

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[celticluck]

“Bleh, my dream job is to open up my own detective agency.” Doyle pulled out one of Xander’s socks from his suitcase and rolled it up into a ball. Bouncing it back and forth between his two palms he went on. “Mind you, it’ll be mostly for the supernatural. Where I’m from, everyone thinks that stuff is bollocks. Vampire Slayers, werewolves, witches… everything’s fake to the lowly mortals.”

[thatloyalguy]

Xander nodded along as he pulled out a couple of shirts and began to attach them to hangers. "Not this lowly mortal. I know the Slayer. Used to live on the hellmouth."

[celticluck]

“You’re pulling my leg.” Doyle said as he tossed the sock at the empty waste basket -- frowning when it hit the wall and landed on Xander’s desk instead.

“Slayer’s walk alone… and I damn well don’t believe you’ve lived on a hellmouth and survived this long.” Doyle stood up, walking to Xander’s closet and leaning on the door frame as he looked over the other teens wardrobe.

[thatloyalguy]

Xander shrugged. "Not this Slayer. She's different." Xander chuckled and grabbed the sock, putting it away in his drawer instead. "And hey! I can handle myself!"

[celticluck]

“Oh? So does this Slayer have a name?” Doyle grabbed on of Xander’s shirts and held it up to himself with a wince. “Judging by your taste in clothes, I would’ve suspected different.”

[thatloyalguy]

"Buffy Summers." Xander said absently, before grabbing his shirt from Doyle. "I'll have you know that this is the height of fashion outside of L.A."

[celticluck]

Doyle snorted. “You do live on the hellmouth, mate. You’re seventy years behind in the style.” He walked over to Xander’s desk, running his fingers along with the wood before leaning back with a grin. “And you’re stupid to boot. You just gave away the Slayers secret identity to me. That’s like telling Lex Luthor that Superman’s really Clark Kent.”

[thatloyalguy]

Xander's face fell as he realised what he'd done. A minute later, he shrugged. "I trust you. You're a bit of a dick, but you're not out to kill anyone. Especially not a Slayer."

[celticluck]

Doyle smirked at that. “’Cause, I like my body. I like it a lot and I’m very attached to it.” His head tilted to the side, “Slayer’s like to detach peoples body parts and beat them with it.” After a long moments pause, Doyle looked up at the ceiling, “right then. So, if you’re a friend to a Slayer what’s your power?”

[thatloyalguy]

Xander grimaced, and began to pay a lot of attention to his suitcase. "I, er...I don't have any."

[celticluck]

Doyle’s smile turned into a grin. “Pardon? Didn’t get that last bit.”

[thatloyalguy]

Xander grabbed a pair of balled up socks and threw them at Doyle's head. "Bite me."

[celticluck]

Doyle caught the socks with a flick of his wrist, allowing just enough of his demon to escape to have his eyes explode with red. "Not a vampire, Xander."

He forced the demon back into it's cage and this time, tossed the socks into the trash with a smirk. "I don't bite and don't like the taste of blood."

[thatloyalguy]

Xander nodded slowly, thinking over that revelation that he was sharing a room with a demon, and once again, shrugged. "Like I said, I trust you."