(Untitled)

[balletrat]

*Meg's sitting at a table, and frowning.

In front of her - not right in front; more in the middle of the table, far enough that she'd have to reach to pull it closer if she wanted to read it - is a book. A history book, to be precise, an overview of the twentieth century; Meg picked it up from the bar a few minutes ago

Comments

[xan_shaped]

A plate of hamburger and french fries is set down across from her.

"Hey, Leggo-my-Meggo! Where've you been all my life?"

[balletrat]

- well, for most of it, in Paris, *Meg says, practically, and giggles; then, sternly:*

The question is, where have you been for the past month or so?

[xan_shaped]

Xander bites into his hamburger and chews shiftily.

"Well," he says, voice muffled, "we spent most of it back at the ranch trying to train up the next generation."

He swallows and smiles apologetically.

"Slayers. Imported from Zimbabwe."

[balletrat]

. . . you can import Slayers? *Meg asks, fascinated.* How do they get past customs laws?

*. . . for the record, Meg things Zimbabwe is somewhere in South America.*

[xan_shaped]

"... A lot easier than I do, actually," Xander tells her with a rueful grin.

[balletrat]

*Meg blinks, before suddenly looking sage.*

- 'cause they're little and cute and can either flash the border people or beat them up if they get too nosy?

[xan_shaped]

Xander does not ponder any of the Slayers flashing border people.

No, really.

"... I can honestly say-- and this is with sadness in my heart-- that there was neither flashing nor ass-kicking."

He sighs.

[balletrat]

You poor, unfortunate soul, *Meg agrees.

Her face is mournful. Her shoulders droop. Her entire affect is of one burdened with a great, empathetic sadness.*

I feel for you. Really.

[xan_shaped]

For a brief moment, Xander pictures Meg purple and with black tentacles.

Does that make Anthy the Little Mermaid?

"Riiiight."

[balletrat]

*Meg would be horrified at this comparison. There is no way she could ever be that overweight.

. . . although Utena body shapes do bear a certain comparison to those of Disney heroines.*

No, honestly! *Meg protests. Her face is very straight. Really.* I mean. You had to suffer through the lack of flashing and ass-kicking, when all I had to do was take care of an Endless baby for a month -

*- okay, the fight for a straight face is abandoned, and Meg starts to giggle.*

Be honest. You just disappeared 'cause you didn't want to have to babysit, didn't you -

[xan_shaped]

"Hey!"

Xander looks pained.

"It's called saving the world, Meg."

[balletrat]

- all right, all right, *Meg says, heaving a sigh.* You're let off. This time. But that excuse is going to get old sooner or later, you know.

[xan_shaped]

A grin.

"But it's funny how every time is just as fresh and dewy as the first."

[balletrat]

- every time of using the excuse, or every time of actually saving the world? *Meg asks, critically.*

'cause even sarcastically I'm not sure how well the metaphor holds up.

[xan_shaped]

"The actual world-saving, I mean," he says, giving her a sour look. "People never run out of panic. Just ask Tokyo: Those guys lived through thirty Godzilla sequels and never got sick of running through the streets in abject terror."

[balletrat]

- well, maybe it was just a good workout, *Meg offers.*

Like, exercise. With a 'Godzilla' as motivation.