Buffy looks up. "No, pull up a chair." She gestures with the polearm. (Carefully.) "There's plenty of marshmallows to go around."
As she speaks, the marshmallow she's toasting begins to glow a dull red, and then yellow; Buffy looks back, sighs, and plunges it into her glass of pineapple juice. "Honestly, the arrow might work better."
"Doesn't it?" She looks at the polearm with pride. "I'm still getting the hang of it, but it's kind of like one of those dual-purpose kitchen gadgets. Except one of its purposes is armed combat."
But she have something a bit more maneuverable.
"Mind company?" she asks, waving her arrow.
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As she speaks, the marshmallow she's toasting begins to glow a dull red, and then yellow; Buffy looks back, sighs, and plunges it into her glass of pineapple juice. "Honestly, the arrow might work better."
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Artemis skewers a marshmallow and holds it out over the fire.
"Although yours definitely has wow factor."
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"I mean, it's not like there's a 'defend from invaders' setting on a blender."
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She thinks better of that anecdote. "...Healthful smoothies build strong muscles. So how often do you defend from invaders, anyway?"
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She rotates the marshmallow for maximum golden-brown-ness.
"Oh, not for ages."
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Deadpan: "It happens."
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"Still, we kicked their ass."
She draws the marshmallow closer and pokes it, checking for doneness.
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The marshmallow needs a little more time.
"Well, the Greeks. Ancient Greeks. And my family."
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