[You walk on to some … yard place. There's a faint ringing noise in the background. Angel and and his favorite blonde bitch (sorry Buffy) are there, sprawled out on lawn chairs, wearing bathing suits and sunglasses. That probably wouldn't be so weird if it weren't the middle of the night. At least the moon is nice and bright
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Buffy, it's not what it looks like. ... Okay, it is what it looks like. But this isn't my fault.
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I know it's not. But could you maybe.... [Buffy sighs, defeated, gesturing to Darla as she never ceases her ice-cube-rubbing. Is it time for vomiting? She thinks she can handle that portion of the evening.]
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Who am I? Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing with Rita you piece of shit dirtbag!?!? Get away from her!
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Okay. I've clearly walked in on... Something, so... I'm just gonna go.
[Oh wait. He's dressed as a waiter. And carrying two glasses full of red liquid. That looks suspiciously like blood. See Flynn be completely unsure about his life right now. And just kinda laugh and smile awkwardly.]
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Are you ... did she invite you? [He nods his head toward Darla, who is being innocent and coy and giving Fynn a little ~wave~.]
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...Yes. No. ...Is this a trick question?
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No? I was really asking. [Now he's looking at Darla like what even. THEY DIDN'T DISCUSS HAVING THREESOMES IN THESE DREAMS 8| ]
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