[Closed]
Who: stakesthings and samianscar
When: After this thread.
Where: Buffy's Apartment, woo!
Format: action
What: Buffy invites Spike over to get some Forge lessons. Talking or whatever ensues.
Warnings: None that I know of.
[Well. The invitation had definitely gone well, in a way that was all kinds of unwell. Somewhere in the back of her head, she can remember a saying about giving someone a rope and letting them hang themselves, and that, Buffy decides, is exactly what she did. And it's not as though there's no logical progression from smooth to slippery, but even so, there's a whole thing with the running of mouths, and she probably should have gagged herself before her oh-so-graceful tumble into oil or... pudding of some kind.]
[Metaphorically speaking, of course.]
[...although, come to think of it, pudding would be more with the gloopy and less with the slick.]
[Not that she meant to think about slick.]
[And not that gagging was not, in itself, full of all kinds of-- well, anyway.]
[The point is, despite her fumbled barb, Buffy somehow managed to keep herself occupied instead of smacking her head repeatedly against the table on which she left her Forge. It was mercy, really, for herself and also for the Forge because given her sterling record of the moment, she probably would have hit it with her forehead and cracked the screen. And also maybe her skull, given that thing's made of metal.]
[Good times.]
[Anyway, instead of head-banging, there's coffee-making. The old fashioned way, with ground up beans and some kind of net thing, and water boiling in a kettle because this place is apparently allergic to modern conveniences, which means she's just about finished making her cup when he arrives.]
When: After this thread.
Where: Buffy's Apartment, woo!
Format: action
What: Buffy invites Spike over to get some Forge lessons. Talking or whatever ensues.
Warnings: None that I know of.
[Well. The invitation had definitely gone well, in a way that was all kinds of unwell. Somewhere in the back of her head, she can remember a saying about giving someone a rope and letting them hang themselves, and that, Buffy decides, is exactly what she did. And it's not as though there's no logical progression from smooth to slippery, but even so, there's a whole thing with the running of mouths, and she probably should have gagged herself before her oh-so-graceful tumble into oil or... pudding of some kind.]
[Metaphorically speaking, of course.]
[...although, come to think of it, pudding would be more with the gloopy and less with the slick.]
[Not that she meant to think about slick.]
[And not that gagging was not, in itself, full of all kinds of-- well, anyway.]
[The point is, despite her fumbled barb, Buffy somehow managed to keep herself occupied instead of smacking her head repeatedly against the table on which she left her Forge. It was mercy, really, for herself and also for the Forge because given her sterling record of the moment, she probably would have hit it with her forehead and cracked the screen. And also maybe her skull, given that thing's made of metal.]
[Good times.]
[Anyway, instead of head-banging, there's coffee-making. The old fashioned way, with ground up beans and some kind of net thing, and water boiling in a kettle because this place is apparently allergic to modern conveniences, which means she's just about finished making her cup when he arrives.]