[Closed]

[stakesthings]

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.

Comments

1/2

[samianscar]

[Spike does not introspect.

He barely observed.

He was. He adapted (or not, ta) with what whatever else was around him. He bloody well got on with it.

He did not-such as while creature-of-the-nighting through the night, fast as he could, from his Ruinside flat to the Outlander building-not ever did Spike make lists.

Like this:

Differences between Earth and Anatole
(not as many as they'd think)

• monsters
  
• dimensional wankery
  
• decor
  
• demons, demon hybrids, part-time demons
  
• moral superiority with frequent good/evil switcharounds
  
• lack of law / rule of the strongest
  
• being responsible for Dawn
  
• Dawn wanting him to get stuffed
  
• (Earth:) insatiable hunger vs. (Anatole) barely needing blood at all. Had been managing fine in the All-Purpose District. Don't call it that for nothing.
  
• subsisting mostly on booze
  
• not needing permission to enter homes. (Scorched homes at least; hadn't tried many Anatolean. Except that time when the bike broke down. Will probably have to mention to Lilly eventually.)

The last meant he didn't strictly need to stop

2/2

[samianscar]

[…Okay. One more difference.

• he knew that what meant now.
  The ways it might actually be true, and the ways it really actually wasn't.

In this world, he wasn't mystically bound to do so. He still waited outside the door for her permission to come in.]

[stakesthings]

[So there's this knock, and at the end of it, she sets the coffee cup down - a thunk against the wood of the coffee table - and she picks up the Forge, because if there's one thing she knows, it's exactly what she's going to say when she opens that door.]

[So here's her, walking. And walking. She's barefoot, because who wears shoes in the house anyway? So she approaches the door in this whole catlike, quiet sort of way, and she opens it, and there he is, and she says exactly what she thought she'd say, which is...]

You were before me. How do you not know how to work this thing?

[This is accompanied by a nice shake of the Forge, and a click of her tongue just before she moves backwards a step and sighs.]

Are all vampires luddites? Seriously, keep up with the Hell-tech.

[dot.dot.dot.]

And come in.

...if I give you coffee, are you gonna pour whiskey in it, or something?

[Behold the rapidfire subject change. This way we avoid the slick.]

[samianscar]

[eyebrow up. Straight to the banter then. Thank god.]

I know you're not supposed to shake it.

-Though really, who the bloody hell doesn't shake 'em if they're carrying them around all the time? If we're really not supposed to shake 'em they shouldn't be made to be pocketable. And since they are made to be pocketable, they should also be made so it doesn't matter if they're-

[sidetracked. How does she always manage to make him think about things?]

Nevermind. …Thanks.

[He walks in, trying not to brush up against her, not avoiding passing quite near her, and the brief circle of her as she moves to close the door and he takes up position to look all around the flat. She's invited him here before. This is the first time he's been.]

Never put whiskey in coffee. Got any Irish Cream?

[happens to turn back to her at the right moment to be face to face.

Redirects his face to take in her bare feet. His hands are in the duster's pockets as he gestures, making him momentarily owlike with the hunched and the… leather… winglikeness? (Owls

[stakesthings]

[That's right. Straight to the banter.]

[Buffy frowns at the Forge and gives it a slight shake. Again. Hey, so far it hasn't broken, right?]

I'm thinking there's a difference between walk-shake and shake-shake. And a lot of variation depending on angle and uh, strength, and wow do I sound like a giant geek or what?

[Guess someone had to fill in the geek-spot, with Willow and Giles both absent from Anatole.]

[And by the way, good for them.]

[But since she's here, she finds herself watching him look over the room - plain, pretty downscale, nothing too fancy. Nothing like the princess look she sported in her bedroom when she was a teenager. Nothing like the chaos of the whole house during that last year in Sunnydale, either.]

[Pretty normal.]

[For a victorian living room.]

Believe it or not, I don't stock the kitchen with various kinds of booze. Not so much a booze girl.

[Not that she doesn't indulge sometimes! But, well, let's just say in her experience? Beer... bad.]

[Buffy wiggles her bare feet against the rug.]...