(Untitled)

[applelimber]

Who: Anyone!
When: Friday, August 19th-Sunday, August 21st
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Whatever you prefer. Tag yourself in, mingle and go nuts. Might wanna specify which night threads take place, open or closed, that sort of thing.
What: HAPPY HOUR. or...unhappy hour, idk.
Warnings: TBD

Comments

waiting for the Buffy/Angel crew, but not strictly exclusive

[samianscar]

[Never, before not ever, has Spike been the one holding the table.

…Okay, that one…

He makes up for it by sprawling back in one chair with one foot up on another and the other on the table itself. Yeah, that's right. I'm not waiting for anyone, who may well not turn up and so show me completely pathetic: this whole table is my barcalounger. Bake me a beer, barwench. …Pretty please.]

[takesthings]

[ Of course Faith's already there, she'd been promised a free drink, and she's got a cast iron party girl rep to maintain. By now that freebie's long gone and she's spent what she can afford to, is down to wheedling drinks out of dudes who think the cost of a shitty beer is some kind of promise. ]

[ At least with Spike, Faith knows she won't be ogled. Or if she is, she kinda won't mind. ]

[ So she sashays on over with a glass of miscellaneous hard liquor that tastes like white rum and miscellaneous cordial that tastes like orange pop without the bubbles. ]

Budge up.

[ She swings a chair around and straddles it, resting her arms across the back, laissez faire. ]

Long time no see.

[samianscar]

[he swings one foot off the chair but leaves other foot on the table, so he's peering at her through the forced-perspective window between his foot and his beer.]

So what's a slayer like you doing in a dimension like this?

[he raises his glass to her]

'Sides from improving the view.

[takesthings]

Right, aside from.

[ The look she gives him is somewhere between bring it on and you're kidding, right? She lifts her glass back, and lets the cheesy line pass in case she wants to convince him to fill it again later. ]

Let's not, with the me, I'm making the best of a bad relocation. What's up with you? Last I heard was Andrew saying you'd visited him in Italy.

[ Which sounded like b-s, but would do to get the gossip started. The Sunnydale grape-vine may have now stretched world-wide, but Cleveland had only ever caught the Chinese whispers. ]

[samianscar]

[That instantly gets both feet on the floor, though the rest of him pretends to keep up a level of unconcern.]

Wasn't there to visit him. Official business. With Angel. Law firming. Demon mafia war-prevention decapitation… Vespa… bombing… things.

Just stopped in at Andrew's to… check in on Buffy.

[sudden enormous swig o' beer. Which is more embarrassing: having the details of that trip out there in the wider known, or having to remember it?]

[takesthings]

Buffy. In Italy. With Andrew.

[ Faith tosses back her head and starts to laugh. ]

Guess that whole doubles business worked better than expected.

[samianscar]

Pfffthbtsh, [mercifully without beer] no, she wasn't with…

[frowns]

…though never did get around to finding what he was doing there with her.

[takesthings]

[ Quite clearly enjoying herself. ]

He who?

[stakesthings]

Good question. He who?

[Where did she come from? Hard to guess. But Buffy presses her hands against the back of Spike's chair, and taps him on the temple as she takes a seat.]

Who are we talking about?

[samianscar]

[resists the urge to lean back into her. Wraps both hands around his beer glass instead.]

Mr Storyteller. Poster Child for reformed- [though at this table really shouldn't be throwing that stone] -lame- [that fixes it] -villains anonymous. Andrew. In your future, I suppose… gadding about in Rome with [huge grimace] the Immortal.