[ it is late friday morning and buffy summers is attempting some
tricky meditation techniques in an unoccupied corner of the barracks. a
small (carefully arranged) pile of crystals sits a few feet away from her. without her ex-watcher's help, buffy is trying to sort out a little mystical inner peace and, without his help, it isn't going very well.
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Hey.
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[ the joke rolls easily off the tongue. ]
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[ a long exhale and she sits heavily down across from him. ] Wow.
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[A hesitation.]
I was doing just fine until this one. [His finger taps on the name "Gracia Hughes."]
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I recognize a lot of them. I mean -- I knew...know. [ she has a hard time finishing. ]
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[ GUILTY CONSCIENCE. ] And he's just a rough teacher, that's all.
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[And apparently, he's taking his time with said drink.]
At least with this ceremony business, or whatever it's called, I can do it sitting down.
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[ she hasn't ever quite felt that kind of training ache. ]
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