voice + action ✪ a ghost just needs a home
Good morning. Happy Sunday. Et cetera, et cetera.
My dear barman-in-arms, Zack, has already intro'd you fine folks to the equally fine watering-hole we like to call Good Spirits. So here's me -- Buffy Summers -- with a bit of a follow-up question.
Name me your favourite chilly weather drinks. I'm talking both boozed-up and boozeless versions. A few winter specials might not go amiss and I know I'm already craving something toasty warm. So what do you like? Mulled wine? Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate with Bailey's? [ a break to breath. she needs those. ]
Oh! And for those of you who remember it from last year? Consider both the virgin and non-virgin versions of my very special just-like-apple-pie cider back on the menu. Please, please come in and order it. [ then -- with courage: ] And the McCoy is still available. As always.
[ routine is reestablishing itstelf; this catches buffy completely off-guard. this mornin, unlike all the previous mornings, it simply doesn't occur to her to put out a third mug for the now absent leonard mccoy. guilt follows hard upon that realization. she sets out a third just to spite herself.
such a gaffe (along with the missing status of one archie kennedy) colours the rest of her day with a bubbling, below-the-surface anxiety. things change so fast in luceti. this isn't the first time she has learned this lesson but it feels particularly poignant in this instance. old faces and new feathers and -- suddenly? thanksgiving. the holiday ramp-up comes as a relief to the tension she's been carrying around with her. it's something to put her back into; it's something to dig her fingers into and she plans to whip herself into distraction. like so many whipped potatoes. like so much whipped cream. ]
[ thanksgiving invitations: if you're not sure whether someone is included on this list? feel free to ask. basically, even new feathers she has met who haven't found any better thanksgiving offers are included in this invitation. ]
Thanksgiving. Not this Thursday but the Thursday after that. We're hosting a little holiday extravaganza at House Seven. I know some of us aren't in the village right now so do please pass the message of turkey legs and cranberry sauce on to absent friends.
And if you have other plans? [ cheekily! ] Don't worry. I won't be offended if you miss out on the raddest, most-spreadiest Thanksgiving spread to go spend it with someone else.
[ otherwise? you can find buffy summers first eyeing up the grocery store shelves in the early afternoon and then gracing the bar-counter at good spirits that night.
she's in one of her pretend it's good and it'll all go away moods with means equal opportunity snarking for everyone. come partake! ]
My dear barman-in-arms, Zack, has already intro'd you fine folks to the equally fine watering-hole we like to call Good Spirits. So here's me -- Buffy Summers -- with a bit of a follow-up question.
Name me your favourite chilly weather drinks. I'm talking both boozed-up and boozeless versions. A few winter specials might not go amiss and I know I'm already craving something toasty warm. So what do you like? Mulled wine? Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate with Bailey's? [ a break to breath. she needs those. ]
Oh! And for those of you who remember it from last year? Consider both the virgin and non-virgin versions of my very special just-like-apple-pie cider back on the menu. Please, please come in and order it. [ then -- with courage: ] And the McCoy is still available. As always.
[ routine is reestablishing itstelf; this catches buffy completely off-guard. this mornin, unlike all the previous mornings, it simply doesn't occur to her to put out a third mug for the now absent leonard mccoy. guilt follows hard upon that realization. she sets out a third just to spite herself.
such a gaffe (along with the missing status of one archie kennedy) colours the rest of her day with a bubbling, below-the-surface anxiety. things change so fast in luceti. this isn't the first time she has learned this lesson but it feels particularly poignant in this instance. old faces and new feathers and -- suddenly? thanksgiving. the holiday ramp-up comes as a relief to the tension she's been carrying around with her. it's something to put her back into; it's something to dig her fingers into and she plans to whip herself into distraction. like so many whipped potatoes. like so much whipped cream. ]
[ thanksgiving invitations: if you're not sure whether someone is included on this list? feel free to ask. basically, even new feathers she has met who haven't found any better thanksgiving offers are included in this invitation. ]
Thanksgiving. Not this Thursday but the Thursday after that. We're hosting a little holiday extravaganza at House Seven. I know some of us aren't in the village right now so do please pass the message of turkey legs and cranberry sauce on to absent friends.
And if you have other plans? [ cheekily! ] Don't worry. I won't be offended if you miss out on the raddest, most-spreadiest Thanksgiving spread to go spend it with someone else.
[ otherwise? you can find buffy summers first eyeing up the grocery store shelves in the early afternoon and then gracing the bar-counter at good spirits that night.
she's in one of her pretend it's good and it'll all go away moods with means equal opportunity snarking for everyone. come partake! ]