[WRITTEN:]
Angel--might want to go ahead and choose a room, now. The couches are a little indisposed at the moment.
[Shortly after this announcement, Buffy can be seen labouring outside the house. One sofa is already down by the riverside, while the other is currently being dragged through the front door. She's standing on the porch and...
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What I mean is that...it wasn't the right kind of couch--so now I need this one, too.
[Convinced, Angel? Because she sure as hell isn't convinced by her own ramblings.]
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The floor? You'd seriously just sleep on the floor instead?
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Angel. What do I have to do to convince you into a real room?
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I can't.
[Because it's not just about the couch or the bed anymore. It's about so much more. It's about her own guilt over letting Angel inconvenience himself for her. It's about her wanting better for him.]
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You're too tall to be on the couch, anyway. And the floor? It's dirty.
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I'll take the couch back in, but every night that you don't sleep in a real bed? I won't, either.
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