More e-mail (aka linkdrop-o-doom)
To: willow.rosenberg@hogwarts.ac.uk
From: xander.harris@fandomhigh.net
Subject: re: Yay I'm In England Also HELP
- Dear Willow:
The break-in job went off mostly unhitchy, and no matter what anybody tells you, I did not speak Latin in front of the books. Rory lies. It's all the coffee; it's infected her brain. Causes delusions. Also makes her talk like you which makes me miss you so clearly she is mean and evil, if cute.
It was kind of needle in haystacky though, and we figured maybe the guy keeps his tempting dangerous books hidden away somewhere like Giles used to hide his at the back of the book cage from you, so a few of us headed back to Watchers' Council HQ to beat the information out of talk to... Andrew, that was his name. Tucker's brother. He pointed us to the goods (which got got, and sent back over to Giles for translation), and... then we had coffee. Yeah, don't ask. Hey, did you know the new episodes of Mr. What are finally showing? And the girls in 412 who are mean and evil (kind of a given since they include Rory) and I watched the Space Battles prequels on Rory's laptop later on. As you do. Because the night just wasn't sad and geeky enough.
Got your e-mail yesterday. THANK YOU. Parker says she's buying you... um. No, not telling you that, or you'd take her up on it, and I like your head like it is. Unasploded. We were at lunch when the first one came through, and Rory got a call from Giles too, with the stuff we needed, so we took off from there to Charing Cross. Luckily -- er, sort of? I'm thinking John Crichton doesn't think it's all that lucky, but anyway -- one of our teachers, Ms. Skeeter, is a witch, and we caught her heading into Diagon Alley, so yay, bezoar stone! Well, no, eww, bezoar stone, but given the name, I was actually expecting a hell of a lot worse. Also unicorn shavings, which I'm not sure I want to know about. Please don't tell me. All of which got air-expressed somehow over to Fandom, far as I know.
Randomly, we later called Lee Adama, who once helped me get out of a closet. Don't ask. No really, don't ask. I mention it only because he's from another galaxy and doesn't believe in England, so I kinda wonder where he thought we were really calling him from. All jammed into the phone booth on the corner of Sphinx and Loon?
Got your other e-mail too. Yes, fine, I signed Angel's card. They don't make a font big enough for the following
:-P.
It went out in the big airpost too. Didn't open, as requested. Actually, haven't opened mine yet, either--
Xander stopped typing for a moment, unzipped his suitcase, and dug into the pocket of yesterday's jeans for Willow's card; good thing he'd remembered or it probably would've gone through the wash. He unfolded it--
--and was, OMG, hugged. As real and solid as if someone were actually grabbing him: the feel of slender arms around him that packed a surprising amount of breath-stealing oomph, the scent of Suave green apple shampoo under his nose and smooth, soft hair tickling his chin as a head was laid against his shoulder for an all-too-brief moment, before there was nothing. He tried folding the card up and unfolding it again, but apparently it was a one-time only deal. Dam--
Waitaminite.
- --DID YOU JUST MAKE ME SIGN AN ACTUAL HUG FROM YOU TO ANGEL?
possibly murdering you in a loving way,
Xander