001: [holo] this isn't kansas
That last punch in the face? That really hurt. Hurt in the seeing stars, wow is that blood from my nose way. Buffy winces, really 'stumbling vaguely upwards' more than 'getting to her feet', and palming her scythe from one hand to the other, menacingly.
"Congratulations, you got blood on my shirt. I LIKED this shirt. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get blood out of cashmere blend? You are SO dea--"
It takes her a second to realise that the hefty leather-clad and grossly hairy vampire she was just about to dust the fudge out of has disappeared. She blinks. "Did I do that? Because, boy, I'm efficient." It takes her another second to realise that she's not in a graveyard. And she's indoors, in what looks suspiciously like the inside of a tin can, except in an expensive technological way. She revolves on the spot, bewildered and extremely wary.
She quickly notices the pedestal and the accompanying tablet, lifting it gingerly and giving it a once over, before replacing it, and then rolling her eyes and making for the door. Which... refuses to open. She turns and puts her hands on her hips, displeased, and addresses the walls.
"Look, Twilight or Amy or Warren or G.I Joe or whoever the hell you are, you picked an excellent time for me to not be in the mood for this, and if you wanted to give me a Blackberry and-" She pauses, noticing the silver band around her wrist (or rather, part of her wrist, though she's not aware of it yet) "some EXTREMELY tacky jewellery you could've just sent it in a basket or something."
"Congratulations, you got blood on my shirt. I LIKED this shirt. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get blood out of cashmere blend? You are SO dea--"
It takes her a second to realise that the hefty leather-clad and grossly hairy vampire she was just about to dust the fudge out of has disappeared. She blinks. "Did I do that? Because, boy, I'm efficient." It takes her another second to realise that she's not in a graveyard. And she's indoors, in what looks suspiciously like the inside of a tin can, except in an expensive technological way. She revolves on the spot, bewildered and extremely wary.
She quickly notices the pedestal and the accompanying tablet, lifting it gingerly and giving it a once over, before replacing it, and then rolling her eyes and making for the door. Which... refuses to open. She turns and puts her hands on her hips, displeased, and addresses the walls.
"Look, Twilight or Amy or Warren or G.I Joe or whoever the hell you are, you picked an excellent time for me to not be in the mood for this, and if you wanted to give me a Blackberry and-" She pauses, noticing the silver band around her wrist (or rather, part of her wrist, though she's not aware of it yet) "some EXTREMELY tacky jewellery you could've just sent it in a basket or something."