(Untitled)

[council_castout]

"Ah, yes. I think this will do nicely."

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is immensely proud of himself. Cast into a strange, unknown world, left to his own defenses, accosted by gun-wielding youths and strange blue women--not to mention an impertinent Slayer--but here he is in a domicile of his own. A headquarters. A home base, so to speak.

I think I'm

Comments

[perfectblue]

Leave it to Wesley to pick the room with leaky pipes and falling ceiling tiles. Yeah, this one has all the survival instincts of a grasshopper. No wonder he'd failed as her guide.

Illyria's thinking all of this as she stands just outside the slightly-open door, just watching.

And resisting commenting aloud.

Really.

[council_castout]

Still the very poster child for smugness, Wesley tests his new bed. Which does actually spring back after he gives it a good downward push, though with a rather damp, squishy sound.

Ah, perhaps he should close the door just in case--.

Wesley does a double-take and lets out an unWatcherly squeak.

It's that BLUE WOMAN again!

[perfectblue]

She could stop being blue.

She won't. Not around him.

But she could.

Instead, she just stares at him as if he's the most alien thing she's ever seen. He bears so little resemblance to her Wesley -- to the Wesley she'd known. She makes the mental correction before she even finishes thinking it, and yet it's there, all the same. That possessiveness. The reason she's been following him since he's arrived.

"I see you've... settled."

One dubious glance around the room is enough to convey her opinion on whether or not he'd done a very good job of it.

[council_castout]

"Eh...ye-es. Just staking out my territ'ry, as it were."

Standing up straight, then leaning slightly forward, he addresses her as if in confidence--from several feet away--

"A good Watcher always establishes a proper base of operations."