Spike had intended to get the lay of the land for a bit, maybe kill some students, that sort of fun thing, but as so frequently happened with him, he'd ended up impatient. And the Slayer was busy dancing with Harris. Spike had considered cutting in, but it seemed so obvious, and so public. He wasn't sure what Buffy would do if he just went up to her in the middle of a crowd.
He did know she'd eventually have to go to the bathroom, though. So to the bathroom he went. He took the stall furthest from the door and waited for that familiarly annoying voice to signal the Slayer's arrival.
Re: The Ladies' RoomdatingslayerAugust 6 2011, 08:37:26 UTC
Cordelia made her way into the bathroom to touch up her hair and make up after that little...whatever that was with Xander in the closet. Okay, so she knew exactly what it was but it had so not been in her plans for the evening. But apparently old habits died hard.
No puns intended.
"Well, it's not going to happen again," She said to herself, as if saying it out loud somehow would make it more true.
And with that she went to one of the mirrors, beginning to primp and straight herself out.
She, of course, had no idea who was lingering in the bathroom stalls.
Great. One of Buffy's little pals. Not the lady he was waiting for. Spike barely managed not to bang his head against the wall in frustration. Why had he thought this was a good plan, again?
Cordelia Chase. He didn't know much about her, except that she always looked smashing and wasn't very bright.
His nose twitched. Why did he smell Xander Harris? He wasn't in the room, obviously. He'd probably scream in terror at the very idea of a lady's room, which meant that Cordelia and Xander must be an item.
He poked his head out of the stall.
"You do realize how much better you could do, right? Not that I give a damn, I've just seen Fyarl demons out of Harris' league."
Slowly meandering around the perimeter of the floor, Christine looked to see who was dancing in groups and who was with a partner. She felt like dancing herself, but didn't know where to jump in. Looking over her shoulder, she contemplating heading back to the tables.
In the end, it didn't matter to her if she stayed on the dance floor or sat back down. She just wanted to hang out with some friends.
So far, it was safe to say that everything prom-wise was running, well, prom-like. In the normal sense. Lots of extra super normal prom things going on, and nothing to indicate that Spike or anything else in the department of major bad news was going to slam its way in there and say hey, make with the slaying
( ... )
It was funny that Buffy thought Xander was off having fun. After a tryst in the janitor's closet that he swore was about closure and spending fifteen minutes cooling off in the library which turned into a nap in the library that he hadn't meant to take, he wasn't exactly enjoying prom. Besides, Willow was there with Oz. He wasn't about to bust that up. His track record with her that year hadn't been the best -- in any way, shape, or form. Xander wanted to ensure that Willow had a drama-free night
( ... )
Xander's voice had Buffy's head perking up in a physical sense, but she had to force the mood sense of perking up into her expression. All things considered, she'd been doing pretty good at being all held together Buffy since the bad news of Angel's plans to bail broke. Prom had just been kind of a staunch reminder that was more like a staunch knife in her gut that was slowly twisting as everybody danced.
Overdramatics aside, considering how torn apart she was feeling inside, the fact that she even managed a warm smile in Xander's direction was saying something. She looked convincingly happy, even. Just not on a joyous prom night scale. There was visible tiredness and deflateyness in her expression, behind those upturned lips.
"Thank you," she commented, genuine gratitude coming through with the deliberate way she said it. Hello, mood boost. "But, I think my ravish-y efforts are wasted on this colossal phenomena called no one caring. I hear it's a side effect of the dateless disease." There was a matter-of-fact edge in her
( ... )
Xander could see past her being held together. But, he wasn't about to lift the layers to reach the gooey Buffy center. He also wasn't stupid. This had Angel written all over it and if he could he would call the guy to give him a piece of his mind. Preferably from a safe distance away. Buffy had all but confirmed it on Facebook. But, he was the best friend. And as the best friend he had a right, no a duty to comfort and cheer up his best friend. Especially with Willow otherwares.
"This guy cares..." he said, pointing to himself. "I mean, you know, not in the caring about what's under the ravishing clothes, but you know, that you look so rad. Or, - yeah, that kind of made sense. Also, if you haven't noticed, you're probably the prettiest gal on or off the dance floor
( ... )
[ Harry has his mask in his hand and he's sipping from his flask as he steps outside. When he spots John, he lets out a grin and meanders towards him. ]
Don't even joke about that, man. I saw one when I was a kid. Just brushing my teeth, minding my own business... When I looked up, it was right there. Behind me. Saw it through the mirror. Looked like a goblin of some kind. Turned around and it was gone.
And I swear, I still hear stuff. Creepy laughters... shadows. That kind of thing.
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/o/]
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Spike had intended to get the lay of the land for a bit, maybe kill some students, that sort of fun thing, but as so frequently happened with him, he'd ended up impatient. And the Slayer was busy dancing with Harris. Spike had considered cutting in, but it seemed so obvious, and so public. He wasn't sure what Buffy would do if he just went up to her in the middle of a crowd.
He did know she'd eventually have to go to the bathroom, though. So to the bathroom he went. He took the stall furthest from the door and waited for that familiarly annoying voice to signal the Slayer's arrival.
[for Cordelia and Buffy, but free.]
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No puns intended.
"Well, it's not going to happen again," She said to herself, as if saying it out loud somehow would make it more true.
And with that she went to one of the mirrors, beginning to primp and straight herself out.
She, of course, had no idea who was lingering in the bathroom stalls.
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Cordelia Chase. He didn't know much about her, except that she always looked smashing and wasn't very bright.
His nose twitched. Why did he smell Xander Harris? He wasn't in the room, obviously. He'd probably scream in terror at the very idea of a lady's room, which meant that Cordelia and Xander must be an item.
He poked his head out of the stall.
"You do realize how much better you could do, right? Not that I give a damn, I've just seen Fyarl demons out of Harris' league."
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In the end, it didn't matter to her if she stayed on the dance floor or sat back down. She just wanted to hang out with some friends.
[free]
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Overdramatics aside, considering how torn apart she was feeling inside, the fact that she even managed a warm smile in Xander's direction was saying something. She looked convincingly happy, even. Just not on a joyous prom night scale. There was visible tiredness and deflateyness in her expression, behind those upturned lips.
"Thank you," she commented, genuine gratitude coming through with the deliberate way she said it. Hello, mood boost. "But, I think my ravish-y efforts are wasted on this colossal phenomena called no one caring. I hear it's a side effect of the dateless disease." There was a matter-of-fact edge in her ( ... )
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"This guy cares..." he said, pointing to himself. "I mean, you know, not in the caring about what's under the ravishing clothes, but you know, that you look so rad. Or, - yeah, that kind of made sense. Also, if you haven't noticed, you're probably the prettiest gal on or off the dance floor ( ... )
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That you, John?
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And I swear, I still hear stuff. Creepy laughters... shadows. That kind of thing.
[ He chuckles. ]
Mind if I join you for a smoke?
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