[Buffy is out in her finest fall fashions, today. Bundled under one arm is a pile of flyers and she has a staple gun gainfully employed in her opposite hand. Any building that will allow her to work her PR skills will now be sporting a (
cute little advertisement )
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[... ewwww buffy cooking. that's a worrying thought.]
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Really? Like from the pumpkin before the men at the pumpkin insides factory put it into that teeny weeny can?
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Duh. [A beat.] ... I mean, I'm not very good at the getting the insides out... or the stabbing. But I can make it.
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...You should show me how.
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Samurai Goroh... Samurai Goroh. It's not that hard. [Grumble, grumble. But Buffy is long gone by this point. He undoes all her hard work and pockets that flyer for later.
Speaking of later, he'll be at the bar. He doesn't notice her come in, but when she starts talking to her journal, he speaks up without turning around.]
A veteran now, eh?
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[Her tone is light. Jaunty. This isn't a game of one-up-man-ship. At least, not a real one.]
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[Everything is one-up-man-ship, Buffy. Everything.]
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Thinking of signing up, I hope? [PR mode is a go.]
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I'm giving the people here the tools they need to make it in this place. That's all.
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