[visual → faith's apartment] i am alone in this bed house and head she never fixes this

[thesecondslayer]

As Faith rolls, the tablet is not exactly turned on purposefully. Taxon is treated to the view of one slender arm reaching across the screen-- and a quick glimpse of a tattoo on the upper arm, identifying the owner of said limb-- then pulling back with a huge bag of chips in hand. She's out of view, but after the loud crunching of many gigantic

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[ visual ]

[fuckyouripper]

Ethan is busy when he notices what's on the tablet; not playing, but acquainting himself with the instrument that he hatched. (It's a Stradivarius and you can suck his dick.) His priorities being what they are, it takes him a little while to extricate himself from his delight and, with the violin in his hands, lean over the tablet to get a better look.

"Americans," he drawls, upon realization. "No patience at all."

[ visual ]

[thesecondslayer]

That an invitation, Ethan?

"Brits," Faith returns, not yet moving into view, just taking another deep hit and grinning. "Always gotta be pissy bitches."

[ visual ]

[fuckyouripper]

Yes. Yes it is.

"Tch. If you want something done right..."

[ visual ]

[thesecondslayer]

Play your cards right, Ethan-- or, you know, any cards at all-- and it'll be a good time.

"Hatch it your freaking self and smoke up." Another deep inhale, and a long silence as she holds the smoke in, longer this time. "Waiting around is bullshit." Deep thoughts from Faith Lehane.

[visual]

[likeajoan]

Well. At the present moment in time, Buffy's in a state of what one could quite (un)comfortably term 'mental breakdown'. Dawn is missing, she knows Eric has to be behind it-- she blames herself for the whole mess, she has absolutely no plan, no way she can think of to get her sister back by force, and absolutely no bargaining chips to work with. She's in the back room of the Magic Box, fighting the urge to cry (it's not helpful, it won't get Dawn back), and stockpiling her useless weapons.

So when Faith pops up on her tablet (and it is Faith, obviously), she just stares at the thing for a second, blankly, before asking. "Having fun there?"

[visual]

[thesecondslayer]

Jesus, Buffy, could you be any more of a buzzkill? Faith just sighs. "It's a party, B. You want something?"

[visual]

[likeajoan]

"Not really. Just glad to see you're being productive."

Yes, Buffy. Being a bitch to Faith, who really doesn't deserve it, just because you happen to currently be in your own personal hell-- no, wait, actually, that's quite a good reason. Carry on then.

[visual]

[thesecondslayer]

"You call just to be a bitch? Next time, leave a message, I'm trying to enjoy the buzz, here."

And because apparently tonight's normal roles will be reversed, Faith sighs and sits up, moving the tablet so she can look at Buffy. "This some kind of Just Say No bullshit?" Well, it was a stab at concerned at least?

[location: faith's apartment]

[suckmychest]

The nest has been rather busy of late. First Jessica moving in, then Dawn - well, she didn't so much move in as just show up and then wasn't allowed to leave, and now Sookie. And that last kept throwing him curveballs he isn't ready to deal with just yet.

So after seeing Faith's accidental transmission, Eric gets an idea. He grabs his jacket (not the same one he had when last seeing the Slayer, but it's similar enough) and heads out. Faith's apartment is a few stories up, but that hardly makes any difference. He simply flies up and hovers outside the window.

Knock, knock, Faithie.

[location: faith's apartment]

[thesecondslayer]

Having spoken to Buffy, Faith has needed to smoke even more to keep the buzz going. Buffy's good at a lot of shit, but not prolonging the high.

As such, Eric is treated to the sight of a half naked Slayer, laying on the floor with a joint in one hand, beer in the other-- and a bag of Doritos close at hand-- while very seriously examining the ceiling.

"Fuck off, we don't want any." Right, because people knocking at your window is normal and not at all anything to even worry about, Faith.

[location: faith's apartment]

[suckmychest]

Eric can tell just how much she's been huffing, even through the window pane. And while it is a lovely view with that much skin, he didn't come all this way just to ogle her through a window. Hell, he could have done that from home.

"You seem to have me mistaken for Avon," he says dryly, but loudly enough to be heard through the glass.

[location: faith's apartment]

[thesecondslayer]

"Girl Scouts." Her face creases in concentration. "Shit I want cookies now." Yes, indeed this is the caliber of conversation Eric can expect until Faith stops smoking like it'll be outlawed tomorrow.

"You want something, Fang?"

[visual and most likely location eventually]

[fudgingkillyou]

Oh, Dean sees you there, Faith, and actually? He's never been high. He's been wasted, totally smashed to the point where he couldn't even see, but high? Never had the chance, and didn't have time for it-- drugs meant addiction, and addictions and hunters? Bad mix.

But he's not a hunter right now, and he's bored as fuck.

"Lehane, the hell are you doing?" Dean asks lazily, sprawled in his usual huge-ass armchair at Bobby's house. No way in hell he would've talked about drugs in Mary's house.

[visual oh hay dean]

[thesecondslayer]

Pretty hard to get a Slayer drunk, when it comes down to it. (Buffy doesn't count, freaking lightweight.) Drugs are easier; get blitzed and keep going, don't give your system the chance to work it out.

"Thought that was obvious, pretty." She rolls-- literally; the hardwood floor feels all kind of cool and good against her back-- into view, confronting Dean with a view he hasn't had yet. (She doesn't mind if you stare, Winchester. Just saying, those are some fantastic tits.) "Don't tell me you never got high."

[o hay faith and faith's chest, sup]

[fudgingkillyou]

"I got a few guesses," Dean remarks, and to his credit, he's pretty unfazed by the sudden visual of Faith's chest-- or at least, he looks unfazed. Really, he's totally staring, but managing to have an actual conversation without drooling on himself like a thirteen year old boy.

"Nah, actually, I haven't," Dean says, raising an eyebrow. "Gonna take a wild guess and say this isn't your first time?"

[nm, nm. chilling, being perky and nicely formed.]

[thesecondslayer]

"I'll tell you when you're getting warm." Faith stretches lazily, exhaling smoke up towards the ceiling in one long blue-gray stream. "Nah, not even my tenth, pretty."

Another drag, and then Faith is looking up again, mischievous and a little dirty. "So, you looking to bust that cherry, Winchester?"

[ visual ]

[thesecondslayer]

"Angel." Now in addition to high as a kite, Faith sounds genuinely glad to see someone. "Thought maybe you bailed, big guy. What's the matter, can't stop by and say hi or something?"

[ visual ]

[thesecondslayer]

She laughs a little, shaking her head. "Nice of you, Angel. You figure it out, give me a call."

Faith's never been big with plans. She'll get out or she won't, not like thinking about it all the time's going to make any difference.

"Yeah, I get it. Been busy myself, with Fang and his boy, G..." Even under the influence of copious amounts of seriously strong weed, she can't help the flash of anger-- and the pain under it, but anger's easier to deal with-- that mentioning Giles brings. "And whatever, I'm gonna kick it before I'm thirty, and it's not gonna be from smoking up."

It's a little heartbreaking how she doesn't even seem upset about her self-prophesied imminent demise.