[ at first, she tries to shrink down in her booth. she doesn't even want to be associated with the drunk ranter talking about dinosaurs and tongues and los angeles -- as if the thought wasn't pangy enough. her lip curls and she sips her own drink -- a virgin daiquiri thank you very much -- and someone sitting with her must make some kind of a scathing comment because buffy's cheeks turn red.
but not with humiliation. no, more like a righteous indignation. she gathers her strength and wits about her before standing and vaulting onto the stage. management might not be kicking him out, but the slayer is. ]
I think you've had enough war stories for the night, Spike. [ her voice stays soft. as if, for now, she's not interested in scolding him too publicly. ]
no subject
but not with humiliation. no, more like a righteous indignation. she gathers her strength and wits about her before standing and vaulting onto the stage. management might not be kicking him out, but the slayer is. ]
I think you've had enough war stories for the night, Spike. [ her voice stays soft. as if, for now, she's not interested in scolding him too publicly. ]