Buffy Summers already knew where Greg Bleak--Gregor Vorbarra lived. It wasn't tough to recall the room she'd walked in on, a while back -- wondering whether she ought to move herself and Jack into an apartment just like this one. Today, however, she knocked. Politely. Firmly. She'd scribbled off a brief expect me later today message to Gregor over the journals, but she wasn't certain whether he'd received it or not.
Next to her -- almost as tall as her! -- was a fine quality punching bag in dark blue. She must have hauled the thing here on her own.
Next to her -- almost as tall as her! -- was a fine quality punching bag in dark blue. She must have hauled the thing here on her own.
"...Afternoon to you, too," she quipped against his silence -- and then lifted the bag with one arm so that it just cleared the floor with an inch or two. Although she grunted briefly with the effort, the sound was more of an indulgent complaint than genuine strain.
She, too, had something of an impressed colouring. As she deposited the newer bag against the wall, Buffy turned and took in the space.
"Man. Sometimes I wish I had the room to do something like this at my place..."
"Man. Sometimes I wish I had the room to do something like this at my place..."
Oh, she wasn't certain she could ever manage living alone. Far too solitary. And she had no concept of how Jack might have been able to do it for so long...
"Meanwhile, I live with three other people. Four if you count a current refugee. Used to be five of us in the house but..."
A shrug. He knew what Luceti was like by now, certainly.
"Meanwhile, I live with three other people. Four if you count a current refugee. Used to be five of us in the house but..."
A shrug. He knew what Luceti was like by now, certainly.
She shrugged. Hollom had always kept to herself; she couldn't be sure what he'd gone back to. She hoped it was something good, though.
"Mostly? We don't eat as well as we used to. But, uh, you're actually still living solo here?"
Curious. Her investigative nature was not well hidden.
"Mostly? We don't eat as well as we used to. But, uh, you're actually still living solo here?"
Curious. Her investigative nature was not well hidden.
"...Oh. Fancy that. I kinda went out of my way to not go name-dropping you, what with your whole alias fiasco. But it sounds like it's totally okay for me to own up to knowing you? 'Cause that'd really be great.
I generally suck at undercover."
I generally suck at undercover."
"...Huh. Fancy that."
She bought herself some time to chew over this fact by dipping into some teasing: "You told him good things, I hope."
She bought herself some time to chew over this fact by dipping into some teasing: "You told him good things, I hope."
"You know, it's rare that I find myself on the ancient history side of the time divide. So it's fair to say that I'm having an interesting time with it, too."
Sometimes, it made her miss Bones.
"How is he settling?"
Sometimes, it made her miss Bones.
"How is he settling?"
Said like she still didn't believe Ivan had been genuinely trying to pickh her up: "Okay. Either he's very talkative or you're very...observant."
It wast the polite way to say nosy, really. After all, she was fairly nosy herself.
It wast the polite way to say nosy, really. After all, she was fairly nosy herself.
She began picking at the less-than-decent punching bag. Critically examining its seams, eyeing its hook.
"Kind of a Casanova, huh?"
"Kind of a Casanova, huh?"
She glanced across the room at him -- eyebrows up.
"Gee, suddenly I feel a whole lot less flattered by his attentions." Which was probably a good thing, in the end.
"Gee, suddenly I feel a whole lot less flattered by his attentions." Which was probably a good thing, in the end.
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