vor | Luceti Appointments

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"Invited a vampire into your home."

She passed inside with no problems. Wonderful. "Normally? They can't even step inside without your say-so. It's the same for all private dwellings."

"Good to know." For all Gregor knows, a vampire has to be invited each individual time they show up. He shuts the door behind her. "I guess I know what not to do next time if you turn out to be your..." he makes a motion at his side "...other friend after all."

"Not a problem."

She bee-lined for a position deeper into the apartment's front room and gently left the presents on the nearest table. They could come later; for now, she wanted to get all this weirdness out of the way. "I can have my people do an uninvitation spell. Uhm, person. There's just the one of her. But it'll be no trouble."

"...Wait, this thing's not attached to him corporally, is it?"

"...It's attached to the demon. I think. And right now the demon's in--"

She hesitated, pointing first at her head. And then her heart. And then regretting that she'd said anything at all.

"I don't know how it works. I've never seen a vamp in a body switch before. I've been body-swapped in the past but that was with--" Faith. "A co-worker. Ish."

Good thing Gregor doesn't know Faith is as strong as Buffy, or he'd be a lot more displeased about Faith and Ivan. Although he trusts that's going to be a one-night thing.

"If you think there's a need, she can do whatever she needs to this flat."

"There might not be. Spike's...not a terrible person. Just a little on the socially unacceptable side. But he's not like every other vampire. Hell -- he's not like any other vampire..."

But that's a weird conversation. So. "How was the party I missed?"

"Admittedly, pretty fun." Gregor's black eye might be an indication of how much fun.

She smiled. It didn't quite look like one of her own Buffy-smiles but it was close. Kinda. It was in the general region.

"Are you sure? 'Cause it kinda looks like you might've gone to a bar brawl instead of a...what was it? Plebe party."

Still -- she was sad she missed his first one. "Of course, some of us enjoy bar brawls."

"No one believes me when I say this, but I was drunk and tripped over my own feet."

It's the truth, just not how he got the black eye.

"Truthfully?" Buffy's ready to trust him. Any ribbing she subsequently dished out was more for humour's sake than for suspicion: "Because I bet no one believes it on account of it being everyone's excuse for everything. I know I used to use it so mom didn't question my bruises every morning...

Except for the drunk part. Telling her that wouldn't have helped all that much."

Screech to a halt.

"Wait. What? Bruises?"

His mind doesn't automatically go to because vampire slaying.

"Not always. Not every night, I guess. Just when it got...bad." Manly, pale hands do a little freaking-out gesture in front of her. "I was chosen when I was fifteen. But it was kind of a secret. I couldn't exactly tell mom and dad that I was out fighting the forces of evil."

Because when she did try and tell them? Hank had put her in the hospital. "So I think they thought I was in a girl gang."

He relaxes a little. "That would probably sound crazy, yeah." He gestures for her to sit, then drops into a large, cushy chair himself and hooks a leg over the arm.

And so she sat. And sat so primly! Knees pressed together and ankles gracefully crossed and hands perched on her lap.

"Trust me. The other guys mostly always looked worse."

...This reminds him of one of the Vorrutyer clan. Byerly? Yes. Like a blond, older Byerly Vorrutyer.

"I believe you." Too many judo lessons not to. "Did they ever find out the truth?"

"Mom did. Dawn did -- that's my sister. But..."

Not Hank. But remembering that fathers were potentially an awkward subject for the pair of them, Buffy reached instead for the rectangular gift wrapped in pale blue. Tiffany Blue, if you must know. But the box didn't hold jewellery. It held something better. And so she held it out to him.

It was the ultimate plebe party activity. "It's a few days too late," she explained. "But it's the thought that counts."

There still remained the second present: the gift bag.

Edited (so many errors.) Date: 2012-09-29 04:43 pm (UTC)

Gregor obediently unwraps it, then stares a bit. "Is it like a board game?"

A board game from Jackson's Whole, to judge by the title?

...She was clearly excited about being able to give this gift.

"It isn't just like a board game. It's the board game. Definitely a definite article kinda game. It was between this and Scrabble but this has more players. I thought...we could maybe all play it. At the party."

But his hesitation was beginning to sink in..."Or maybe I just have a very lame sense of fun. I'll admit," a nervous chuckle, "it's no bar brawl."

"We played 'I never' instead." He opens the box and takes out the little shoe piece. "And I think our small motor functions were pretty much shot by midnight."

"Is it rude to say I'm not sorry I missed it? 'I never' always blows up in my face.

This game is a whole lot less humiliating. Usually."

And suddenly -- although she was a grown woman in an even growner man's body -- she felt childish. Monopoly, indeed. What were they...in grade school?

He's scanning the rules. "This sounds..." Jacksonian. "Interesting. Like a strategy game, except you're conquering territories with money."

"That's captialism for you. But it's not really territories. More like...a city. Or a city block? I don't know. What I do know is I always like being the top hat. But I see you as a man-on-horseback kinda guy."

Gregor carefully fits the top back on and sets it aside. "Thank you." My gosh, do Barrayaran games reveal so much about their culture as old Earth games do? Considering the most popular ones are strategy games, almost certainly. "I'll have to..." He waves one hand, at a loss for what to do with a present he needs several other people to use.

Oh. Chin lowered, she would have been blushing with shame had Spike's body allowed it. Get a game, she thought. Everyone'll have a good time. But she was too late and she had the vampire to blame for it and now she felt dead in the water as well as just plain-jane-actually-dead.

It might have been a perfectly manageable failure except she was already having one of those weeks. And without her moral-support-pirate around to help her. Who could blame him? Why would he ever want to be around her right now?

"It's late," she started -- drawing her hand away from the second gift. She could just leave it there. "Well. For you. Maybe not for me. Creature of the night, now. But I should really be back on the beat."