Yes, if you can.

Gimme a mo'.

I got a rec over at Better Buffy Fic. A lovely rec

You have to love a Giles/Ethan story that contains two Potentials, a library, a set of lockpicks, an explosion, take-out curry, and lines like "There had been lies and prevarications between them since the day they'd met, but at times like this they'd allowed truth to show. It was no different now they were older, allegedly wiser, and much, much better at telling lies. "

Thank you, Debra Doyle

Debra is a particular friend of mine -- she writes the Mageworlds space opera books with her husband Jim Macdonald. ("It's all connected!")

Fay will be pleased that the curry is a point in the story's favor.

Connie, how cool is that?

Where is the Better Buffy Fic site, please? I want to go see.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BetterBuffyFics/

That's the mailing group, if you search Better Buffy Fic you should get the archive.

Marked. Thankee, ma'am.

De nada.

New Ship! New Ship!

It had been quite some time since someone had shown up in the lobby of the Hyperion, lost look obvious from miles off. Well, at least as far as Wesley knew. Based on his own records from the period of estrangement, it was a safe enough assumption. He stared at--client? intruder?--and asked him to repeat his statement.

"Buffy told me you guys help the helpless?" The boy bit his lip and soldiered on. "Anyhow, she gave me your card."

"You need... helping?"

"Actually, I can help. I speak a few demon languages? Know how to summon them for personal use?" The already ruddy complexion flushed crimson.

"Which helps us how?"

"I can also bake. Though, maybe not funnel cakes, because the last time I tried that, I scalded myself, and anyhow, Buffy and the girls said that they were too fattening, so I kind of gave up."

Two questions leapt to Wesley's mind at the rush of words: first, when exactly had Buffy turned evil, and second, had he himself sounded quite this pathetic when he turned up on Angel's doorstep? Actually, knowing himself, probably more so. The thought did not improve his mood.

"I was unaware we needed a pastry chef." The reaction to his words--slumped shoulders and an overall sense of something already half-flat deflating completely--make him feel uncomfortably like he'd just kicked a puppy. "We could, however, use someone else who is good with translating. It might help if you gave me your name, so I can introduce you to the group."

"I'm Andrew. Hey, aren't you that guy who used to hang out in the library with Giles?"

"Err, yes. Wesley."

"You looked really good in that tux on prom night. Like Pierce Brosnan." There was no mistaking the admiration in Andrew's voice, especially when he followed up with, "But I think I like the new look better. The stubble brings out your jaw, and you have really nice eyes."

It was Wesley's turn to blush. This had to be revenge for something, perhaps everything.