what would happen if Jayne and/or Simon were subjected to Vogon poetry.

There's an interesting idea... must think about that.

connie, loving it.

deb, I like the Trophy piece.

"Suuuuuuuuure you don't." Harmony pushed her slender tummy forward, slouched as deep as she could go, and dropped her voice. "Worst. Spike. Impersonation. Ever."

t chokes

Brava, deb!

Supposing it was the First talking to a ghost? Rather than the First talking to the living?

Supposing, for whatever reason, the First didn't realise the person they were talking to was actually dead already?

Funny, I was thinking about a scenario of the First summoning up the spirit of Adam (yeah, Adam) to discuss the concepts of existence and evil. Odd thought, that.

Victor, dude, you have got to write that. It would be amazing, and I suspect you'd do it superbly.

Victor, dude, you have got to write that. It would be amazing, and I suspect you'd do it superbly.

Maybe when I get back from Syracuse. I've had a Bunny for an AtS spec script around, and I may use this to flesh out some of what's in my head for that.

OK, I'll wait. I'll even keep my dirtygirl fingers off it. This Bun's for yooooou...

New V!Giles in my LJ!

[link]

Okay, here's the Spred I wrote for Plei. It doesn't really have a title... going with Coffee or Something at the moment.

Fred worked feverishly. She was so close, so close. She glanced again at the formula on the wall behind her, top left corner, squinting to make it out in the gloom, and nodded. This is it. Yes, ammonite. Who would have suspected ammonite? Really, this was more like a spell than science, though, suppose, if you actually measured, input, output, distinguishing… you'd need quite a few experiments, and it would have to be in controlled conditions. She thought about, and then dismissed the idea that wearing patchouli might be required. Still, scent as carrier, energy, waves…. She rushed over to the wall where the windows used to be and began writing feverishly in the last white space left.

A minion poked his head in and stood waiting for her to recognize him, looking bemusedly at the walls. It had been really frustrating trying to get anything done around here until she'd commandeered her own lab. When she started writing on the walls, Lilah arranged for her windows to be removed and her walls to be covered in white boards. She'd taken out half the bulbs herself. She needed controlled conditions to do her work. At least, if they didn't understand, they'd finally left her alone to do it.

Still, she'd had to give some stern talkings to…to people, to get them to stop knocking. Knocking just, it made her uncomfortable, interrupted her train of thought. It had been very frustrating. It was weeks and weeks before she'd been able to get that last thought down. It was, probably, not the stern talking, more likely it was opening the door with a taser in her hand the last time someone knocked that had made them stop. She hadn't actually thought about it, she was, really, just so frustrated. Weeks of work, and then weeks more just because they wouldn't stop knocking! If they'd just stand there quietly until she had her idea down. She shouldn't have had the taser though. It had made working with them all a little more tense for awhile.

The minion cleared his throat and Fred ignored him. Really, how they ever expected her to get anything done with this kind of interruption, she couldn't imagine. This one more, something about the waves, and energy, and the patchouli. She wondered if Willow ever wore patchouli, or any kind of perfume, though, really, Willow seemed pretty outside the norm. She regretfully dismissed thoughts of Willow participation. One experiment with Willow and the results would just all be skewed and she wasn't sure Wolfram and Hart could even get Willow for her. She sincerely doubted Willow would just volunteer, not for an experiment at Wolfram and Hart. She laughed.

"Ma'am?" The minion spoke hesitantly, but with the air of a man who'd steeled himself to an unpleasant duty.

She continued scribbling, humming along with the rhythm, hurrying. She had to get this down, just a little more, it was really so very important.

"Ma'am. I'm afraid…" He stopped when she whipped around with a look of pure fury on her face.

"What are you doing?" She asked despairingly. He was a guard. Really the numbers, the ideas, she was losing them, every second took away from what she could put, and it would take so much time! They'd let anyone bother her, and she supposed it was okay, because, after all, she was just crazy old Fred, but, she was losing her train of thought. She took a deep breath and got ahold of herself, corralling the wild thoughts.