He nodded, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulders. "I wanna call B, too," she added. "And later, if I don't find what I'm looking for, I'm gonna have to work off some of this energy," she said with a small smile and a pat on his shoulder.
He sighed and followed her out the door, adjusting the strap of his bag. With Faith, it meant either fucking or fighting, so he'd simply have to be prepared for both.
They prowled around the city for awhile, checking out a few leads and poking down some of the nastier side streets. No major attacks, though there was some extra dust floating in the wind, and no sign of whatever baddie was getting a rise out of Faith. She explained to Wesley as they were leaving an abandoned warehouse where they'd rousted a small nest of vamps that this stuff took the edge off, but the underlying feeling was still there. And no, she couldn't explain it, and just give her the damn bag already if he was going to be shifting it from shoulder to shoulder the whole night.
They stopped at a twenty-four hour diner around three in the morning, despite Wesley's repeated pleas to just wait until the hotel opened up the dining room in the morning. Faith simply rolled her eyes and pushed in through the door, ignoring Wesley's nose wrinkling at the overpowering smell of grease. (Certain things were never unlearned.) They sat down and ordered waffles, eggs, sausage, OJ and milk (Faith) and coffee with toast and whatever fruit they had on hand (Wesley) from a dour looking woman named Penny.
Faith was still jittery, and she began to bounce her left foot up and down, slowly thrumming through her whole body until the table shook quietly. Wesley reached out a steady hand to cover her knee, and she looked at him weakly before squeezing his fingers with her own and propping her foot up in the booth.
Their food was delivered and they ate in relative silence, noting the passing cars and the shadowplay on the wall. Mid-bite, Faith shuddered to a halt and dropped her fork onto her plate. "Get down," she hissed at Wesley. He obliged, diving under the table--but not before grabbing a piece of nicely buttered toast.
A large green demon that looked vaguely like the Hulk crashed through the window, screaming "Slayer!" Faith looked absolutely delighted as she called out, "Over here, my man, been waiting for you all night." She jumped at it, it lumbered at her, Penny ran for the kitchen, and Wesley ate his toast.
Twenty minutes later and a lot of broken plywood furniture later, fake-Hulk was dead in a pool of it's sticky blood and Wesley was noting the event in his Palm Pilot, sending it to the central base for updating to the database. Faith had green streaks through her hair, muttering, "I didn't know it would freaking squirt at me, dammit," and he hid a smile as he finished the last of his coffee and left cash for the bill and a nice tip.
She grabbed his arm as they left the dinner, pulling him close and whispering, "Well, that takes care of the fighting. Let me get a shower, and we'll take care of the other half of the agenda."