Oh, you are going to be sooooo happy, Deena.

Me and erika and Bev and dre all get toasters!

The H:LotS DVDs are on my short list of purchases to be made once my MasterCard bill gets whittled back down. I do own the movie on DVD and I often re-watch the FrankenTim rooftop scene. Good stuff.

I have the H:LotS S1/S2 DVDs and the movie, but I've been putting off watching the movie, because I want to see the rest of the series in order first before I see the movie again.

Yay! I get a conversion toaster...my second one ever. Very proud moment. I couldn't watch the rooftop thing again...I've entered into a very unfortunate crying-at-movies phase, and that's like too hard to explain...like "The Gift" in its way. So glad to hear that y'all think I did Kay proud...not that I'm finished yet, but that's a good feeling. Don't want to be "some hack with a word processor" or whatever a writer "secretary with a gun" is. Deena, yeah, seasons 1 and two because they were so short...NBC didn't give the show many props.I bought them too, this week.(Not just because I love the ep with Tim and Frank investigating the leather store...but I do have a special...fondness for that one.) Don't really have the money, but it's...research, that's the ticket.

(Not just because I love the ep with Tim and Frank investigating the leather store...but I do have a special...fondness for that one.)

What's not to be fond of? Listening to Andre Braugher's comment about someone in a French maid's outfit bent over the back of a chair....

Ah, there's my bunk.

I'm saying. And Timmy gets the leather jacket because the dead woman would've *really* liked him. Which he doesn't want to take, Because It's Wrong.(and back...Bayliss/Faith...I've got other things to do. Really, really.)

Bayliss/FAITH?

(thunk)

Yeah. Pretty thought, huh? But I don't know if I could make it fit, because it's Wrong.(And I've got too many things to write already, honest.)In the fall, I could do a "Five Things That Never Happened to Tim Bayliss" cause new discs will be out then and I will know more things that Did Happen and...my obsession has taken over the thread...is this what it's like to set a trend? Yay. And mea culpa.

A little bit of morning after for our favorite public servant...I'm thinking there's two more parts after this. When Kay woke up the next morning, she felt disoriented. And appalled. And pleased. Bits and pieces of the previous night floated through her memory, not everything, but enough to tell her what her best black bra was doing hanging from a stranger's lampshade. God, what had she been thinking? That thing with Beau was like an extension of friendship, this was like using her body as a theme park.
She was reassured on one score: no way would a married guy have such a filthy bathroom. She was brave and stuff but it would take more than she made on a redball to get her to step in that shower. She would have to have what her grandmother called a "whore's bath'.The word and her headache made her wince. She noted the condom wrapper in the trash with some relief. She guessed she hadn't completely lost it.
Still, she hadn't done anything this risky since she was 12 and was the best in the neighborhood at riding rollercoasters. Other people would throw up or pass out but Kay never would. She rode even more times than high school boys. "Guess I still like a good ride every now and then."But she wasn't ready to be funny yet.

Whistler came in while she was doing her abbreviated cleanup. "Hey," he said. "I thought you would be sleeping. You need your strength."

"It's OK.I'm running late".

"Hey, next time bring the handcuffs. You could interrogate me...it'll be really hot."

"Look, if there is gonna be a next time, it's not gonna be for a while. I don't usually do that on the first night, hmm? Not that it wasn't good."

When You Are Tired of London

Part Eight: Buffy’s Day

Three new pairs of shoes, one lovely new blouse and a sweater for Dawn later, Buffy found herself headed toward the restaurant where she was supposed to meet James’ friend. She realized that she was slacking off working for as long as possible, but really, how many times did she get to just goof off and have fun by herself.

“Count ‘em, never.” She thought.

London was strange and exciting. She thought it would be… sort of Gilesish. Kind of old and a little stuffy and kind of cool, in an old-fashioned sort of way. But London was as modern as L.A., and much easier to get around. It was kind of ironic, she thought, that London was so new to her.

It was also kind of quiet on the vampire front. “I mean,” she thought, “there are vampires here. Lots of them. They just don’t come in the Sunnydale economy bulk size.”

These days, when they got whiff of a vampire attack or whatever, one or two slayers had to go investigate. Sometimes she went, but not all the time, and if she did, she took a couple newbies. It was all kind of…low key.

Which was funny, she thought, because just about every mystic bad-ass over the age of 25 that she knew came from the British Isles. Giles, Angel, Spike, Wesley. Every member of the Watcher’s Council she’d ever met. Baddies like Drusilla and Ethan Rayne.

“It’s like they manufacture them here,” she thought, “and America imports them. Like how all the toys are made in China, but no one there actually buys gorillas that dance to La Macarena or bendy rubber cowboys or whatever. Huh.

“Maybe it’s a geopolitical thing,” she wondered. “Like, Britain was once the seat of world power, so all the mystical-type things congregated there, to be where the action was, and then when power moved to America, everything started trickling over. Huh.

“I wonder if someone’s ever done a study on that,” she thought, and then added, “I wonder why the fuck I’m thinking about this. Geez. I have been spending too much time at home.”

Her musings were interrupted by her cell phone. It was Faith.

“Hey, B.,” said Faith. “There’s this guy here pretending to be Giles.”

“Guy?” said Buffy. “Faith, that’s Giles’ cousin, James. Didn’t you get the note?”

“There was a note?” asked Faith. “I didn’t get a note.”

“It was on the fridge,” said Buffy. “Didn’t Dawn say something? She knew what was going on.”

“Didn’t say a word,” said Faith, a little confused. “Does this mean I should untie him?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Buffy, “Well, maybe. Yeah, untie him. He’s pretty harmless. We’re checking out some stuff here in London, but we should be home tonight.”

Faith said goodbye to Buffy, and hung up the phone.

“It’s your lucky day,” she said, turning to the trussed-up James. “Buffy said…Giles! Ohmygod! What happened? Who tied you up? Are we under attack?”

James looked like he was about to cry.

Buffy furrowed her brow at the call. Something weird was happening back at the ranch, but she figured Faith and Dawn could handle it until they got back. She came to the restaurant she was supposed to meet Terry at. Very chic, but not too formal. That was OK.

Terry, it turned out, would have been kind of babeish if he weren’t, like, old. “Of course,” she thought, “two-thirds of my last few boyfriends were over 100.”

“So you must be Buffy,” he said when she was brought to his table. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have gotten together earlier, but I had some business to attend to, and then an appointment with my trainer.”

“What are you being trained for,” asked Buffy, breezily.

“No, no. The person who tells me how to work out.”

Buffy smiled. “I know. I was just kidding. To be honest, I’m totally not any good at this Sherlock stuff.”

“Well,” said Terry. “You don’t seem the type. Lovely young woman like you should be spending her time having fun, not chasing after…what was it you said? A death threat of some sort?”

“Something like that,” said Buffy.

“Right,” said Terry. “Look, if James doesn’t want to do it himself, why don’t I just hire him a detective of some sort? Honestly, all this chasing around, running to Rupert for help business. Seriously, he’s been fixated on his cousin for too long.”

“Really,” said Buffy, who began fiddling with a spoon as Terry spoke, and wondering if she was going to have to pay for her own dinner. Then she realized she had Giles’ gold card, and stopped worrying.

"Oh yes. Idolizes the man. Don’t know why, really. Anyways, after dinner, I know I know this wonderful little place. Wonderful jazz pianist…”

Buffy began delicately folding the spoon into an accordion shape. Terry stopped talking.

“You work out, huh?” said Buffy looking up from her object d’art. Terry nodded yes.

“Cool,” said Buffy, a bit more seriously. “So tell me, who’d want to threaten James?”

“No one,” said Terry. “I mean, he dates lots of women, yes, and I think a few people owe him money, but…”

“Do you?” asked Buffy. “Owe him money.”

“Me?” said Terry. “Certainly not. Well, there was that bet on Arsenal last week, but that was just a few… wait, are you saying I’m a suspect here?”

“Don’t know," said Buffy. “Any reason you would be?”

“None!” said Terry, wondering how such a small woman could change from being so…girlish to so…intimidating so suddenly. It was as though, all of a sudden, she was remarkably… present. It was unnerving.

“Look,” said Terry. “James is my mate. Been friends for years. I’d never do anything to hurt him. I’ve let him stay at my flat when his was being fumigated. Gone with him to visit his pregnant daughter. Bought him that lovely African mask for his apartment.”