(laughing as the Buffistas plot)

I didn't have anything to contribute; I just like to watch my friends having fun.

Deb, could I coax you onto AIM for a moment?

Amy, yup. Hang on.

OK. I'm up. debgrabien.

Amy? I'm up....

In and out of the room - will check the blinky every two minutes or so. If I don't answer right away, give me a minute and I will. OK?

I'm up now, too. Network trouble for a sec -- there you are.

I pause briefly to point out that Homicide coincides with the X-Files universe... canonically. So vampires don't seem all that much a stretch....

That's true...I just sort of took Munch's habit of loving the craziest bitch in the room and extended it out...though not quite, even he could spot Dru. I fear it could get to be very much a DarkFic, maybe.

"Don't be tiresome," she said crossly. "it's all the same."
"Then you won't mind if I skip that guy then."
"OK, he's a bank president with a broken security system."
We ate him, of course. I told myself I was tasting every fine thing he'd eaten in his junior bourgeois lifetime, and scoring a victory for the exploited people at the bank. Blood for blood's sake didn't move me like I expected. But I loved to watch the princess get excited. She was all over it, and if I can brag for a second, all over me. She fed me warm blood from his arteries with her own delicate fingers. She screamed my name. Twice. With a history like hers, that's got to mean something, right? I could be getting Francis Drake's sloppy seconds, generations removed. I couldn't decide if that was arousing or the most disgusting thought I'd ever had...so I put it out of my mind, for the moment. Our conversations still needed a little work. -more-

That's too cool, Erika. How hilariously funny.

Also, insent.

"Do you ever wonder what the point of an unlife is?" I asked her "I mean, we feed, we fuck(which by the way is incredible and blows my undead mind every time, in case you're wondering) but is that it?"
"You're forgetting the houses and the minions," Darla said. Sometimes you could strip away the fangs and she was like the rich girls at my high school.
"Anything else?"
"We could cut a swath through Europe...That's always fun."
"I do not come from people who cut swaths in Europe...my people got swathed in Europe."
A couple of times, on what would be work nights, I almost called Kay. We kept the same hours at least half the time."Where the hell are you?" I could imagine her saying.
But what would I say? That "what?" would be a better question? What would she do? Scream? Or tell me to get my bloodsucker ass back to Balmer where it belonged? You could never tell with Kay. But I'd dial half the number, then stop.

(giggles)

Deena! What I need help wording is a challenge for stories inspired by the Coventry Carol.