Kat, nice story, but I have to chime in on a few things. My stepmother had only one eye. She drove for years. Knew the thickness of the paint on her car and could manouver in dense traffic. She read a lot too.

I have macular degeneration in my left eye and sometimes I just put my palm over it and read.

So loss of an eye does not mean you lose driving and reading stuff.

However, I chose to think that the bus had come to the end of its journey, and Xander let Andrew read to him because he knew it would please Andrew.

Damn, Kat, I love the image of him sitting there, listening to Andrew read.

But what Mart says - you can drive with just one eye. They make you take vision tests at the DMV, but if you pass, you're OK with it.

Or are the others just not letting him drive the bus? Or is he unsure of himself with it?

(now you've got ME saying 'huh'!!!)

Is this where I got it? I say it all the time now and wondered where it came from.

Lovely Erika, that was nice.

Kat, how sweet, and very like Andrew.

Kat that's really lovely.

I know Andrew offered to read the book but he's half in love with Xander so it made sense to me. And I thought Xander accepted, not because he physically couldn't read the book, but because hearing Andrew read it would make it easier than reading it himself.

Huh. I didn't know about the driving thing, but I would imagine that the rest of the gang would not want him driving now, especially with lots of fully-eyed peeps of legal driving age to do so. Maybe I should go back and put in something about how they won't let him drive anymore.

I wasn't even thinking about Xander not being able to read. I assume that he could do so if he chose to. It just seemed to me that he was touched by Andrew's offer and accepted it. Also, I think it might be too hard on him emotionally right now to actually read the book. And I thought it made a nice image, Andrew sitting behind Xander reading to him while the moon rose. So, I guess that's the whyfore about reading the book.

Andrew reading made sense to me, Kat.

(Gah. I wore a patch for several days after a rugby injury and collided with everyone/thing just walking! I can't imagine driving one-eyed. I guess you learn to compensate.)

(laughing at the Howardization of Buffista fic.)

Buffistas are the best editors evah. I love that y'all really make me think about what I write and why I have the characters do the things that they do, especially because I am the queen of laziness. Usually, my writing process is: write, spell check, post. I'm not exactly what you'd call reflective.

I assume that he could do so if he chose to. It just seemed to me that he was touched by Andrew's offer and accepted it.

Yup - that was my take. Besides, Andrew has whole natural drama thing going, and I imagine he'd read beautifully.

OK, this is from Kay again...guess you're not gonna get rid of those "hmms" anytime soon.
A woman on the Job sees a lot of shit. Not just your cases, cause that's kind of equal-opportunity anyways, for a detective. But there's a reason they call it "man's inhumanity to man", hmm? Men kill other men, and I'm there to clean it up. And there's your fellow officers, usually a great bunch of guys but they sort of forget the squadroom's not a locker room, huh? I know too much about all of 'em, except maybe Pembleton. And there are the real pigs. Every woman I trained with has a story about receiving some of the less attractive exhibits from Vice in the mail with her Christmas cards(I hope to God it's different now. I hope young women rookies don't still have to look at Tatiana performing private acts on herself while wearing a boa constrictor. I bitch about the quota system because it puts green recruits out on the street before they're ready, and if they're women, it's a reflection on me...just eating away at the respect I've built. But I hope it accomplished that much.)So I pretty much walk around with my jaded seen-it-all face on all the time. It's more natural to me than lipstick now and easier to reapply.

But it's no match for Caritas, which reminds me of the cantina scene in "Star Wars", which, I have to confess, is the last part of that movie I really remember...I went to see it with Chick, my first boyfriend, and by the time Luke Skywalker blew up the Death Star, we were rounding third base, which I certainly found a lot more interesting. I've tried watching it several times since, but I just find myself getting...how should I put this delicately? nostalgic, huh? But as Wesley and I walk in, I keep expecting somebody to ask us about Han Solo, or some director showing up to straighten everybody's spines for 'em.I marvel that Wesley, who seems pretty much all thumbs at human contact, seems so at ease with the creepy-crawlies.

He greets one of them pretty warmly, for Wesley...there's even some physical contact. I start to wonder if that may be why he gets so awkward when I tease him about pulling the train out of Platonicsville. Great, Kay, I tell myself, the whole Munchkin thing is not complicated enough without you getting a crush on a guy with a big green life-partner. With horns. But I thought Wesley noticed the chemistry too...I'm a detective, I should be good at this shit.