Another one. Total shmoop; you can't say I didn't warn you.

Buffy

It's possible she's dreaming.

The sun's sinking over North Africa, maybe. Buffy's on the beach at Nice, the rough pebbles that take the place of sand here oddly tactile, rubbing the soles of her feet. She might be asleep, or not. She's waiting for nightfall.

Everyone else down here wants sunshine. People sunbathe nude, wanting to be seen, wanting to be warm.

She's waiting for nightfall.

And suddenly, here it is, and she's nearly alone but not completely, because he's there, just like all those years in Sunnydale, covering her back.

"Buffy?"

"Hello, Angel."

It's possible she's dreaming. Hopefully, not.

Oooh, that is nice.

Very nice, Deb.

I want a vacation myself. Jealous of all these fictional characters...

OK, so I got something for the Quote Challenge that wasn't ungodly long...More Munch angst.
(Sorry, but he is very good at it, somewhere down deep.)

“Do you always deflect personal questions with jokes?”

Yeah, unless I get lucky, and can make jokes about *somebody else*. That is as close to Fat City as John Munch will get. Mostly I do my own shtick. Did you hear the one about the pervert who wound up working Sex Crimes? Did you hear the one about the idiot who was so in love with a co-worker he couldn’t say anything for seven years, and still perks up when he sees a redhead on the street? There are many dyed redheads in Manhattan, and the biggest joke is, I’m learning to tell the difference. Ha fucking ha.

There are many dyed redheads in Manhattan, and the biggest joke is, I’m learning to tell the difference. Ha fucking ha.

Hoooeeeee. That's pure Munch, right there.

Cool. I heard him saying that, as I typed it.(Note to self: Don't open with that, with the social worker, unless you want to explore the wonderful world of Haldol.)

Martha Stewart L&O Fic...it's Cindy's fault. Part one The uniform who first arrived on the scene said that what amazed him was the smell. Not the vic...the other one. Sort of piney, like Christmas. It was easily the sweetest smelling whodunnit in the Tri-state Area.

“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Ed Green said, grabbing a danish.

“Do I even have to ask what that makes me?” Briscoe said. “On second thought don’t answer that.”
He was just starting to read the newspaper when the lieutenant caught his eye. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said, giving them one of her looks, “I need you to run out to Connecticut and talk to a witness.”

“Why? Connecticut’s Finest jammed up behind a crooked polo match?” Lennie asked.

Everyone in the squad chuckled, but Lieutenant Van Buren wasn’t happy. And when she wasn’t happy, nobody was happy, no matter how Nobody’s horse did in the fourth at Aquaduct. Lennie made a face, but as they say in AA, no single moment is unendurable. Those are looking to be close, though.

"I need somebody who can handle something...delicate."

"Careful, Lieu, the last person who said that to me, I married."

"I'll risk it. But you still need to go see Martha Stewart.

"I must be getting deaf. Did you say Martha Stewart? The cookbook lady?"

"Did I stutter? Yep, that's the one."
"Too bad, Briscoe. You're gonna have to change your socks." his partner kidded.

"Yeah. She's a VIP. I'll go nuts and change both of 'em. But what the hell...excuse me, Van Buren, am I gonna talk to her about? Do hot dogs count as cuisine?"

"You'll have time to figure that out on the way to Westport." the lieutenant said.

"Overtime," Green said. "It's a Good Thing."

Part 2 of L&O meets Martha Stewart
Lennie was quiet on the drive, even more so as the streets get wider and more tree-lined. “Briscoe,” Green said. “Do you ever think you’d be different if you grew up here?”

“Sure, “ Lennie deadpanned. “I’d pass out with my pinkie in the air and an imported lampshade on my head.”

“You’re awfully class-conscious, you know that?”

“Get a load of Colin Powell over here.” Lennie took a drink of his coffee.” See, Ed, when you’ve been on the Job as long as me, you’ll learn we all put our pants on one leg at a time. Only the scenery changes.”

“That’s kind of cynical.”

“Gee, and people confuse me with the Tooth Fairy all the time. As my daughter says “Don’t be such a buzzkill.”

“Lennie, I thought you and your daughter were...you know, estranged.” Briscoe smirked, but the squad car was starting to feel smaller than usual. Maybe the domestic diva could make another one out of pop cans.

“That’s where you’re wrong. With careful and patient effort, we’ve worked our way up to friendly indifference...eh, it’s not too bad. I used to think she’d cheer my honor guard.”

“Tough break,” Green looked at the map. “Is it a Circle or a Terrace we want?”

“Circle, dahling. Having an old Jew show up on her doorstep, she’ll think it’s April 15th.”

I am loving this, Erika. You are so good at the banter.