#script. buffy summers

buffy slips out the back door of the bronze, her senses finely tuned to the fact that danger lurks around every corner. even so, she doesn't take enough precaution, overconfident in the fact that whatever's out there causing such a stir is no match for her.

she turns on her heel, ready to grab mr. pointy of of his holster at the first sign of trouble. that is, until she, herself, is met with a stake pointed right at her jugular.

" faith. " she's not sure whether to laugh or scream, but settles for cool indifference. she knows that'll only irritate the fellow slayer more. a slow smile spreads across her lips, proud and reverent all in one. feelings were always complicated when it came to faith. " if you missed me, you could've just called. "

" from what i've heard, if you're the one that cooked the shrimp, you're about to be in a world of pain. do shadowhunters go to the emergency room for food poisoning? just wondering. or do your fancy tattoos kinda cover a cure-all? "

her comments earn her a jab from isabelle's bony elbow and buffy yelps in response. " hey, cool it! i'm just repeating what your brother told me. if you want to attack anyone with those lethal weapons, " she gestures to her elbows that she's now convinced are sharper than mr. pointy himself, " he's your man! not me! what's the saying go? don't jab the messenger? "

" doesn't the van kind of ruin the whole stealth thing? " buffy asks, staring at the multicolored monstrosity. " like, don't the baddies run once they hear this thing clunking along? and you can probably spot this thing from space. " sure, she might make exceptions to her own stealth mode, mostly for her stylish wardrobe, but they hardly seem excessive when compared to this hunk of junk!

" don't think this is your kinda problem, sir spandex-alot." buffy has her crossbow at the ready, but the only thing she seems to be firing is quip after quip. what? showing up in a get-up like that makes it far too easy. you should hear the things she's keeping in! " unless you're armed with a wooden stake. than you might actually be useful. "

after a rough and tumble kind of night in the graveyard, buffy's certain she looks worse for wear. if malia's appearance is any sort of indicator, it looks like they've both been through hell and back. and yet, the rumbling of her stomach is enough to make her ignore the fact that they look like they've just been beaten to a pulp ( they haven't. they beat some undead guys to a pulp! ). "y'think we can go through a drive-through on the way home looking like this? " buffy asks, letting out a sigh as she already knows the answer " sorry — all this slaying makes me snacky. "