So, Mardi Gras. Fancy shindig. Lots of dancing, even more booze. A big whatever in Buffy’s eyes because she’s working tonight, so don’t be shocked if you catch her with her party down.

It’s not her ten ‘till four job, either. Nope, this one requires Miss alter ego. She-who-hangs-out-in-cemeteries. Except she’s not hanging, she’s lurking, and this place? Courtyard, not a cemetery...

Katherine’s pouty, irritable, but worst of all? She’s got a rip in her brand new designer jacket. Not that she had to pay a pretty penny for it, but it’s limited edition and that was gonna cost somebody.

She’s drinking alone, too. Glass of bourbon in one hand and a twirling fork in the other, which she was just itching to stab into some nobodies hand. Would you believe? She’s having a bad day.