makeitquick | 1st Dusting

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1st Dusting

[Voice]

[This voiced bit is made after this hapadash intro here. Getting to be around sunset now]

So, is this Slayer part two here, show up in some "other world?" Gotta say, this is totally toy if it is.

But hey, girl's gotta do, right? So any lurks out there, here I am. Come find me, I dare you.

[To be honest, she's not sure if she believes this is the case or not. She's just restless - to be out of Versi, to not be near Gates or Erin or her new flat with all the heritage she was just beginning to discover. To assume - or perhaps more accurately, pretend - that showing up in this weird wing-world is an extension of that whole deal.

If anyone wants an action portion instead, she's ~~wishing she had her scythe or blaster~~ hanging out around central plaza, on one of the shop roofs, watching people. At least she has on her own set of clothes by now]

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[ up the front steps! ]

After you. [ and buffy opens the door. ]

Thanks.

[Okay, in through the door. And into... homey home]

[ a homey home littered with well-loved weapons. at least the scythe is still carefully tucked away somewhere else. ]

Okay. Kitchen? Over here. Want some orange juice, too?

[Oh, weapons. Weapons are something she's used to. But no, okay, let's just head to the kitchen for now. following her. Wait... Orange Juice?]

Okay, juice. I like juice.

Something she knows and likes. Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner. One tall class of pre-sandwich OJ coming straight up.

[ buffy tugs the fridge door open and grabs a carton. ]

Roger that, Summers.

[And... okay, she'll take her seat now]

[ buffy strides with a confident, friendly demeanour. she grabs two tall glasses -- water glasses, not juice glasses -- and tops them to the very brim. her pour is easy and practiced with no spills; over a year as a bartender has offered her some small but appreciated skills.

she slides one over to melaka. ]

[So... domestic. It's so outside of all of the frames of reference she has right now. So when she gets the glass, she stares at it a moment before taking a tentative sip. Which oh man what is that taste? Her eyes go wide, and she stares at it in alarm for a moment when she sets the glass back down]

What?

[ she watches melaka with mild interest and then sniffs her own glass. ] It's not spoiled, is it? Please don't tell I just served you spoiled juice. They'd revoke my bar license. If I, y'know, even had one to begin with. Still.

No? I dunno.

[She stakes another sip, still surprised by the taste of it. Was Juice always this intense? This tangy? She purses her lips, and then shakes her head]

...It's different.

[ she took a tentative drink from her own glass -- judging it, apprehensive in cast it has indeed gone off. but buffy then presses two fingers to her lips and, hey! not bad at all. delicious. thirst-quenchy. ]

...This is the calcium fortified stuff. Maybe you're just tasting all that extra vitaminy goodness.

Yeah, it's poss. It's not bad anyway.

[Sip. Her lips purse again. Man, it's so weird and probably just filled with vitamins, like she said. Or... well, whatever]

[ out comes a loaf of hearty multi-grain. a jar of mayo. a head of lettuce. a tomato. deli-licious turkey slices. and... ]

How do you feel about cheese?

Feel like that's Uppers food.

[Sip. It's not anything she'd resist, but it's something she's only rarely had]

...What's 'Uppers food' mean, anyway?

[ out comes some swiss cheese. ]

Food they eat in... the Uppers.

[A beat]

In Haddyn, those who can 'ford it live up there, the high life. Rest of us are down in the lower levs or the warrens. Me, I'm a warren gal.

...Oh.

[ she slices off four hunks of bread. ] Well -- that? That's not an issue, here. We all eat like we can afford it, here.

[ or we all should, she thought. but there were exceptions and buffy seems to always find herself feeding those exceptions. ]

[She bites back other commentary. About how she doesn't need pity or her assurances of charity. But... those would be pointless right now. Instead she takes a sip to shut herself up, shifts in her chair, and leans over the counter]

I heard there isn't a coi to be found here.

[ the older slayer sets up an assembly line of sandwichery. four slices, laid out. slathered in butter. mayo. extra helpings of nearly every ingredient; buffy recognizes a slayer's appetite and knows how to provide for it. ]

We do things straight up Russian, here. Filthy, filthy Communists. Or that's how it's meant to be. It's not how it always works out. There's a kind of currency, sure. It's just not in bills or little pieces of metal.

Take it isn't creds either.

[That's how it is in the uppers. In the middle layer, sometimes you even get bills. In the warrens, well... metal pieces describes the show pretty well. But wow. That. Is a lot of food for one sitting.

If I'm interpreting that right? Then -- nope, no creds. Cred-free.

[ she saws the sandwiches into diagonal halves. ]

[She gives a look. Right now she's wary. She can think of a lot of prices - some much worse than others - so right now she just wants some degree of clarity]

...Consider it rep-based. It's a lot of who you know and what you can do for each other.

[ she holds out one plated sandwich. ] Don't get me wrong. There's also plenty of kindness.

Just like home.

[She doesn't know if she's being sarcastic there or not, honestly. But she gratefully takes one of the sandwiches. Doesn't bite it just yet, but she takes it]

...You'll find that people will recognize the job title in these parts. I've been public since a while back. Yet another fair warning.

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