❖ 020 // [Action | Voice]

[crisisrain]

[As it's a lovely, sunny afternoon Raven has finally decided to start growing the seeds he received from Flonne last week. He's been out in the garden behind house 12 for the past two hours digging up the dirt, placing the seeds, watering the ground and generally making sure he's planting them in an area where they aren't going to be destroyed when Repede decides to do his doggy business. As he finishes the last of the seeds his attention is caught when he spots a woman disappearing around the side of the building.]

Casey...?

[He quickly darts onto his feet without hesitation. But as he begins his pursuit he accidently kicks over the full watering can onto his journal. Turning around to inspect what he'd just collided with he notices the soaking wet book lying open on the ground and begins to panic. He picks it up and starts desperately shaking it dry.]

Aaaaaah! Oh geez, is it broken?! I was havin' such a nice day gardenin' too, I didn't mean ta wreck the book! It'll dry out right?

[He continues shaking the pages for a few minutes before finally giving up and sitting on the dry part of the grass, unsure of whether he did actually see her pass by or if he was just going crazy. It couldn't just be a co-incidence that he sees her on the day he's planting her favourite flower could it? He doesn't know what to think about all of this, so he just hopes nobody heard him shout her name through the journal.]

Comments

[herotypical]

[Her face paled. Maybe even a little bit of jaw-droppage.]

Oh, please don't tell me that I've got my very own cameo in the rumour mill. [Few people had approached her, and so Buffy had assumed that she had not been seen by many.]

[crisisrain]

Haha! Nah nothin' like that darlin', no worries there. Definitely no rumours goin' aroung at least.

[herotypical]

[Frowny face.] But someone told you about it?

[crisisrain]

Call it evesdroppin' on unfiltered entries.

Why does it bother ya so much? Is dear old Buffy gettin' embarassed around old Raven?

[herotypical]

[She touches a hand to her temple.] It was mostly one big night-o-humiliation.

[crisisrain]

Let's just blame it on alcohol, then no one can hold it against ya!

[herotypical]

[Big Mouth Buffy has to go and clear up any misconceptions:] The Xena costume came before the way-too-much rum.

[crisisrain]

[Trying not to laugh, seriously trying here.]

Ya might wanna put that the other way 'round when people ask.

[herotypical]

I'm not sure which version is best. The one where the outfit drove me to detrimental levels of rum consumption, or the one where the drink drove me to the glorified leather lingerie.

[The subtext being that she is not sure which part she is more ashamed off. Except where she's pretty sure the part that sucked the most was the super-awkward-rejection-party with Jack Sparrow.]

[crisisrain]

Oh yer givin' me so many wonderful stories ta pass along ya know. I wouldn't mind seein' ya in leather lingerie drunk or sober.

[herotypical]

[It wasn't quite as bad as that--but the girl's partial to hyperbole.]

Spread this around and you are so getting tied to a chair and force-fed the sweetest, sugariest treat that I can find.

[crisisrain]

Baby, you can tie me to a chair any day.

[herotypical]

[She holds up two open palms.] See this flirtation right here? Not my fault.

[But she is smiling. Some comfy, no-expectations-expected banter is very welcome after she made the fatal mistake of thinking Jack's flirtation was just as banal.] The point still stands--blab and I'll give you a cavity.

[crisisrain]

[He nods in agreement, much as he would probably enjoy it because he really is a masochist he doesn't want to upset her.]

OK, okay, I'll keep it quiet for ya! That's a promise.

[herotypical]

[Oh my.]

Pinkie swear? [At which points she extends one small finger.]

[crisisrain]

[He looks at her hand for a moment, then remembers he pinkie swore with Emil so he'd be a hypocrite not to. He wraps his manly pinkie around hers.]

Promise is a promise!

[herotypical]

[She secures their fingers together, then gives them a sharp mutual jolt.]

Why didn't you hit up the festival, anyway? I'd have thought it was totally your scene.

[crisisrain]

Had a few other things ta take care of first, not like there won't be more. [Or in english, mun was busy.]

[herotypical]

Sure, yeah--me and someone else were thinking about a big old barbecue, once it got even warmer. The kid probably could use the pick-me-up.

[Ha. She speaks of Emil, of course.]

[crisisrain]

Unfortunately thanks ta that death of mine it still feels like December fer me.

But a barbeque ya say? I'm invited right?

[herotypical]

[Her face drops just for a moment--cold? She wants to pry, but doesn't.]

Of course. I mean, I suppose I'd have to fly it by Emil. But if he's cool with a mouthy old man, then I am.

[crisisrain]

[Excuse his roar of laughter for a moment.]

I seriously doubt Emil of all people would have a problem with me showin' up.

[herotypical]

Oh, you know him? [This seems to please her an awful lot. Sometimes she gets worried about whether the kid's all alone or something.]

[crisisrain]

Emil's a good friend of mine, Blonde kid, says sorry a lot. Yeah we've got a bit of history together here. Our world's have a lot in common ya see.

[herotypical]

He lived with us over at house forty-seven, for a bit. Kaboom'd our microwave, even.

[She speaks with exceptional affection.]