[the feed opens with a giggle. A very specific giggle. The camera is not showing her face, however, because that would not be practical-and she probably didn’t mean to turn it on. And it’s also currently bouncing. Sorry for all the motion sick in the audience]Runnin’ down the avenue … see how the sun shines bright in the … something. Something
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You okay in there?
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[and yeah ... that's all you get]
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Happy Buffy.]
Glad to hear it. Should go celebrate, you an' me.
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[a beat]
Wait, that bar's not there anymore. Sunnydale went [and insert cave-in noises].
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Where are you, Slayer? Could come get you, take you someplace nice.
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[takes a breath before looking for a street sign and holding the camera up]
I'm here.
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[Action?]
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He's brought an umbrella, stolen quickly out of solicitude for Buffy, and when he strolls up it's just that--a stroll, unhurried, unworried.]
Nice day, innit?
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SPIKE! HI!
[and he's getting a hug. Because she can. It's a huggy kind of day.]
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Well hell, actually feels good, having her in his arms after all that time he thought she was dead. She was did. Is. Can't remember, but it doesn't matter because all he can smell, see, sense is her.]
Hey, Buffy.
[His voice is suspiciously soft.]
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So. What do you wanna do?
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Anything you want, love. What d'you feel like doing?
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[a beat]
I dunno. We've never really "hung out" unless there was kitten poker, or drinking or sex.
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