Video+Spam

[hungryanhorny]

[A rare sight on all your screens tonight: Faith, actually drunk. Drink up the relaxed look on her face, bargegoers. With B and her clashing, this might be the last time for a while.]

 Yo! Listen up, dogs. New girl's gonna be co-running the bar from now on. So if Camalot from the other night wants to come on down some time, Romulan floats are on me.


General spam for anyone who wants to bump into her: 


[She hangs up the video, wandering down the hallway; trying not to think about the choice she just made. She can't help but wonder if Tommy might be proud.

Look at her - getting all responsible..]

Comments

[ Spam - per AIM plotting ]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean doesn't notice the video posted to the network; he's busy getting himself patched up in the infirmary and trying not to bite anyone's head off for something none of them can predict or fix. No one here can. Angua pissed him off, yeah, and that's a huge part of it, but even Dean can't deny in the space of his own thoughts that he was already halfway there to begin with. More than.

He's still pissed.

So have a hunter, patched up and distracted, as he strides back down towards level 4 from the Infirmary. He's more than preoccupied enough to not be watching for other people in the hallway.]

[Spam]

[hungryanhorny]

[And Faith... well, mostly sober. And has her head in her hands, trying to figure out how the hell she managed to get into this mess.

Ideal conditions for bumping into an already pissed hunter.]

[Spam]

[surfaceshine]

[So it should really be no surprise when that's pretty much exactly what happens; Dean recoils from the collision at once, protective of his shoulder and ribs, and instantly far more annoyed than the situation actually calls for him to be. Seeing who it is doesn't much help.]

Jesus christ - is there a freaking Slayer magnet in my chest or something? [He's more exasperated than pissed off, but in the young hunter, these two sometimes manifest the same. In the next moment he's still somewhat more abrasive than he normally would be, but -] You alright?

[Spam]

[hungryanhorny]

Fine. [She's giving him a wary look, though. What was with that little display?] Something up?

[Spam]

[surfaceshine]

[Dean hasn't had a chance to change, yet, so he's now walking around in his torn up, blood-spattered jeans and a scrub top from the infirmary, his ruined shirts balled up in his hands; the edge of gauze peeks out at his collar and at the hem of the shirt arm just above his biceps, and he keeps that shoulder on the opposite side of his body from her, unconsciously protective of it. There's a bruise spreading across his cheek, dark and fresh, and a cut over one eye that's been cleaned and butterfly-bandaged. He's glaring in that way that suggest he doesn't really mean to, but right now he can't make his face into any other expression.]

No. It's handled. It's been handled.

Re: [Spam]

[hungryanhorny]

Yeah?

That why your face looks like someone took a sledgehammer at ya?

[Spam]

[surfaceshine]

[And now he's totally intending to glare.]

Not to be a cliched douche or anything, but you should see the other guy - and yeah. I said it's been handled, and I damn well meant it.

[Spam]

[hungryanhorny]

Hey, your buz big guy; just saying. You look worse than I... felt.

[Spam]

[surfaceshine]

Yeah, it is. [He's snippy, but he's calming down a bit. And what she says finally seems to connect with the last time he saw her, which was reacting to the footage of Tommy. He's drawn up a bit shorter than he otherwise would've been, brow furrowing, though still a bit too testy to be easily labeled concerned when he says] What's going on with you?