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Private to Steph:
You wanna give me the 411 on Babs, BG? 'Cause I thought you were the one with the bat suit.
[Barbara's folder is in her lap; a little crinkled, and hastily smoothed over from the half a dozen reading's she's managed so far. But she looks determined right now.]
[Faith's just sort of... staring at her lap, here; fidgeting a little; there's hand scrawled notes all over the place, quizzes she made up for herself - mostly hidden, but peeking out between papers. There's a look of almost panic on her face - and she can't quite get out the request for help.
Just... give her a moment, would ya?]
Private to Barbara:
[The folder's stashed behind her somewhere - no clue as to how much or little attention she's been paying; there's a casual look to her, as if she's not going crazy.]
You up for drinks, Babs?
[She's phrasing this like a request; but she will be down there knocking your door open in no time if you say no.]
Public:
[The file's back in her lap again; she's only spent the last ten minutes making sure it's presentable - fidgeting and going back and forth. She's used to being the impulsive sort - but now she's in charge of someone, and that's... that's scary.
Still, she puts on a smile, and tries to laugh.]
Guess the Admiral got tired of my free ride, huh?
You wanna give me the 411 on Babs, BG? 'Cause I thought you were the one with the bat suit.
[Barbara's folder is in her lap; a little crinkled, and hastily smoothed over from the half a dozen reading's she's managed so far. But she looks determined right now.]
Private to Buffy:
[Faith's just sort of... staring at her lap, here; fidgeting a little; there's hand scrawled notes all over the place, quizzes she made up for herself - mostly hidden, but peeking out between papers. There's a look of almost panic on her face - and she can't quite get out the request for help.
Just... give her a moment, would ya?]
Private to Barbara:
[The folder's stashed behind her somewhere - no clue as to how much or little attention she's been paying; there's a casual look to her, as if she's not going crazy.]
You up for drinks, Babs?
[She's phrasing this like a request; but she will be down there knocking your door open in no time if you say no.]
Public:
[The file's back in her lap again; she's only spent the last ten minutes making sure it's presentable - fidgeting and going back and forth. She's used to being the impulsive sort - but now she's in charge of someone, and that's... that's scary.
Still, she puts on a smile, and tries to laugh.]
Guess the Admiral got tired of my free ride, huh?
