ethrosdemon ||| Buffy & Angel

Waiting for the Database to Load
by ethrosdemon

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com
Distribution: you do not want it
Disclaimer: Joss made it up, too bad he is an incompetent ninny. Mutant Enemy and others own the rights. No suing please.
Rating: PG
Pairing: none
Feedback: Bash away, chickadees
Dedication: Lar, Lar, Lar
Note: unbetaed 10 minute fic may contain many errors, all mine.
SPOILERS: Dear Boy

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Women aren't supposed to have good peripheral vision. That's what I read in Psychology Today. Men see wide and women see further straight ahead. The test group didn't include any women who spend their time around snot ghouls or ice phantoms or British men with questionable sexuality or street kids with SERIOUS attitude issues or Angel.

You have to be able to watch him out of the corner of your eye. That's where he likes to stand. It's his place. You might see him or you might not depending on your concentration, if the doom is rapidly impending or just looming. And, like, it's hard to not be totally aware of him hovering now that he likes to cop a feel whenever the mood strikes. Maybe not a feel. Cop a nuzzle.

He's got the vamp DTs too. His hands tremble so much he spills coffee all over his shirts that cost more than my last five pairs of shoes. I am NOT bitter, but I am thinking that he needs to check the personal space before drinking because his shirt is indigo today and not black. Don't wanna even THINK about where the money for his laundry bill is gonna come from. Wes's check, sure as hell not mine. I write them out. What's he gonna do, tell? Also don't wanna take too much time to wonder what he is shaking for. Already know. Pretend not to. Blood, the human kind, on the hoof. So, I watch him when he tries to sneak around all stealthy and vamp-like, 'cause I am also thinking that the touchy-feely might have been about sampling from the in-house stock. He would never kill me, I have faith in that, but being a snack is not on my to-do list for the week.



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