beer_good_foamy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beer_good_foamy) wrote2007-08-27 11:37 pm
beer_good_foamy) wrote2007-08-27 11:37 pm
Entry tags:
Drabbles
Behold, I bring a separate post of drabbles!
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
open_on_sunday's "Con" prompt:
Con/vict/ion
Outtake scene from my fic Atonement's A Bitch
The potential joins the Slayer on the porch. "So... you're the infamous Faith?"
"Yup."
"Can't say it's a bad thing having another Slayer on board, but... concrete walls, armed guards protecting you, and you give that up to join Operation Certain Death?"
"Looks like."
"Why?"
"Good question." Faith lights a cigarette. "You're...?"
"Kennedy."
"Red's girl, right?"
"Yeah."
"So I'm guessing you've heard some things. Gonna give me the speech?"
"If you want." Kennedy holds her gaze. "'Hurt her, and I'll kick your ass.' How's that?"
"Depends. Really think you could take me?"
"I'd try."
Faith takes a drag. "Good answer."
And two simply because they were silly plot bunnies that wouldn't let go:
Promotional Gifts
Morning after "New Moon Rising."
A knock on the door shook Tara awake. "Wh-who's there?"
"UPS. Package for Tara Maclay."
"Just a minute." She eased out of Willow's sleepy embrace, slipped on a robe and signed for the heavy package. As she closed the door, Willow woke and smiled drowsily at her. "Good morning."
"Best morning. Whatcha got there?"
"No idea." Tara frowned. "There's no return address, just says 'Good job'...?"
"Ooo, now I'm curious." Willow sat up. "Open, open, open!"
Tara tore off the wrapping. Seeing the stainless-steel kitchen appliance inside, she blushed bright red, then giggled. "Uh... OK, I guess it's toast for breakfast."
Best Served Cold
The vibe from the hellmouth gets people to do things. Things they wouldn't normally do. Bad, vicious, evil things.
Take Babs, for instance. She'd been waitressing at Chez Jacque's Fine Cuisine in Sunnydale for three years and never snapped at a customer before. But this guy? Complained about the soup, complained about the wine, complained about the service... so finally she "accidentally" tripped and spilled dijon sauce all over his shirt. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Sir."
Of course they took it out of her paycheck, but it was worth it. She knew how impossible it was to get mustard out.
For
open_on_sunday's "Con" prompt:Con/vict/ion
Outtake scene from my fic Atonement's A Bitch
The potential joins the Slayer on the porch. "So... you're the infamous Faith?"
"Yup."
"Can't say it's a bad thing having another Slayer on board, but... concrete walls, armed guards protecting you, and you give that up to join Operation Certain Death?"
"Looks like."
"Why?"
"Good question." Faith lights a cigarette. "You're...?"
"Kennedy."
"Red's girl, right?"
"Yeah."
"So I'm guessing you've heard some things. Gonna give me the speech?"
"If you want." Kennedy holds her gaze. "'Hurt her, and I'll kick your ass.' How's that?"
"Depends. Really think you could take me?"
"I'd try."
Faith takes a drag. "Good answer."
And two simply because they were silly plot bunnies that wouldn't let go:
Promotional Gifts
Morning after "New Moon Rising."
A knock on the door shook Tara awake. "Wh-who's there?"
"UPS. Package for Tara Maclay."
"Just a minute." She eased out of Willow's sleepy embrace, slipped on a robe and signed for the heavy package. As she closed the door, Willow woke and smiled drowsily at her. "Good morning."
"Best morning. Whatcha got there?"
"No idea." Tara frowned. "There's no return address, just says 'Good job'...?"
"Ooo, now I'm curious." Willow sat up. "Open, open, open!"
Tara tore off the wrapping. Seeing the stainless-steel kitchen appliance inside, she blushed bright red, then giggled. "Uh... OK, I guess it's toast for breakfast."
Best Served Cold
The vibe from the hellmouth gets people to do things. Things they wouldn't normally do. Bad, vicious, evil things.
Take Babs, for instance. She'd been waitressing at Chez Jacque's Fine Cuisine in Sunnydale for three years and never snapped at a customer before. But this guy? Complained about the soup, complained about the wine, complained about the service... so finally she "accidentally" tripped and spilled dijon sauce all over his shirt. "Oh. I'm so sorry, Sir."
Of course they took it out of her paycheck, but it was worth it. She knew how impossible it was to get mustard out.