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25 September 2005 @ 10:46 am
 
Dear God, there was nothing worse than coming into work on a Sunday. The only thing worse than coming into work on a Sunday was voluntarily coming into work on a Sunday, simply because there was nothing else to do at the apartment. I mean, unless I wanted to go counsel traumatized teenage girls... The attack did happen practically next door. I tried talking to them, but by the looks on their faces, I could see they didn't really like my enthused, "Your friends died, you probably will too," speech. Well, what was I supposed to tell them? Everyone dies around here anyway. I mean, my boss was dead too- now she's alive and kicking in her Manolo Blaniks.

I just figured Willow would bring back any dead potential, she seemed to be doing a damn good job of reviving people, however long past they were. I even asked Tara if Willow should revive the dead potentials. She shot me the dirtiest look I'd ever seen... for Tara, anyway. I assume Tara's all dominatrix about Willow's magick, but if potentials are dying left and right? We might need Willow to step up to the plate and kill some bitches. The... evil bitches. It just sounded cool.

I sat at my desk, gnawing on the end of a highlighter, trying to read some of Lilah's documents she needed tommorow. I started highlighting haphazardly, not even paying attention to what I was reading. Sometimes highlighting the words made it easier for me to pay attention to the text, what with the yellow shiny of the pen.

Out of frustration with just working and not being able to focus, I threw down the highlighter and took a long sip of coffee. I glanced over at the clock. 10:30 AM. I'd been here twenty minutes...

(Open to anyone)
 
 
Current Mood: apatheticapathetic
 
 
 
Rupert Giles: 02. Watching You Smilerather_british on September 28th, 2005 11:50 pm (UTC)
"No no no. Bloody hell." I walked along the hallways at Wolfram and Hart squinting at my sodding mobile phone. I had been perfectly content with my old phone, but Buffy had insisted that I "stay with the times" and bought me a new one. Of course I had barely been able to use it since. I was attempting to check my voice messages, as my assistant informed me that Wesley had left me a message concerning an appointment.

"Blast it." I said shoving the stupid thing back inside my jacket pocket, as I turned to corner. Not expecting to see many employees at ten in the morning on a Sunday, you can imagine my surprise when I saw Anya sitting behind her desk, taking a long swallow from a coffee cup. I approached her with a warm smile on my face, "Good Morning Anya."