"Would you like me to lie to you now?
Yes. Thank you, yes.
Illyria and Wesley,
Not Fade Away (#5.22)
xxxx
He stood at her grave and silently pulled apart the fake peonies that had decorated it; she hated plastic flowers.
A shadow passed the marble but he was too busy trying to recall the exact auburn of her hair.
"I could make the pain go away, you know."
He decided not to face the leather-clad intruder, determined not to give it the satisfaction.
"You don't have to cry over little old me,"
That was enough,
"STOP IT! Stop talking like you're the same, cause you're NOT, you're NOT HER!"
He spun round to see the reason for his mourning, who was wearing a Paddington Bear jumper when she died, in a corset, steel-toed boots and fangs.
"Don't make this hard, just give in, baby."
"But what if-"
Her face de-vamped, features becoming those of the dead girl.
"Would you like me to lie?"
"Yes please."
