Buffy ducked into the locker room with a sigh of relief. Thank God that's over, she thought, and I'll finally be getting that raise they promised. Just one more week. You can make it, Buffster. Mental encouragement: every Slayer's primary tool. Well, after stakes. And sharp, pointy objects in general. And magic. But it's up there on the list, anyway, she consoled herself.

"Uh, B-buffy. Hi." The uncomfortable voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to see a face that only a mother could love.

Oh. Him. "Hi-" Damn. What's his name? Come on, Buffy, the day hasn't been that long, and you've seen his nametag a dozen times today alone... Damn! "Uh, hi."

He brightened at her lackluster response. "How're you doing?"

She blurted out her usual, "Fine, thanks, and you?" before she thought about it. Smooth, Buff. In case it hasn't registered, the idea is to get him to stop talking. Blondes. She was about to retaliate to herself - the sheer illogic of that hadn't sunk in yet - when He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless-Because-Buffy-Is-An-Idiot replied.

"Good, thanks for asking. So, um, do you work here a lot?"

"Yeah, it's pretty much full time." Um, duh. He only sees me here almost every day. Real genius. But this response had set off one of his tics: perpetual nodding.

His head bobbed up and down. "Oh, cool. Do you, like, go to school or anything?"

Buffy caught herself before she rolled her eyes. Don't need to alienate the co-workers, after all. "No, no, not any more. I used to take classes at UCSD, but not now." Yes, very clever. Stating the obvious much? And... God, he looks like a bobble-head doll doing that. Or maybe a pigeon. She paused in her mental byplay, considering. Well, a pigeon with serious acne, anyhow. Do pigeons get acne? He'd kept talking, and Buffy snapped back to attention in time to hear the end of a comment about how awful his high school was. You have no idea, kid, she scoffed.

"You're not, you know, married or anything, are you?"

Married? Me? Yeah, right. Like that would work out. Closest I even came to an engagement was that thing with Spike. "Uh, no, not me," she managed, with a stilted laugh.

"So, um... I guess, since you don't go to school or anything, you have, like, some free time."

Buffy eyed him warily. "Yeah, I do," she agreed, cautiously. And it's not even a lie, sort of. I just spend most of it slaying demons. Or sleeping with them - like he'd believe me if I told him that.

"Oh. Cool. So, um, I guess I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, you know, get together after work some time and, uh, get to know each other." He looked even more nervous; his nodding had escalated to a feverish pace.

Ease up, dude, or you're going to lose your head... Oh. Oh, he didn't just ask what I think he asked, did he? "Uh, what was that? Sorry, I'm a little tired." Please, please, please...

"Uh, I... I wanted to know if you had, um, some free time or something, you know, to get together and, like, get to know each other." 'Nervous' had escalated into full-blown 'panic' by now.

Oh, God, he did. He... this little high school student... oh, God, he's my sister's age! Buffy's mind spiraled around the sheer ludicrousness of the situation, and her mouth spit out her old high school standby: "Oh, no, um, see, I'm sort of seeing somebody." Very suave, Buff. Oh, well, anything to make him stop...

He paused, startled, and for a moment Buffy thought his head was going to rattle right off his neck. "Oh. Oh, well, um, I thought I might have seen you with somebody, but, you know, I wasn't sure, and... Uh, sorry. Have a nice day." He scurried off.

Rat, maybe. Do pigeons scurry? ... Focus, Buffy. Focus. The Slayer pulled off her hat and stuffed it into her coat pocket, running a hand through her hair and grimacing. Note to self: shower when I get home. Again. She left the building without further incident and began the walk home, through the graveyards.

Great answer, Buffy. "Oh, I'm sort of seeing someone." Liar! she berated herself while dusting a fledgling. Am not! piped up her defensive voice. I'm seeing Spike. Sort of. Sleeping with him, anyhow. That counts for something, right? That thought made her burst out in laughter, and she tripped over a headstone. Very nice, Slayer. Come on, up we go. There's a girl. Now, dust the poor little vamp who doesn't know better than to run when he has the chance. And no more thoughts of Spike. They're distracting you from your calling. She refused to let that fact trouble her. She was the Slayer, after all. Just wait until Dawn hears about this...