milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Here is what you need to know about Ava:

+ She's a brunette.

+ She kills people for fun and profit.

+ She has taken two showers today to diminish the potential lingering eau de hell, although she figures she's got to smell primarily of dusty files at the end of a long day at the office.

+ She's sitting on a couch in her sweats and purple sweater, clown nose necklace in evidence, and leafing with interest through a dusty and sinister-looking tome on demonology (next to a Feb/Mar 2008 issue of Cosmo).

[ooc: paper-writing and therefore slow-- spring break is just around the corner though!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It is, as it happens, a copy of The Formicarius from a universe or two over.

This one doesn't skimp on the gory details.

"It's not bad," Ava says, politely. She makes a face. "But it's soooo dense. My God, I wish Milliways would translate this into understandable English. What was your ancient text?"

"Oh, just -- journals. Nothing as exciting as..."

She eyes Ava's book.

"...I...don't actually know what this is, but it looks impressive. What're you doing?"

"A little self-defense reading," Ava replies cheerily.

"I mean-- you said way back when that vampires were demons? I figure, we've got a huge supernatural library upstairs that I now semi-officially work for, I should try and read up on the things that could come here and try to eat me."

"Not a bad plan."

Speaking of eating. Buffy snags a nacho. "Ooh hey, your Cosmo's from the same month, but it's got all different articles!" She squints. "'The Man Your Man Could Smell Like.'"

"--Different articles?"

Ava blinks, leafing to page 57.

And drops the magazine, startled, as a projection of light, roughly screen-shaped and generously screen-sized, appears over the fallen full-page Old Spice spread.

"Hello, ladies, the screen declares (or, more specifically, the well-built betoweled man on the screen). "Look at your man. Now back to me-- now back at your man-- now back to me!"

"Dude," Ava says, wrinkling her nose and shooting Buffy a sideways glance, "they did not have these when I was last home."

Buffy is looking at the man her man could smell like.

(They're on boat.)

"Me neither," she says dreamily.

It's possible she's referring to his arms, and not the fact of a hologram-projection ad.

"Look again-- the tickets are now diamonds!"

Ava is mildly mesmerized.

"This is so weird," she murmurs.

"...when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I'm on a horse."

"Uh huh," Buffy murmurs, still gazing at the man her man could smell like. "Totally."

The screen fades to black, then disappears.

Ava stares down at the ad.

Since when do they advertise for Old Spice in Cosmo ...?

"Uh," Ava says, eyes widening slowly.

"Buffy?"

"I completely agree." Buffy is still distracted.

She reaches for a nacho.

And looks down. And blinks.

"Ava?"

"Umm."

Ava's eyes are approaching dangerously saucerlike proportions.

"Your ... your nachos."

"...are now diamonds."

Buffy leans forward.

Wondering: "The beans aren't."

Ava scoops up some of the diamond-nachos in her fingers.

Preeeeetty.

"Maybe," she says, distracted, "it has to be things with ... two syllables? Tickets? Nachos?"

"The cheese isn't." That supports Ava's theory, too.

Buffy prods a diamond with the tip of her finger.

"...The lettuce isn't either."

It's not like it makes any more sense for only bisyllabically named food items to turn into diamonds because of an ad for bodywash.

"Can I have some?" Ava asks dreamily.

"Lettuce?"

There are so many loops Buffy is thrown for.

"... Diamonds," Ava clarifies.

She frowns.

"Do you think they'll turn back into nachos? Like if we play the commercial backwards?"

"Oh. Right."

Buffy waves one hand in a gesture intended to communicate that Ava is welcome to diamonds, but she's kind of distracted, so might communicate any number of things. "I don't know! Should we try it? But -- they're diamonds."

But she's hungry.

"--Let's order more nachos and save the diamonds for later."

Ava is a brilliant strategist!

This is why Buffy is the muscle.

"Let's!"

She nudges the diamonds again. "Maybe they're fake diamonds. Or -- or maybe they turn back into nachos by sunset on the third day."

Ava blinks.

"Like ... Jesus?"

"I'm fairly sure Jesus never turned into nachos," Buffy says, after a moment's pause. "If he did I'm going to have to rethink a lot of things. But I was thinking mermaid. Comma, the little."

"Oh!" Ava says.

"Uhhh. Right. Well."

She glances down to the diamonds in her hands.

"I guess we'll ... find out."

Buffy's still deep in thought.

"Was The Little Mermaid about Jesus?"

Ava blinks.

"... Maybe!" she decides.

"Ursula could be the Devil, and the crab could be, ummm. Peter?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only