"A shade!" Uther gasped at the malevolent presence in tweed.
The man paused, removed his spectacles and began polishing them on the strange scarf that hung around his neck.
"A shade?" his doppelganger said. "Yes, I suppose that should do. Or what I would look like with another twenty years of dissolute living."
"Whoa, G-Man, better cut down on those donuts now if you don't want to look like that!"
"Yes, thank you Xander," the shade, also known as the G-Man said wearily.
The young man, Xander, stepped out from behind a curtain. For all that he seemed gangly and uncouth, he carried the battle-axe with an ease that came only with hard practice.
"Giles, I told you, no more places without indoor plumbing. It was bad enough in London when my curling iron fried the outlet!"
Uther spun around at the voice and the distinctive sound of a corpulent body hitting the flagstone. A tiny, golden haired women jumped lightly over the guard she had plainly just bested and strode toward him. She was dressed in scandalous clothing and balanced on shoes that seemed constructed on stilettos. She was idly twirling a claymore surely heavier than her own weight.
"Yes, Buffy, and how many times did I explain about the 220v outlets?"
The women eyed him like some insect found wanting. It was very uncomfortable. She sniffed her disapproval as the claymore cut the air, stirring the hair on his head.
"As soon as we get back, no more sugar in your tea, Giles. This other you looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Except without the cute finger in the belly and the frosting, or the pop n fresh biscuits..."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2010-05-21 03:48 am (UTC)The man paused, removed his spectacles and began polishing them on the strange scarf that hung around his neck.
"A shade?" his doppelganger said. "Yes, I suppose that should do. Or what I would look like with another twenty years of dissolute living."
"Whoa, G-Man, better cut down on those donuts now if you don't want to look like that!"
"Yes, thank you Xander," the shade, also known as the G-Man said wearily.
The young man, Xander, stepped out from behind a curtain. For all that he seemed gangly and uncouth, he carried the battle-axe with an ease that came only with hard practice.
"Giles, I told you, no more places without indoor plumbing. It was bad enough in London when my curling iron fried the outlet!"
Uther spun around at the voice and the distinctive sound of a corpulent body hitting the flagstone. A tiny, golden haired women jumped lightly over the guard she had plainly just bested and strode toward him. She was dressed in scandalous clothing and balanced on shoes that seemed constructed on stilettos. She was idly twirling a claymore surely heavier than her own weight.
"Yes, Buffy, and how many times did I explain about the 220v outlets?"
The women eyed him like some insect found wanting. It was very uncomfortable. She sniffed her disapproval as the claymore cut the air, stirring the hair on his head.
"As soon as we get back, no more sugar in your tea, Giles. This other you looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Except without the cute finger in the belly and the frosting, or the pop n fresh biscuits..."
"Yes, thank you, Buffy!" Giles interrupted.