“Pft, you’re still a bean-pole though Junior.” Faith shot back, holding back a smile though her dimples gave her away. Then she picked up a few of Dawn’s bags and gestured with her head for her to follow. She led the way out to the parking lot with sure steps, side-stepping other pedestrians and trading insults almost cheerfully after near collisions. Her Boston accent was stronger than it had been in Sunnydale, but still blended with a strange West coast lilt that cropped up every now and then after years on that side of the country. But most of all she seemed almost at peace, settled in a way no one from back then had ever seen her.
Smirking and liftingup the remainder of her bags - basically all the lighter ones, she couldn’t help but note - Dawn was quick to follow after the shorter woman. Lingering behind Faith, she grinned at the sight of the Slayer acting - well, just as she remembered her to be, basically. After a few years of spending a majority of her time with stuff old watchers in England, the sight was oddly comforting. Only once they passed a majority of airport crowds did she bother catching up, silently thanking her long legs for being able to keep up with Faith’s quick stride. “So – do you have a car, or are we being classic New Yorkers and taking the train?”
[ sms | Dawn ] Her name ain’t Buffy Crocker. [ sms | Dawn ] Good plan. Now I just need to get my gorgeous arse back to your home. [ sms | Dawn ] Your English teacher is dull, by the way.
[ sms | Spike ] Good thing it’s not, because Dawn Crocker… just sounds really weird. [ sms | Spike ] Ugh, tell me about it. At least you don’t have to actually listen to him! [ sms | Spike ] Can you get all the stuff ready for later once you’re home?
