a new world hangs outside the window
beautiful and strange
it must be I've fallen awake
I must be

The soothing sounds of the ocean or the rain forest, or whatever it was that was coming through gently on the overhead speakers did little to settle the adrenaline coursing through the dark hunter's veins. Neither did the waterfall fixture behind the grand mahogany desk in the sitting room, or the strong smell of incense and essential oils in the air. Despite the charming and unique retrofit of the old train station-turned country club, it still felt very much like a generic spa to Buffy. Not like she really knew what a "generic spa" should feel like. She'd never had a professional massage in her life, like alone a facial or a wax, or whatever else. But Jane Smith or whatever the employee called her when she checked in under this ruse, of course was an apparent frequent flyer here. And as such, she was ready to play the role.

She tapped her finger tips against the dark wood side table next to her while she sat cross legged, stiff and ready to pounce, in the plush chair. She hadn't noticed the man's accent before at the desk, the one in the suit and the hat, but as he pressed her further for small talk, she noted the English tones. She watched him suspiciously as he dipped his head and removed his hat. "Hello." She said softly, in a voice and tone that was quite far from her own. She cocked her head to one side, rolling her eyes as she did so, in a poor attempt to look posh and bored at the same time, as she imagined all rich white women did. But on the inside, her heart was pounding. The night was young, and there was a good chance that the remaining vampires she didn't manage to extinguish could whip open that front door right now and come in after her. And if not the vampires themselves, then the shifter cronies that made up their security team. She needed to get out of the northside of town as soon as possible.

"I'm J-jaaaaane." She said, stretching it out apprehensively as she tried to remember the name the associate at the desk addressed her by. "Smith." She added quickly at the end. Buffy feigned a smile when he asks about her dress. It hardly appeared to be in cocktail condition anymore. The slit, which was supposed to reach mid-thigh had ripped, the tattered, fraying seam reaching almost as high as her hip now. The bottom inches of the dress were coated in mud and the fabric was soaking wet. So were her feet, which bulged with toes coated in sloppy, chipped nail polish, from the strappy shoes. Her knotted hair, having long lost the gentle curls she tried so desperately to fasten in place with hair spray hours earlier, may have even had a leaf or two embedded in it. Those came most likely from when she was forced to scale the 10-foot stone wall of the mansion during the pursuit.

"Oh, this old thing." She said, placing her hands over her lap where the frayed seam continued to give way. "I was at a small charity gala at an acquaintance's home. You know, what a drag those things can be," she said flippantly, with another roll of her eyes and sharp flick of her wrist for dramatic emphasis. "But it's for a good cause, of course." She said, watching his face as this William seemed eager for more. Her mind raced to keep filling in the details of this half-baked fib she was crafting. "Obesity. Childhood obesity. Quite serious in the southside of town, as I'm sure you know."

Her dark eyes flicked to the door again and back to William in quick succession. Her fake smirk widened into a toothy grin as their conversation droned on. "And you? You look... er... quite dapper yourself. A night out on the town?"

GIA BUFFY JONES