"Ex-Watcher," Faith mutters, because there is not one single moment in all of time she'll let anyone forget Wesley left her to rot alone in the dark. Wilkins is a product of Wesley, if you ignore the rest of her problems (which is always nice, having someone else to blame) and having them in the same space fucks with her head. "He bailed. And she can hear you talking, Wes. Probably because she's right freaking here."

Her tone is less barbed than she would like, and the nails she digs into her palm cut the skin open. "Godric, my feet are fine, quit screwing with them."