[ location: bronte beach ] let that igloo cooler mark your piece of paradise.

[theextras.livejournal.com]

Word has it, Taxon, that there's going to be a party. These rumors are not untrue, for one slaying has arranged something of a get together for the Fourth of July. Unfortunately, the Extras have caught wind of this soirée and are already in the presence of crashing it, rocking those holey jeans and chilling with some Lynyrd Skynyrd and good ol' Hank Williams. This is their kind of party.

Don't let them have all the fun. The sun is getting low, so get on out here and get your party on before fireworks start lighting up the faux night sky.

Comments

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

She ignored the Martha Stewart question in favour of some self-indulgent griping.

"Oh, how supportive. The undead guy can cook better than me. You know, it's not like I had a whole lot of time to learn how to inspire domestic bliss."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"You were never suited to it," tumbles out of his mouth before he can better phrase that. One of his classic panicked looks when he flubs words crosses his face as he tries to correct himself. "W-what I mean is, you're not the kind of person meant for that sort of boring, stay-at-home lifestyle. You were meant for greater things than homemade pancakes. Which is why there's mixes, so you can still have your pancakes and slay, too?"

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

Oh.

She breaths deeply. The hot, iron-heavy reaction to such a flub is hard to suppress; never suited to it sounds a lot like can't cut it. And Buffy is a woman who prides herself on being competent. But you can't be competent at everything and the Slayer often found herself flexing other muscles.

But then Angel corrects himself and her shoulders relax. "You can be kinda stunningly pep-talkish when you wanna be, Angel."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"So I've been told." For a guy who was often the least verbose person in a room at any given time, he was sure handy with words when he wanted to be.

Angel finally opens the top to his soda and takes a small sip. The face he makes after is difficult to pinpoint, and he eyes the can almost warily. "That was... That was not what I was expecting. Very... bubbly? And really sweet."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

She tries for a friendly smile.

"You should try it with ice cream. Root beer float. Kinda fab."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

Ice cream. Angel's expression falls. He remembers, vividly, eating ice cream with her the first time he was gifted with humanity. She didn't and never would, and he has to blink and look away from her to get the image of her only wearing his shirt and holding out a spoonful of ice cream for him out of his head.

"Uh, yeah. I've heard good-- good things about ice cream."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

Oblivious, Buffy chugs another decent amount of soda and takes a casual seat on the closed lid of the cooler.

"Well, duh. Anyone who'd tell you anything otherwise about the stuff deserves to have their taste-buds burned off and then replaced with newer, better, cleverer taste buds. You know -- someone might've thought to bring some down for the bash. If I find some? We are floating it up."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"It tasted like sawdust when I was dead," he offers, lamely. What should be simple conversation is extremely awkward on his end. "Then again, everything not blood tasted like sawdust when I was a vampire."

Half paying attention to her and half paying attention to his own thoughts, he catches the tail end of her words and misinterprets. "Floating. Like, in the water floating? I don't swim."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

"Root beer floating. Sawdust free." She corrects him -- gently. Swimming would genuinely be a bad idea. The last time swimming had been involved...

Well, now it's Buffy's turn to feel awkward.

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

The last time swimming had been involved, they'd been running for their lives and ended up back at his place. It's hard not to connect those dots to that night that changed everything, the one that had first rendered him soulless and set Angelus free. It's even harder not to connect the dots further to the day he was human and the time they got to spend together, or the constant reminder of his current human state without the risk of soullessness and what that meant once and could mean again. There were a lot of unresolved things between himself and Buffy, things they never discussed, topics that were easier to avoid than deal with out of fear that the conversation would get heated or spark something new out of something old.

"The sun's hot," he says, pulling himself out of his thoughts and squinting up at the faux star in the taxon sky. In hindsight, black on black and longsleeves, for that matter, were a bad idea. As was the lack of sunscreen. Someone's super pale ass is going to be red in the morning.

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

"...That's what happens when you have a working body temp and you go out on a nice day, Angel."

By comparison, Buffy is her usual lightly bronzed self. The moment the sun had reappeared in force, she had sought to regain her California stamp. "You're gonna get heat stroke if you're not careful."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

Without giving it much thought, Angel grabs the hem of the long sleeved black shirt and pulls it over his head. He tosses it aside in a pile of discarded clothing and shoes that probably belong to Extras, but it matters not. He's got plenty of identical shirts back at the hotel, and can always hatch more. And he already feels less like he's roasting inside his own clothing without it.

"There. More beach-worthy, don't you think?"

later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

She begins initially by averting her gaze -- troubling herself with twisting the tab off the top of the soda can. Easily wrenching it free and warping the metal like it were something much, much more warpable. She can see skin from the corner of her sight and it is, of course, a very familiar thing to see indeed. Old-time familiar.

When she finally looks up, it is with a controlled and blank expression. Betraying little else except her supreme desire not to betray anything.

"...D-definitely. Very, very beachy. The beachiest. In fact, I'm pretty certain that if a contest of beachism were to the held..." she trails off. This is stupid.

Buffy clears her throat. "You're gonna burn."

later on when this fire is an ember;

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"I won't catch on fire," the former vampire replies, misunderstanding her meaning. It's been a long, long time since a sunburn was a threat.

Re: later on when this fire is an ember;

[herotypical]

"No," she laughed -- laughing with Angel had become a rather customary thing since her arrival in town. They were close, now. Close in a different kind of way than they'd ever been before. "But you'll feel like you have, tomorrow morning."