She shrugs, swishes the glass around a bit more. She's been here awhile--lurking in the corner, mostly, but some time ago she got tired of the gloom. "Already got one," she answers and takes a sip.

Gwen already knows who Buffy is, and she eyes the girl's hand warily. "Gwen," she answers, and her own gloved hands don't move an inch. "No offense," she explains with a wry smile, eyes flicking from her hand to her face. Even with the gloves, Gwen's not taking any chances. Some wounds are just too fresh. "I try to avoid contact."