action + joint post ✪ out of some sentimental gain -- i wanted you to feel my pain

[herotypical]

[ buffy and spike have been out a-missioning -- only it hasn't gone quite as...merrily as they might have hoped. you see, they’re back a little early. spike decided to make an escape attempt and, in doing so, he’s brought malnosso justice down on both their heads. it’s all terribly unfair.

their punishment? one doozy of a bodyswap. spike is buffy and buffy is spike. and neither of them are too pleased about it.

sartre once claimed that 'hell is other people'; however, a situation like this makes a convincing argument that hell is, in fact, being other people. after they argue their way out of a proverbial wet paper bag and manage to find better clothing than the new feather garb they're initially given, they'll be available (throughout the next few days) to be mocked or sympathized with or awkwardly avoided all around town, depending on the individual.

find top comments below for either buffy's thread or spike's thread or -- if you’re looking for a thread with both of them -- buffy and spike. buffy’s tags will come from deadhero and spike’s tags will come from heroatypical. please don’t hesitate to tag all three options if that’ll float your boat. ]

Comments

[greenjacketed]

...What a face. His head tilted as he observed it.

Sharpe didn't even know what a cosmopolitan was. But: "All I want is a measure of brandy, lass."

[heroatypical]

"I want to be able to reach things on higher shelves without a step ladder. Not about to bloody happen, is it?"

This 'girl' was not budging.

[greenjacketed]

Confused: "...D'you want a hand with any reaching, eh?"

[heroatypical]

To hell with it. He was going to be Buffy and put this creepy stalker guy in his place. "That's all I am to you, aren't I? I don't get bloody paid for this, you know. All of this? Done from the goodness of my sodding heart. No, I don't need help reaching. I appreciate you finally manning up to talk to me, though. Well done."

1/2

[greenjacketed]

...God. She had a tongue on her like Maggie Joyce, the Gin Queen of Saint Giles.

2/2

[greenjacketed]

"Somehow? I expected you to be far sweeter. Merciful, like."

That's all Sparrow had to say about the woman. Mercy and goodness and light. The Slayer might as well have been an angel.

[heroatypical]

"Yeah? Well try me when I'm on duty."

[greenjacketed]

"What? Am I meant to just serve myself then? I heard you didn't like that..."

Eh. There's some other barkeep around but he doesn't want to talk to the man.

[heroatypical]

"Bloody hell. And you wonder why you can't get a woman to shag you? Go. Make your own bloody drink. Or wait for a bartender actually on duty."

[greenjacketed]

"Oi. I'll have you know that the lady-folk a--"

Oh Christ. How did he end up defending his love life to Sparrow's bit? That's just -- no. That's wrong. Sharpe took in a deep breath. Time to start again. "Look. Lo--lass. Are you feelin' fine? Should I call Jack up? You're acting strange and I'd offer to escort you home myself, but..."

Some other man's woman, y'see.

[heroatypical]

"Jack? Hell no. I can take care of myself. I don't need a sodding escort. I wager I could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

[greenjacketed]

"I've been told much the same, Miss. And I suppose I'm not looking to have any part of me kicked. Though I suppose this explains a lot..."

[heroatypical]

"... explains what?"

[greenjacketed]

"You and the Captain."

Rough company flocks to rough company.

[heroatypical]

"... oh, don't you even." He gave Sharpe a very sharp look that suggested it would be hazardous for his health to continue that line of conversation.

[greenjacketed]

"...Still haven't forgiven him, have you? That's cold, lass. The man was a wreck when I last saw him. Should've smelt the foul moonshine he was chugging."

[heroatypical]

"I've smelt enough of him already, thanks."

[greenjacketed]

"That's it, then? The two of you are all undone? With just a teensy little spat over souls?"

Sharpe should probably shut up soon.

[heroatypical]

Oh. This was interesting. Souls?

"What did he say?"

[greenjacketed]

Oh. Now the lady wanted to chat, eh? Sharpe lifted his chin. He was normally a very chivalrous kind of man but -- in general -- people got out of him what they put in.

So, now that he had Buffy's attention: "It's a bit of a tale, miss. And I'm mighty parched."

[heroatypical]

"Bloody hell." He couldn't resist. Not information like this. He got to his feet. "Fine. What's your pleasure?"

[greenjacketed]

...Victory.

"Brandy'll do. Much obliged."

[heroatypical]

Spike made his way around the bar. It took him a bit longer than it should to find the brandy, but once he did, he turned around and filled a glass. Half full.

"Start talking."

[greenjacketed]

Half-full? Well enough. Sharpe only intended to nurse the drink, anyway. You just didn't get blind drunk amongst people you couldn't necessarily trust. So he took a short drink and allowed the burn to settle on his tongue before saying a single word.

Then -- eventually -- and fully aware that (for once) he had the reins of a conversation: "The man made a bad call, lass. And -- certan enough -- he said that souls were a serious business for you but...all he rightly wants is your forgiveness. And you'd better give it quick before he goes a-changing on you."

The pirate had seemed so...desperate, that day on the steps.

[heroatypical]

"You know." He leaned forward, adding a bit more to the glass. "Jack never bothered telling me the full story. Thought maybe I couldn't handle it, right? Did he tell you?"

Because Spike really really wanted to know. Suddenly he was willing to play the role of demure barmaid if it got him what he wanted.