I wanted an egg and sausage sandwich for brekkie.
THERE ARE NO EGGS IN THE HOUSE!
It’s hardly Darfur, is it?
Spike: You listen to me. I’ve been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker; I follow my blood, which does not always rush in the direction of my head. So I’ve made a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You. Look at me. I’m not asking you for anything. When I tell you that I love you, it’s not because I want you, or ‘cause I can’t have you, it has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try… I’ve seen your strength, and your kindness, I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.
Buffy: I don’t… I don’t want to be the one.
Spike: I don’t want to be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear.
I’d bear your cross, Spike!
Um, that doesn’t even make sense. Still, I would.
… did I read Breaking Dawn? I will never get those hours of my life back. It feels now like I’m being punished for my folly by intense insomnia - Nature is claiming her hours back.
Well played, Universe.
Insomnia is new to me.
I don’t have any perfected tricks to while away the hours yet.
Is this what the world is like for babies? Everything new, but not entirely good?
Perhaps I can cultivate a wholly different night-time persona - suave, learned, somewhat bleary-eyed…