[ There's a blonde on the screen. She's got her long, curly hair pulled over one shoulder and she's leaning in a little on her elbows. She waves at the screen. ] So, this is definitely not a book review. In fact, I'm sort of wondering what I'm going to do my vlogs over if it's not books. Maybe I'll just talk about them in a general sense. Books are good. Portable magic. Yadda yadda. it's not the same, is it? [ She sighs dramatically. ] Aslan and I are at the book store, in our proper bodies. Come see us at Subtext and have an iced coffee. Gracie out.
For those that take Gracie up on her offer of books and iced coffee, they'll find her curled up in a big, squishy armchair near the front of the shop. She's reading a book and has an iced coffee at hand. There's a grey and white Scottish Fold cat dozing in the front window. She'd had a fun few days in Dani's body, zipping around, running into things and generally making a pest of herself, but she's grateful to be in her own body again.
When the bell over the door rings out, Gracie looks up with a smile on her face. "Hey, have a look around and if I can help you with anything, let me know."
Unless, of course, she knows you, then she'll be out of her chair, coffee abandoned on an end table to dole out hugs.
[Action + Network]
Two seconds earlier, Buffy had been walking toward the room in the Alpha Complex that she didn’t share with anyone. She’d opened the door, stepped through and started to unzip the orange jumpsuit she wore. Two seconds ago she’d been in an underground complex and now...she wasn’t.
Her hand freezes on the zipper of her jumpsuit then falls to her side (it’s only unzipped about an inch).
“Toto...I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she murmurs. She’s pretty sure she’s not in San Francisco either. There are some pretty important landmarks missing, like the bridge, and the beach looks suspiciously more like the one in Sunnydale than in San Francisco. This calls for an exploration, and some damn information. If she were more certain about the population here, she might find something inhuman and evil to beat information out of, but since nothing is jumping out at her to volunteer, she’s going to have to stick to finding things out in a much more polite way.
She really wishes (for the billionth time since being pulled into the Alpha Complex) that she wasn’t wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. She’s pretty sure it doesn’t inspire trust in anyone. She slips her hands into her pockets as she starts to walk and finds the PDA that was definitely not there before. Her brow furrows and she starts poking at buttons, eventually pulling up the network:
Echo one nine, is anyone there? I’m pretty sure I just mixed my military and trucker walkie etiquette, but seriously? Is anyone there?