Rating: PG-13 for language
Concrit: Please, in Comments
Disclaimer: They aren’t mine, not yet, but they will be… once I’ve taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha!
Note: Written for a prompt at Open on Sunday – wet – but not posted there because more than 100 words.
Note: S3, just after Bad Girls.
Word Count: 141
Buffy had thrown her little hissy fit in a coat that looked like it had come out of the Queen Mum's closet, as if the miss goody-two-shoes act could change anything. Not that there was anything to change, or nothing important anyway. What was one more missing person case in Sunnydale?
After Buffy had taken her royal pain-in-the-ass out of there, Faith had wiped her hands on her pants.
A minute later she'd grabbed a towel out of the bathroom. She wiped her hands dry three times in less than ten minutes and they still felt wet. When she found herself going for the towel a fourth time, Faith threw it at the bed and grabbed her coat in passing as she fled through the door. The towel, stark red against the covers, had looked too much like fresh blood pooling.