[ Generally speaking, Buffy's the kind of person who doesn't start feeling it until she's taken the pour-top off the bartender's tequila and invited herself to kitten poker. When she slides up to a bar with Des or Spike, she's usually just wasting money for no kick. But as she continues to drink Nell's wine, she feels a steady warmth—outside of that which her closeness to Rafael was exclusively responsible for—spreading across her skin (fort 23). ]
You elf-y types don't mess around, do you? [ She glances down into the glass after a couple drinks. Slayer constitution be damned. ]
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You elf-y types don't mess around, do you? [ She glances down into the glass after a couple drinks. Slayer constitution be damned. ]