[ Immediately, as he grows more comfortable with her appearance, she grows—well, less. Buffy raises a hand between them, putting this whole damn train on pause for a moment. It takes her a beat longer to find the words she wants to ask, breathy and hesitant. ]
You … You know me?
[ And then straight onto the offensive. ]
How do you know about Slayers? How do you know about me?
no subject
You … You know me?
[ And then straight onto the offensive. ]
How do you know about Slayers? How do you know about me?