“I’m unclear on one point,” Giles said as he strode around the table to seat himself across from Buffy. “The vampire you faced was reported to be a fearsome foe. How did you best him so quickly?”
The gang was settling in for a post-slayage confab. That had become a thing.
Buffy would’ve preferred to just head home. I need to make this snappy. Mom’s gonna miss me soon, if she hasn’t already. “Well, y’know, he did his thing and I did mine.”
As usual, Giles displayed all the emotional range of Keanu Reeves, plus a quirked eyebrow. Never a good sign.
“So, he attempted to kill you and you critiqued his wardrobe?”
“No,” Buffy replied with a smirk. “But close.” The clueless act really worked for her, so she laid it on thick. “Fork guy raked his claw along the wall—the way bad guys with pointy, pokey metal things instead of hands always do.” Careful to be discreet, she pulled a can of hair spray from the bag in the chair beside her. “It’s practically a horror movie staple. I heard him coming a mile off.”
No one, not even Willow who was seated right next to her, noticed the lighter Buffy slipped from her pocket. “So I damseled it up, ’cause, y’know, that’s what he’d expect.” This is so Saint Emo’s Fire. I should be ashamed. Careful to point the spray in a safeish direction, she produced a quick poof of flame. “You’d be amazed how the ‘fearsome’ rubs right off a vamp with a little conflagration.” She dropped the can back into her bag, pocketed her lighter and shrugged. “I put him out, tied him up and dragged him with.” And I didn’t ‘hone’ once.
Reducing Giles to a simple, “Oh,” was so worth the hassle.