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She flopped down on her bed, looking up at the paint peeling on the ceiling. “Nothing like luxury.”

Giles lay his bag on his bed, back turned towards her. “You know that our funds are limited. I’m sure this is the best she could do. We’ll finish the assignment and move on.”

Faith propped herself up on one elbow. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve stayed in a lot worse. But you think Queen B could have at least sprung for two rooms.”

“As I said, our funds...”

“Yeah, yeah,” she interrupted. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with putting us on the low end of the totem pole. Nothing to do with never forgiving us for the girls picking me over her and your little deal with Robin.”

“That’s enough.” He pulled the neatly folded pajamas from his bag. “This is our situation and we shall make the best of it.”

Faith smiled, rising from her bed. “Well, if you want to make the best of it...” She stripped off her tank top. When Giles turned around she was standing in her black sports bra.

“That’s not what I mean, as you know full well. This is highly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, because I love being appropriate.” Faith took a step towards him. “I know what you want, G. I’ve seen how you look at me when you think nobody’s looking.”

“Faith...” he cautioned.

“Unless you like being Buffy’s little neutered lap dog...”

His fingers were buried in her hair, pulling back her head. His lips crushed hers angrily, hungrily. When she responded, he pulled away, suddenly. He stared at her, his eyes heavy with lust? Self-disgust? She wasn’t sure. Probably both.

She moved towards him. “I’m no angel, G.” When she started to undo the buttons on his shirt, he didn’t stop her. “And neither are you.”