Not that he'd necessarily want to - he'd like to have the Niblet around forever :D
“That will not be necessary,” a quiet, deep voice spoke from somewhere on the upper landing at the top of the stairs. He had an accent, but it wasn’t all that strong compared to some of the people she had met earlier.
Looking up at the shadows, the Slayer’s sister grinned. “Good,” she said, though she shifted her weight slightly. Damned Slayers were a bad influence. “Giles would go all English on me if I told him I didn’t deliver them.”
“Ah, so, you are the agent from the Watcher’s Council?” Anyone else would have jumped when the speaker emerged from the darkness just to her left, instead of the shadows above the stairs.
“That’s me,” Dawn turned as if she had expected him all along. “Dawn Summers, delivery girl and agent.”
With a hand on her hip, her stance casual, she looked him up and down. Older guy with long hair? Didn’t see that often. Looked like the rich guys in the old films Buffy used to watch, some kind of gentlemen. Most noticeably, he was taller than she was. That didn’t happen often enough anymore, since she’d hit six feet.
Inclining his head, the man’s lips curled in a welcoming smile “I am the Graf von Krolock,” he murmured. “I expect you are fatigued after your journey, Miss. Are you hungry or in need of refreshment?”
Dawn’s brows rose. “Huh,” she said. It wasn’t often that she was offered anything in her role as the go-for girl. Withdrawing the parcel from under her arm, she held it out to him. “I’m good.” She hesitated, then added, “I could do with something to drink.”
Von Krolock took the bundle from her reverently and she felt his fingertips brush against hers. They were icy-cold, drawing her eyes for a moment, then she looked back up to find his dark eyes on her face.
“Would you accept accommodation also?” he murmured. “I fear it is too late to continue your journey tonight.”
Dawn eyed him suspiciously. “You do know that delivery comes with the guarantee that the delivery-girl doesn’t get eaten, sacrificed, barbecued, shish-kebobed, toasted, exsanguinated or anything gross or death-causing, right?”
He laughed softly, such a simple amused sound that Dawn only stared more. “Have no fear,” he said. “I have no desire to make an enemy of the Watchers Council.”
no subject
“That will not be necessary,” a quiet, deep voice spoke from somewhere on the upper landing at the top of the stairs. He had an accent, but it wasn’t all that strong compared to some of the people she had met earlier.
Looking up at the shadows, the Slayer’s sister grinned. “Good,” she said, though she shifted her weight slightly. Damned Slayers were a bad influence. “Giles would go all English on me if I told him I didn’t deliver them.”
“Ah, so, you are the agent from the Watcher’s Council?” Anyone else would have jumped when the speaker emerged from the darkness just to her left, instead of the shadows above the stairs.
“That’s me,” Dawn turned as if she had expected him all along. “Dawn Summers, delivery girl and agent.”
With a hand on her hip, her stance casual, she looked him up and down. Older guy with long hair? Didn’t see that often. Looked like the rich guys in the old films Buffy used to watch, some kind of gentlemen. Most noticeably, he was taller than she was. That didn’t happen often enough anymore, since she’d hit six feet.
Inclining his head, the man’s lips curled in a welcoming smile “I am the Graf von Krolock,” he murmured. “I expect you are fatigued after your journey, Miss. Are you hungry or in need of refreshment?”
Dawn’s brows rose. “Huh,” she said. It wasn’t often that she was offered anything in her role as the go-for girl. Withdrawing the parcel from under her arm, she held it out to him. “I’m good.” She hesitated, then added, “I could do with something to drink.”
Von Krolock took the bundle from her reverently and she felt his fingertips brush against hers. They were icy-cold, drawing her eyes for a moment, then she looked back up to find his dark eyes on her face.
“Would you accept accommodation also?” he murmured. “I fear it is too late to continue your journey tonight.”
Dawn eyed him suspiciously. “You do know that delivery comes with the guarantee that the delivery-girl doesn’t get eaten, sacrificed, barbecued, shish-kebobed, toasted, exsanguinated or anything gross or death-causing, right?”
He laughed softly, such a simple amused sound that Dawn only stared more. “Have no fear,” he said. “I have no desire to make an enemy of the Watchers Council.”