McCoy stiffened at the mention of magical healing instead of the good old twenty-third century medicine which could cure cancer and run laps around her timeline’s medicine. He sat down opposite Buffy with an expression of annoyance as he placed the set in the middle of the table and crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair that did not match the set, glancing at the side.

"Not magic." He grumbled at her. His tone could almost be described as petulant, but despite his stubbornness about magic and how everyone seemed to flock to that alternative, he did have to reluctantly add considering his arm was no longer in a sling thanks to Raine: "Maybe some of it isn't that bad, but it's not the answer."

Hell may have started to freeze over, but house seven remained comfortable.