Unbeknownst to Jack, Buffy had once professed an interest in poetry thanks to a freshman course at UC Sunnydale. Then, Joyce got sick. She had to drop classes and had regretfully explained to the professor of the course that she simply didn't have the time. Well, maybe short poems. But for all Buffy knew, this new addition to her skin could've been anything. It could've been an eggplant -- though that wasn't on her short-list of suspects.

"More." She responded, nearly with a sense of supplication to receive more of his input on her skin. Especially with him so focused on her stomach at the moment. It felt like better healing than her own supernatural talents had accomplished. "Maybe just one...or -- you know. Two small ones." Bargaining? A sure sign of her enjoyment.