"Sad and lonely," Buffy prompted as she crossed her legs at the knee and let her bare ankles hang over the edge. She felt his warmth and fancied that she could sense his heartbeat. A pulse. A pace-setter.

She busied her fruit-sticky fingers with something else. Anything else. Retying her loose bun or hair or toying with the thick jade dragon ring she wore around her neck. Even now. Even still.