Devil's Nest | Thursday Evening

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Buffy had been aware enough of the events going on this week to know that she shouldn't wear clothes she had any particular attachment to when walking to work today. Sure enough, by the time she made it in she her shirt was torn, her jeans were dirty and there was splatter of what could have been blood drying on her coat. At least her hair still looked okay.

Now she was sitting at the bar, drawing a crude map of the island on a cocktail napkin. She had some patrolling to do later.