Melts shit, y'know? It's like acid or whatever. My house is already pretty shitty, I don't need to make it worse. [She looks at the bandage and gives a pained smile. She appreciates it.

It hurts, the injury, her pride, but the emotional sting of seeing that again hurts more. It's like she hasn't changed at all, she's still rewriting things so Buffy's the bad guy. But Buffy's rewriting things too. Like how she never told anyone that you were in prison because you chose to be, and not because the police of all fucking things shackled you down.

It's not fair for her to be even thinking this. They're not her. She can recognize that.

So she blinks at Tara's statement, a few seconds delayed by the whirlwind of jealousy in her mind.]

Well. You know. Trench hallucination, I guess? Some kind of demon I couldn't fight.