Buffy refrained from throwing up her hands and saying 'Finally!' or something along those lines. She'd wanted him to be ready to talk to her, just like he'd waited for her. He hadn't tried to compel her or threaten her, and she'd wanted to do the same no matter how much it made her nearly want to rip her own hair out.
"Are you gonna tell me you're the Slayer too now?" she tried to joke as she walked over to take a seat on the couch. They were in much the same position they'd been that night. He was in his chair, she was seated on the couch. "Sorry. I compensate with humor sometimes. You can probably tell."