Odd as it seemed, the doors opening as they did on their own almost made the Slayer less anxious about the visit. She entered with caution, still on alert no matter how she'd promised Ambrose that Lucius wouldn't hurt her. It never hurt to be careful, and she would be damned if she let him slap her again without giving him a good right hook in return. But the dramatic proceedings gave her much more room and comfort in which to snark.
When she wandered into the room where he was seated, Buffy made a show of rolling her eyes at the throne where he was seated as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Well, since you've taken a few pages out of the Blatantly Evil Stereotypes Handbook, I had to make sure I wasn't going to get instantly vaporized by a death ray if I kicked the door down," she replied. "I'm kinda surprised you haven't grown a mustache. I hear mustache twirling is like an Olympic sport for evil masterminds nowadays."