"That was supposed to upset you, proving that I was right all along, and he's still in there somewhere," Buffy answered, pouting noticeably on top of the tired look that she carried in her eyes before snatching her hand back. She crossed her arms over her chest as she resumed the ball position that was her security blanket. "What if I just decide that I'm not Buffy anymore? Can I make up a dramatic new name for myself and start doing something evil? Like Staberella the Death Lotus. My new evil plan'll involve making everyone in the world lactose intolerant so nobody can ever enjoy ice cream again." She hugged the couch pillow tighter against her chest. "Except for Mr. Pillow here. He shall be spared my wrath on account of being squishy and comforting and not evil."
She was quiet when he brought up the fight with Ambrose, supposing that she'd asked for it by bringing it up. She wasn't trying to hide their conversation. Ambrose would be able to hear from his room, she was sure, and she didn't intend to hide anything. She wasn't going to acknowledge what he'd said with a response, but she was Buffy. Not Staberella the Death Lotus, and she could not keep her mouth shut.
"Right. Which I can guarantee wouldn't have happened ever if you hadn't cast that stupid sleep spell on me," she shot back from her comfortable, balled-up postition.