"Sunnydale. Welcome to the home of the hell mouth."
He grins, moving through the place as if he owns it which, technically, he does. There's not much detail, no drafts of cleverly laid plans or knick-knacks. He hasn't been here in a couple of years. It gets fussy at the edges. The bed is still here though and he opts for that, sitting down heavily on the edge and reaching out for the bottle — not Jack. Well. Not deliberately.