"Sorry," Cordelia replied from the doorway, her tone as close to light as she could manage given the circumstances, "but we're fresh out of chalkboards. We have a whiteboard, but I think if you write on it, Scout would probably try to beat you with his bat."
Moving into the kitchen, her expression a mixture of sorrow and weariness, she sank down into one of the chairs and sighed. Heavily. "We lost one of our own tonight," she spoke after a moment in a flat tone. Resting her elbow on the table, she propped her chin up against her hand and peered up at him. "In case you haven't heard, what with you trying to take over Angel's old role of the Brood King."