I know you're pissed at me. Nothing new. Got it. Old story. I mean, you screwed my face up. I'd take a picture if it'd make you feel better, but I'm not feeling particularly photogenic at the moment anyway, so you'll have to live without. So. Now that that's out of the way, as I'm about ninety-nine percent certain you'd take the time to make some sort of witty retort about how you punched someone who was mentally unstable in the face, I'm gonna skip straight on over to the "I don't want to argue with you and I don't want to hear your millions of reasons as to why you hate me" speech and move right to the point. Because you know I wouldn't be contacting you if there wasn't some point mixed into all of this.
Faith. You know, one of those fun little Slayers we've got running around? The one I think you might consider a friend? Yeah. She's in trouble. I think you might want to offer her a little assistance on the magic front if you want her to actually survive what's headed her way. I'm not telling you what to do, cause I'm sure, again, you'll have something sarcastic to say about that too. I'm asking you to help her. Because I know that she'd appreciate it a whole hell of a lot if you did. You might have your problems with me and that's fine. I know you wouldn't come to help me if I had two knives at either side of my throat and gun to my back. But if you're gonna hold grudges, make sure that it's all pointed at
me, all right? Faith was just being a friend. Don't let her get hurt over this over something that she did for me.
So there it is. Point out. And it only took me two point five paragraphs to do it. Of course, it was all written in a few sentences, which is less than three times what it took just for me to get to said point, but we all know how much I like words so there we are.