"That's when that realization kicks in, huh?" Xander leaned back in his chair, twisting the plastic spoon into his ice cream. "Job. Money. Makes it all official: you're stuck in Crazyville, Kansas. Population? A buncha people, a handful of monsters, and an ice cream shop filled with hard-working employees who will sing." Xander looked over at one of the people being the counter at that, who clearly managed to overhear the stressed "will sing" part of his statement. An affronted look found the employee. Oh, he knew. He knew what was coming. Xander was pretty sure that everyone that worked here dreaded the moment in which they had to start belting out all of these practiced, showsy tunes, but he didn't care. That was part of the appeal, wasn't it? Besides, the tip would help. They'd go home a dollar richer tonight. Looking mildly amused, Xander took another bite out of his sundae. There was just something incredibly satisfying about having a bowl of ice cream in one hand and an evil scheme in the other.
"It's the best ice cream I've found since getting here, I'll give the place that," he commented, "and trust me, I've looked. Me and Willow - a friend from home - used to do this thing in high school where we'd go out and get ice cream every Friday night. Always went to this little place not too far from The Bronze. Had the best banana split in the world." High school. Sunnydale. It all seemed like ages ago, didn't it?
"How's the job thing working out for you, anyway?" It definitely wasn't her run in the vigilante that she was probably more accustomed to, but he figured that there had to be some form of excitement that came with working the traditional nine to five. Like an extra nap during the day when business was slow, maybe? He didn't know. He couldn't take naps where he worked - you kinda had to stay awake to build things on construction sites. Constant building, all day long. There really wasn't room for much of anything else. Except lunch. Ah, his favorite part of the day.