Azula wanted a report by noon tomorrow, but Buffy was mostly done it, there didn't seem to be a whole lot to tell. The whole question of what was going on left only more questions, but she was able to figure out how just about everyone was affected. Since that was done, she didn't have anything to do. No demons to kill, she wasn't a Slayer anymore, just a girl, and nothing to run. Not her concern anymore now that Azula wanted it, and of course, she could have what she wanted.
Buffy had found herself attached to a magazine. One of the really trashy ones that held more useless pieces of information that anything that could be considered useful, but Buffy was interested in the gossip. She was allowed to be interested in that now.
Her own kitchen was out of coffee, which meant she had to track down some in the main one. So she'd gone down the one flight of stairs and headed toward the kitchen, her nose stuck in the magazine. She'd walked right into the room, eyes locked on some article about Brangelina, or whatever the media was calling them. She'd hardly even noticed anyone in the kitchen.
At least until she looked up. And there was Angel.
Or not Angel. Booth, right. Awkward. She glanced at him for a second, half debating leaving. Instead she just nodded and headed to where the coffee was stored.