Willow looked around curiously, the stress from her brief meeting with the slayer slowly dissipating.
At the familiar ring, Faith dropped her cigarette onto the ground, crushing it into the sidewalk. Pulling out her phone, she answered it in her usual blunt manner. "Whaddya want?"
"Is that any way to speak with your wonderful Watcher?" Gwen asked cheerfully, her words just barely understandable, causing Faith to frown.
Faith grunted, not bothering to dignify the question with an answer.
"Guess what I've got," she asked. "Guess."
Faith could hear paper being crumpled up. "Gwen..." she said. "Spill it."
"Not until you guess."
"Call me back when you're straight," Faith said, not in the mood to deal with a high Watcher.
"I'm straighter than you!" Gwen said, giggling.
"You have five seconds," Faith told her.
"Wait!" Gwen mumbled. "This is good."
"It better be," Faith said, standing up.
"There's a prophecy." Gwen told her, giggling again.
"There's always a prophecy, Gwen." Faith told her. "It's in the job description."
"This one's special." Gwen said.
"Aren't they all." Faith muttered, walking in the direction that Rosenberg had gone earlier.
"It's about your little broken cheerleader."
"Cheerleader?"Faith asked. Cheerleaders could be fun, in fact there was one she knew in LA who could bend in ways that even a slayer found difficult, but none of them matched Gwen's brief description.
"Bunny? Muffy? Buffy... Buffy Summers," Gwen said. "She was a cheerleader. Fell off a pyramid."
"There was a prophecy about her falling off a pyramid?" Faith snorted in amusement. "Are you sure you aren't reading this off the back of a bottle?"
"Rupert does have the best Scotch," Gwen said. "But that's not where he found it," she protested.
"Maybe you should put dear old Rupes on the phone," Faith said, finally noticing a male voice in the background singing drunkenly.
"He's busy." Gwen said, her words slurring together. "He's got a lovely voice."
"Gwen, I don't have all day." Faith grumbled.
"Oh, yes. Right. The prophecy."
Faith could hear papers rustling along with the sound of something being poured into a glass.
[insert prophecy here]
Like most magic users who'd dabbled heavily in the Dark Arts, Rosenberg had a very distinctive magical signature, something Faith had been trained from an early age to detect. Stopping in front of a small hole-in-the-wall diner several blocks from the museum, Faith could feel signs of her presence.
[Faith joins the 'Ladies Who Lunch']
