"It was my first attempt, so it turned out a bit too subtle," she says, idly skating her fingertips over the fabric of his shirt. First attempts aren't supposed to go smoothly, in her general experience, so it's not a particularly shameful admission. Besides, the fact that she can make a functioning ward at all is a thrilling novelty that won't be wearing out its welcome anytime soon.

Plus, the other reason for fixing it isn't even her fault. "And the picture that got sent out was a bit sloppy, so there are a few little corrections I need to make."

At the moment, though, it doesn't seem too pressing. It's nice and comfortable here, a window of calm between the anxiety their fight had spawned and the probably inevitable 'hey stupid what in the hell are you doing acquiring ANY boyfriend, let alone a vampire lite one' mental backlash. And maybe Spike doesn't have a pulse (which is more noticeable than you might think), but he still breathes normally, and her eyes drift shut to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"But I'm gonna nap first," she informs him with drowsy dignity. "A power nap. Wake me up in like… twenty minutes. Thirty, tops."