Ah. Business talk. This was simple. Easier. Or it should be, for as long as she could stop her eyes from wandering and...and damn, it was good to see him. It was always so bittersweetly satisfying to see him kicking, if not actually alive. He could go and come back and go and come back and Buffy was certain that her heart would never quite lost that slight skip in its beat every time she saw him anew.

Because each time, it was like dragging him back from the dead.

"She's...out of time. Literally. We all are. Yanked from it. She told you that part, right?" A sigh -- but not a sad one. It was always a relief to explain this system to those from home. They seemed to understand it better. Even if they coped with it poorly. "When are you...?"

It wasn't an easy question: which you am I talking to; what time are you from; how does my life relate to yours?