Owner	Pose
Buffy Summers	It's early evening, the sun has just set and..Oh look, Buffy's back at her favorite hangout again - the cemetary of course. Because she's such a goth girl! Well at least she actually fits in this time, dressed in her sexy red leather pants, black tanktop nad black leather jacket. She's clearly looking for trouble, a black utility belt hanging around her hips, carrying all sorts of things like holy water, stakes, her cell phone, etc. Oh yeah, and her trusty beloved tonfa, all geared out in wooden stakes at the tips, although she carries the extra spikes just in case she runs into a demon of another variety. Yup, she's looking for trouble..
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith leans agienst a nearby tree, amusement on his lips. "Here's what I don't get. They know you come here, like all the time. Don't you think they'd void the place? I mean I'm certain that if there was a single Alley that say Batman stalked in Gothem, the muggers and rapists would steer clear, wouldn't you think? It'd be the safest alley in Gothem... So why do they keep coming here?"
Cheetah	Cheetah doesn't know Buffy has no life and wastes her evenings in this cemetery. Well, I mean, it's obvious Buffy has no life but how could anyone guess she has a favorite graveyard? That's just sad. Cheetah doesn't know what a 'tonfa' is either. In fact, until an hour ago she hadn't even used a shovel before. And yet...here we are. From the farthest corner of the boneyard 'someone' is hard at work at the grave of one, Morris Flynn. Flynn, as any true Sunnydale historian can attest, ran a magic shop in town for close to forty years. Card tricks, collapsible top hats, trick mirrors: Morris was your man. What most of those historians don't know is that Morris was an actual, honest and true, warlock of some renown. When he was laid to rest, a magical tchotchke of some power was buried with him. Easy pickings? As it turns out standing in a rather large hole that is quite a few feet into the ground and working a shovel helps to muffle the sounds of people talking. Who knew? Come to Mama, magical dohickey!
Buffy Summers	Buffy Summers grins and shrugs, "what can I say? Vamps..At least most vamps, are not very smart. Besides, cemetaries are where they're 'born'. So it's a natural breeding ground for vamps. I really should check out that other place where they were creating a vamp army, but.." she sighs, glancing around, "I suppose it's all connected somehow..Just need to find the missing piece and...Hmm.." Eyes narrow, pausing a moment as she hears the sound of something scraping against the ground..A shovel? A grave digger? "Oh please. Dont tell me Dean's at it again..I DID warn him..Geez.." she quickens her pace, following the source of the sound and comes to stop right at the edge of the gravesite, peering down into it. "Alright, enough playing around, don't you know grave robbery is illegal?"
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith blinks a bit as he sees where Buffy is headed, shaking his head slightly. "If it is can I hit him? Please? That guy /really/ annoys me." he says casually, even seeming to perk up at the idea. At least till they get to the hole. "Well, that's not Dean... You wanna hit her?"
Cheetah	From within the hole (which she dug all by herself), Cheetah lets out a startled squawk. What kind of a weirdo lurks around in a graveyard?! She stops digging and turns around in the darkness to espy... "You've got to be joking." This incredulous outburst is directed more at the uncaring universe than to anyone in particular. She massages her temples with her hairy fingers and mutters, "This is all I need." The night is dark, true, but Buffy can probably make out the person in the hole. Thomas can certainly discern it's a were-cat. With exceptionally perfect hair. Wait, did Buffy just accuse Cheetah of malfeasance? "Grave robbing?!?" Cheetah's offended visage explodes out of her massaging fingers. "How dare you?" Just because a were-cat is standing in a big hole that she obviously (and skillfully) dug all by herself just above the grave of a known warlock it's grave robbing? Weak tea, Slayer. Weak tea.
Buffy Summers	What kinda weirdo indeed. Buffy folds her arms and sighs as she peers down...And recognizes..Not Dean, but that crazy catlady from the other day. "You've got to be joking!" her own words perfectly echo Cheetah's, and exactly at the same time too. Because of course they do. "Oooh, I'd very much like to hit her." she smirks, and with a shrug, she leaps effortlessly into the grave, facing off against her...Nemesis? Bad penny? Thorn in her side? "Well, of course it'd be you, bad penny. You ALWAYS turn up at the wrong place at the wrong time..And you are so obviously robbing graves. What the hell else would you be doing out here? And give me one good reason why I shouldn't just punch you right now?"
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith looks down into the grave, then at his designer white t-shirt, and doesn't jump down, just crouches on his haunches a little bit. "Ladies, ladies, if you're going to fight I accept that, but please let me fill that grave about knee high with lime jello first..
Cheetah	Cheetah watches Buffy land in this perfectly innocent and in no way criminal ditch (that she dug all by herself -- not that anyone has acknowledged what a primo job she did). Cheetah's green eyes dart this way and that as she starts to dissemble, "Oh, don't be ridiculous there are plenty of perfectly good explana---" Without another word, Cheetah whirls around the business end of her shovel at blinding speed and smacks Buffy in the side of the head. >THWA-GANG!!!< The villain's green eyes partially roll back in her head and her eyelids flutter shut. "God, that felt good." It did. It really did. Those eyelids snap open in an instant and draw a bead on Thomas. She quirks an eyebrow, "Who wears designer clothes to a graveyard?" The question is rhetorical, obviously.
Buffy Summers	Buffy Summers smirks, arms folded loosely, not even considering her much of a threat. I mean, why would she? She's just a giant cat in a tacky costume..Err..Or is she like...Not wearing anything? ANYWAY! "Suuure there is. So why don't you go ahead and tell me why you're here, digging up....ACK!" she yelps suddenly as Cheetah moves, and this time she is quicker and a bit stronger than Buffy expected. Perhaps it was the timing, or the slippery ground, or the large rock jutting out of the muddy wall behind her, but Buffy gets wacked and hard, head spinning around from the shovel, getting slammed into the boulder behind her, and falling to the ground, unmoving. Well, that'd probably kill your average person. Buffy? She's still alive but that's gonna hurt when she wakes up. And someone's gonna be in a lot of trouble..
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith snarls, more like a growl really and his eyes shift from saphire blue to silver white and his skin takes on a luminesant glow. From his crouched position he basically just pounces down at her in a lunge. Using the length of his nearly 6' tall frame and the fact he undisputively has the high ground to just tray and lay a hand on her... And at the same time an aura seems to fill the air. The desire to touch /him/. To be touched /by/ him. To be taken. To mate.
Cheetah	Cheetah's reaction times are measured in nanoseconds and she perceives movement almost before it occurs. As soon as Thomas' muscles start to tense, she starts to react. The 'walls' of her (immaculate) ditch are relatively tall and composed of loosely compacted earth, even so, she's up and out of the hole just as the soles of Thomas' feet leave the ground. Not quite fast enough to escape his glowing aura, however, and Thomas' outstretched hand barely brushes against her calf as she moves. Once away from the edge of the grave Cheetah stumbles to an uncharacteristically clumsy halt. What just happened? Cheetah turns as Thomas touches down in the open gravesite. Next to the unconscious Buffy. Pretty, pretty, little Buffy. Her eyes dilate and a hellish expression takes hold of her unpleasant face, "Whu..what are you doing with her?!? Get away! You belong...TO ME!!" Claws slip out of their fleshy tombs at the ends of her fingers and the hair on the back of her neck stands erect. Perhaps this was a bad idea.
Thomas Raith	That touch... that single brush of his fingertips agienst her calf... was more erotic... more arousing... more absolutely sexual then the most talented favors of any man the werecat has ever had the luxury to enjoy. A brief flick of fingertip agienst her fur covered skin... Like a character from one of those chinese wire work movies he jumps out of the grave again. He glances at the mud streaked along his once pristine shirt and sighs taking it off. Leaving his rippling chest bare. Abs Like the pagan god of bowflex... He licks his lips almost sensuality and smirks. "Oh? Then come and get me.
Cheetah	More absolutely sexual? That's not entirely true: there was that one time in Cleveland... The corners of Cheetah's mouth curl up. For such a small gesture there is remarkable cruelty to be found. There isn't much distance between her and Thomas but there's more than enough for what she plans. Like a bolt, she blasts around Raith -- just out of his reach - and back into the grave at super speed. Back to Buffy. Pretty, pretty, little (unprotected) Buffy. Never rub another gal's rhubarb, Slayer. Thomas belongs to Cheetah now. Maybe the two of you were totally platonic, but Cheetah can't take that risk. Anyway, this will only take a moment. Then Cheetah can be back with her newfound plaything. And do things that will probably kill him. Cheetah raises a talon crowned hand and prepares to strike her unconcious 'rival'. Even before Urzkartaga's curse turned her worst impulses up to 11, Cheetah was a conniving beast who lived by the creedo 'Use him; then lose him; make sure no one can soothe him.' Contact with Thomas appears to have turned these instincts up to 12.