Dammitt
briar

Trick pounded the top of the tv angrily. Yes, watching surveillance tapes was not of the fun nature. Generally speaking. Lacked suave, finesse. Things only ought to happen live, reality based. So you can sniff it when they scream. Damn TV! While Kakistos waffled off to crush some fresh bones, suck up young pure virgin blood around here [that would probably be a challenge, seing how this convergence of evilmagik! spew seemed a bit crowdy, Slayers' presence not withstanding] [uggh. plural?] here he was stuck with the Satanblessed VCR. No cable, no HBO.

Of course, before the screen went crazy with the snowflakes, blurred white grays in speckling wavery annoyance -- things had started to get interesting.

The dark one had reached for the blonde one...

Trick. Angry. VCR.