She doesn't mean to laugh at him, but it's kinda hard not to when he's being dramatic about putting his foot in his mouth and being extra adorable at the same time. Which is different than him being cute. He's always cute. This is a side of him not many people get to see but she does. "Welcome to my life. Having your brain to mouth filter falter is just how it goes sometimes. You'll live." That's considered being supportive, right?
Okay, now that ─ the way he peeks out timidly from under the protection of a pink and purple and frilly pillow ─ would really have the forces of evil questioning Angel's big, bad brooding skills. "Your humor isn't bad per se. It caught me off guard is all. Hey, but now I know to be prepared for some tasteless humor bombs." She assures, turning back to the task at hand; project do-not-fail-and-give-Walsh-more-ammo-to-call-you-out-in-class-with.
She manages, too, for a solid forty minutes before she starts to fidget; the pencil taps along the pages, drags through her lips, is bitten on, used to doodle on the upper corners of the pages because they're her textbooks, not the schools. The first signs of Buffy's boredom kicking into gear. Followed by a groan that hides a yawn. "Okay, I think my brain is at capacity for psychology stuff." She announces, snapping the books shut and rolling onto her back. "I crammed in as much as I could, hopefully it'll be enough to pass tomorrow. If not then, I'm sure I can get a job with Xander delivering pizzas. Not the best fate since I'd look awful in the hat they make him wear." Turning on her side to mirror his position, she watches him a minute before whispering, "I forget how quiet you can be." It's true. For more than half of her studying she'd forgotten he was there. The low, comforting hum in her veins the only reminder at times he was near. "Also, how are you not bored watching me be bored out of my skull studying?"
:P
Okay, now that ─ the way he peeks out timidly from under the protection of a pink and purple and frilly pillow ─ would really have the forces of evil questioning Angel's big, bad brooding skills. "Your humor isn't bad per se. It caught me off guard is all. Hey, but now I know to be prepared for some tasteless humor bombs." She assures, turning back to the task at hand; project do-not-fail-and-give-Walsh-more-ammo-to-call-you-out-in-class-with.
She manages, too, for a solid forty minutes before she starts to fidget; the pencil taps along the pages, drags through her lips, is bitten on, used to doodle on the upper corners of the pages because they're her textbooks, not the schools. The first signs of Buffy's boredom kicking into gear. Followed by a groan that hides a yawn. "Okay, I think my brain is at capacity for psychology stuff." She announces, snapping the books shut and rolling onto her back. "I crammed in as much as I could, hopefully it'll be enough to pass tomorrow. If not then, I'm sure I can get a job with Xander delivering pizzas. Not the best fate since I'd look awful in the hat they make him wear." Turning on her side to mirror his position, she watches him a minute before whispering, "I forget how quiet you can be." It's true. For more than half of her studying she'd forgotten he was there. The low, comforting hum in her veins the only reminder at times he was near. "Also, how are you not bored watching me be bored out of my skull studying?"