Does she accept your help?

Okay, so she'd agreed to come meet Angel, the only problem was. . .where the hell was he? Gah, for all I know he's standing right behind me, she thought, then just for reference, she glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise he really was behind her, well, at least a good couple of meters away, but still.

A smile inched up her glossy tiers as she neared him. "Hey, you," she stated casually, crossing her arms against her chest. Clad in some jeans that clung tightly to her form, a white wife beater and some boots. Nothing too fancy, not for the Buffster. Her right hand came up and pushed her wondering blonde tresses back behind her ears. Her hair was worn down, slightly curled.

"So, what'd ya wanna meet with me for?" Of course she kind of already knew the answer to her inquiry, but it never hurt to ask. She knew he was going to offer help, something she probably wouldn't take willingly. She was a big girl and could take care of herself, or at least she put off that image, most of the time. With a sigh, she waited. The message of doom ready to blow her away.