[She's seen him go to some dark places before, having lived through enough. Fred hasn't seen this. She hasn't seen him go this low before. She immediately knows she doesn't like it. The bartender sets the drinks down, but he's quick to get back out of there, sensing the tension. Fingers idly touch at the corners of the glass, frowning.]
Who is Illyria? Wesley, it's me. It's Fred. [There's something about the way he says that name that almost chills her to the bone though. It's like something happens, something she's not sure she wants to know now, but he's looking at her with pain, with hatred, and she doesn't want him to ever look at her like that.]
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Who is Illyria? Wesley, it's me. It's Fred. [There's something about the way he says that name that almost chills her to the bone though. It's like something happens, something she's not sure she wants to know now, but he's looking at her with pain, with hatred, and she doesn't want him to ever look at her like that.]