Disclaimer: Neither Burn Notice nor Buffy belong to me.
When you’re a spy, you’ll often find yourself in places where you don’t have a whole lot of control over your surroundings. You might set everything up how you want it, but the basic details can’t be changed. And so, when you’re not in the middle of a third world country trying kill a terrorist, it’s nice to have access to some of the finer things in life. Like, say, Yogurt. Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. What does a spy need with yogurt? It’s a long story; and it doesn’t really matter, suffice to say it’s a comfort food.
What does matter is that we were out, and four stores later, I still hadn’t found any. This was getting ridiculous. I sighed and dialed Fi; maybe I was just not having a good day. “Any luck Fi?”
“No luck here Michael. You’ve really been to four stores?”
“Five if we count yours. What the hell is going on?”
“No idea. Maybe there was a recall?”
“No, I checked. I’ll try another place.”
“You know, you could just—“ I shut the phone and headed out the door. I’d been burned; I was damned if I was going to go without yogurt too.
Willow frowned as she squeezed the last box of yogurt into the over-full cart. This was the eight store she’d cleaned out, and it was looking like she’d need to hit a few more to get enough. Who would’ve thought the only way to appease a N’gatharash Overdemon was yogurt. Still, spending all day buying the stuff was preferable to an apocalypse in the middle of Miami.
“Yeah, Violet, I’m here. … Nope, we’re still going to need more it looks like. … I don’t know, maybe another few stores worth. … Yes, I realize you have better things to do, but unless … Yes, exactly. Alright. Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”
Willow pushed the over-laden cart up to the check out station and smiled sheepishly at the checkout boy. “Did you find…” he trailed off as he took in the contents of her cart, “what you’re looking for?”
“Yep! Thank you.”
“No, Fi, the last place was c… what the hell!? No. There’s some red-head pushing out an entire cart full.”
“An entire cart? What could she possibly need that much yogurt for?”
“I have no idea, but I’d bet she’s the one who bought out the other stores. Sonuva bitch!”
When you’re a spy, sometimes you just don’t win. No matter how well you plan, you can’t predict everything. Sometimes there will be events you couldn’t possibly have foreseen coming, like a cute redhead buying out twelve stores worth of Yogurt. When that happens, you do what you can, and you move on. And you make sure that you wont be blindsided by them again.
“Yeah, Sam. I need you to find out what you can about a ‘Willow Rosenberg. She looks like she’s in her late twenties, red-head, maybe 5’5, 5’6. Thanks Sam.”