"My first order of business," said Mozell, "is wardrobe."

"Too bad Cordelia isn't here," said Buffy.

"Bite your tongue! I should have more properly said 'clothes'--I don't need anything as grand as a wardrobe, or even an ensemble. I'm not going to be able to afford anything but WalMart, anyway."

"Walmart?" said Buffy.

"I've been dropped into the midst of a savage wilderness. Next thing you'll try to tell me you have no McDonalds."

"Sure we do," said Willow, "but it's so expensive that we only go there on special occasions."

"Besides," said Xander, "who wants to have to dress up to go out to eat?"

"You know," said Mozell, "I'm beginning to wish I could get one of you back to my hood, just to see your reactions. I'm sure they'd be even more amusing than mine." She calculated her remaining funds. "Any chance of an advance on my salary?"

"I think I could manage forty or fifty dollars," said Giles. She winced. "I'm sorry, but though one may make a considerable profit off the sale of magic items, one must actually sell them. You'd think there'd be a greater market in a place like Sunnydale."

"Rats. I'm not a clothes horse, but I don't see how I can get more than a couple of outfits out of that, even if I shopped at Good Will." She looked around the group, gauging sizes. "Okay, it's no good even considering you two girls," she said, flicking a finger at Willow and Buffy. "Oh, you itty-bitty people." Buffy glowered. Mozell ignored her. "Oz--same for you. Sorry, dude." Oz shrugged. "Giles--no, I don't think I can ask to borrow any of your clothes. I'd feel like I had to keep perfect posture at all times. So that leaves me with..." She smiled at Xander.

"Um... You'd wear guy's clothes?" he questioned.

"In this day and age, aside from shoes and underwear, what the hell is the difference?"

Buffy was wrinkling her nose. "That's just wrong."

"Oh, come ON!" snapped Mozell. "You know darn good and well that there's a fine old tradition of girls stealing shirts from their boyfriends."

"Well..." said Xander, "sure. I can let you borrow some jeans, sweats, and tees."

"Great. A few pairs of panties and maybe a set of cheap sneakers and I'll be set."

"Well, I can't take you shopping," said Buffy.

"You know, if we'd had you as president back in the forties, Pearl Harbor never would have happened, because you sure as hell believe in pre-emptive strikes. Nobody asked you. I'd rather see if Xander will blush when forced to give his opinions on my selections."

He blinked. "Me?"

"You're my ride anyway, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well, that's most likely all we can do for the present," said Giles. "I need to contact the Council to see if they have any research materials on this subject." He frowned. "The trick will be asking for them in a manner that won't raise too many questions. Miss Mozell, please be at the Magic Box tomorrow at, say, nine o'clock."

Xander nodded. "That'll work out. I have to be work at eight-thirty, so you can drop me off and then pick me up when you're off. You, uh, you do drive, don't you?"

"Sure. Unless you folks drive on the left and make left turns on red on alternate Thursdays?" she asked.

"You're weird."

"We've established that. Move on. The only problem is if anyone wants to see my drivers license. I left it in the next dimension, and even if I hadn't, they might look closely at me, since it's for Texas."

Xander and Mozell went out to his car. "We'll go to Toberts," said Xander. "I get all my clothes there. Their stuff is inexpensive, but it's pretty good quality for the price."

"Sounds like my kind of place," she said. "Say, do they have any motels in town that are less expensive than that place we crashed in last night."

"Maybe, but believe me, you don't want to go there. Even the police don't like to go to those places after dark, and not because of vampires. And since those motels are frequented by the, shall we say less firmly rooted element, they're also the favored hunting grounds of anything in Sunnydale that thins the human herd."

"Well, poot. It wasn't too expensive last night, but if I have to keep shelling out my reserve is going to be used up in no time. Then if I have to live on what Giles can afford to pay me... Let's say that 'subsistence' will take on a whole new meaning."

*I can't believe I'm about to say this, but here goes.* "Would you consider boarding somewhere?"

She snickered. "I'm sorry, but that sounds so nineteenth century. I guess I would, as long as I had kitchen and bathroom privileges, and as long as they didn't insist on watching nothing but westerns on television."

"Personally, I can live and die without westerns."

She peered at him. "Xander, did you just offer to let me move in with you?"

"Okay, don't say no right away. Think about it for a minute, and..."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're a doll. Thanks."

"Oh. Well. Good." He paused. "You don't even want to hear my arguments in favor of it? I'm kind of proud of how sensible I can make it sound."

"Knock yourself out."

"First thing, I have two bedrooms, and they both actually have beds, so you won't have to deal with sleeping on a couch or one of those torture devices they call a roll-away. My kitchen is at least as clean as the kitchens of most of the fast food places you'll visit. Contrary to popular belief, I can cook beyond nuking popcorn and pizza--I just don't. I'd ask about half of what it would cost you to rent a motel room, an occasional bag of groceries, and you pitch in on the cooking and cleaning."

"I'm supposed to give this a lot of consideration, right?"

"I have cable."

"Sold! Geez, I have to skip dimensions to live with a cute guy. I guess it's just as well I'm on another plane of existence, because this would give my Mom fits."

"Um... well... You are going to have your own room."

"I know that, muffin. I'm old enough to be your, er, your young, cool aunt. Besides, I've seen your previous objects of interest, and I know how I rank against Cordelia, Buffy, and Anya."

"Who is this Anya?"

"Feel grateful that you don't know." They'd pulled into the parking lot of a very big department store. "Are you sure this isn't a WalMart?" Xander pointed at the sign. She shrugged. "A WalMart by any other name..."

They went inside, and she got a basket. "I thought you didn't intend to buy many clothes," said Xander.

"I don't, but I learned a long time ago--go into a store, get a cart. I almost always find stuff I didn't know I needed till I saw it, and this way I don't have to juggle like the Flying Karamazov Brothers. Ladies' undies are this way."

Xander took a step back. "Um... I think I'll go do a little grocery shopping while you..."

"Oh, no you don't! I'm still not ready to go wandering around entirely on my own." He took another step back, and she swiftly reached out and grabbed his belt, eyes narrowing. "Alexander LaVelle Harris..."

"Crap--all three names. You mean business. Okay."

She let go. "It won't take long, and I'll try to give you the minimum embarrassment." They walked into the lingerie department. Xander took one look at the torso dummy wearing black bra and panties, and started blushing. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Xander, those are as sexless as a Barbie doll. They don't even have nipples... Wait." She peered closer. "I'll be damned--they do. I guess they're going for life like, but this is California. How often is it going to get cold enough to..."

"Is your mental censor ever on duty?"

"Don't stand under the sprinkler, Xander. You're blushing so hard you might set it off." She grabbed a plastic wrapped package and dropped it in the cart. "Okay, I'm done."

"That's it?" said Xander. "You made it sound like there was going to be a Victoria's Secret fashion show."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have a lot of patience with frilly stuff, and I can't afford anything but the basics. There they are--six pairs of panties--white cotton."

"Kind of... bland."

"Bland? Were you planning on eating them?"

"Mozell!"

"Look, I'm not going to get black lace and scarlet ribbons, but if white cotton is too plain to suit you, here." She put back the package and took one that looked the same. "There."

"It's the same thing."

"No, it isn't. Those are Champagne, and they're nylon. I'm not sure I'll be able to keep from swooning with the luxury."

"Aren't you going to get a bra?"

"Why? I'm wearing one, and unless I'm out in public--I won't be. All I need is my working bra."

"As opposed to one that doesn't work?"

"Laugh if you will. I had one once where the elastic went at a bad moment, and... But that's not a story fit for public consumption. Speaking of consumption, let's head for the food section. Those donuts have long since departed the scene, and I just spotted the chips section." As they walked toward the grocery section, Mozell said, "Ya know, Xander--you're a very special person. Many people, and most males, would have rolled their eyes right out of their head by now, putting up with me."

"Hey, I'm enjoying it. It's nice to be around someone who's as big a smart ass as I am. Oz can be pretty smart ass when he wants, but he doesn't talk all that much. Willow thinks I haven't grown up, and Buffy... Yeah, the eye rolling bit is a pretty fair description of her reaction." Mozell was grabbing bags of different sorts of chips and dropping them in the cart. "Waveys, Fritos, Doritos, Tostitos, and Cheetos?"

"You're going to want some, aren't you? All moods accounted for, except," she grabbed a bag of pretzels, "there." She patted the bags. "These are my comfort foods, Xander, and I'm gonna need a hella lot of comforting in the days to come."

"What else comforts you?"

"Sodas, chocolate covered cookies, and Pop Tarts. Oh, and snuggles--and I don't mean the fabric softener. Can't buy the snuggles in a supermarket." She sighed. "They've been few and far between in my lifetime, so..." she patted the bags of chips again. "While we're here in the cooler section, do you need beer?"

"I don't need beer. Last night was not the norm."

"Okay, do you want beer?"

"Shoot yeah."

"Fine. Pick." He chose a six pack. "You can get a more expensive brand, you know."

"Might be too rich for my blood."

"And he's kind to my pocketbook, too. Tell ya what, Xander. To celebrate our new cohabitation, pick something out and I'll cook tonight."

His eyes lit up. "Pot roast?" he said hopefully. "I can remember when my Nana made pot roast."

"How about your Mom?"

Xanders expression tightened. "Mom wasn't Betty Homemaker."

"It's early in the day. Pot roast it totally do-able. But you're going to have to eat carrots with it. It isn't pot roast without carrots, but I promise that the gravy will make it all right. Meat section, meat section... Ack!"

"What?" "They have crown roasts! I haven't seen those for years. So this is where they went. I wonder if y'all get all the lost and strayed socks, safety pins, hangers, and pens, too. Have you got any produce at your house?"

"Do pickles count?"

"We need onions, potatoes, and carrots. Mushroom soup, brown gravy mix, rice..."

"We're having potatoes."

"Your point is?"

"Never mind."

"I'm from next door to Louisianna. If it has gravy, rice is appropriate. Biscuits. Shall we be sickeningly healthy and have a salad?"

"Well..."

"It doesn't have to be too healthy. I'll make it with just Iceberg lettuce, a couple of scraps of tomato, and lots of croutons, dressing, and bacon bits."

"Sounds great."

"And finally the breakfast food aisle... *squeal!*

"What now?"

She was clutching a box. "I don't believe it! Blackberry Pop Tarts."

"You're easy to please."

"I dunno 'bout that. I've never had a boyfriend trying, so the limits haven't been tested. Do you have a TV Guide at home?"

"Um... no. But there's one in the newspaper every day."

She took a small, colorful digest off the rack by the check-out stand. "Check the price." He did. "How much is a daily paper?"

"Son of a gun. It's cheaper to buy the guide."

"Congratulations. You've learned comparison shopping. That and how to make milk gravy was the only thing useful I picked up in ninth grade home economics, and if I'd waited another year or so my mother would have taught me both."

"Then why did you take home ec?"

"It was either that or another course in hygiene, and I already knew the facts of life."

They checked out, and Xander insisted on paying half. "Are you sure? I doubt that you'll eat half of that. I'm going to account for most of the chips."

"Don't kid yourself. I'm semi-famous slayer of corn chips."

"One terrific thing about staying with a guy--you get to carry the heavy stuff when we get to your place."

"You're gonna cook for me--I'm willing."

"Careful, honey. Some day you may say that to the wrong broad and find yourself getting an education you didn't expect." They were in the car by now, bags in the back seat. "Oo, blushing again." Mozell patted his shoulder. "Look, don't take me seriously. I like to tease. One good thing about being well upholstered--I don't have to worry about being taken too seriously. And if the honey, baby, sweetie makes you uncomfortable--sorry, you're going to have to learn to live with it. I'm from the South--it's genetic."

"I don't mind." He started the car and drove for a minute. "Actually, I kind of like it."

"Good. That will make life easier."

Xander cut a glance toward his companion. She'd been a little off-putting the night before, but in the daylight she was more quirky than odd. *I don't know about easier, but definitely more interesting.*