He'd missed her. Buffy's shoulders sagged. How sad did that sound? How utterly tragic? She brushed at stray hair-wisps and tried not to look too...pitying, opting instead to grab a rag and scrub furiously at a ring of water condensation someone else's glass had long ago left.

"It's tough, I guess. To show up here. To have your heart put through a wringer on top of that." There wasn't much left to do after a woman made her position clear, feelings-wise. Not much left to do but wait, really. Having made a few men wait in her time, she felt she understood that concept.

But: "I know I barely know her, this time around. But if you ever want someone to put in a good word for you..." Buffy trailed off, convinced Sokka would refuse the help. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. Surely, he didn't really want someone else pleading his case.