It's been a tough week. Rumblings under ground might be a second hellmouth. Seismic activity, or so Sam's said. Faith's not sure she buys it, never heard of a hellmouth on top of another hellmouth and she's been in the mouth of heck game for twenty years but Sam's not usually one to go with the wildest theory in the pile.
Whatever it is, Faith's on it. Or, she will be when she's done trying to figure out which button on Sam's stupid laptop opens the email. She might have the knockers of a twenty year old but Faith's got the brain of someone's ignorant old grandma when it comes to all things interwebs. She's got her feet up on the table, nursing a bowl of Dean's Quisp and trying to pay attention to both the laptop and the woman sitting at the table across from her. After a minute of inducing a headache, trying to keep an eye on both, she finally closes the laptop and leans back in her chair, "Could use a little less stink eye."