Faith's efforts to not roll her eyes are almost successful. Flickering lids, but for a split second. She's purposely standing with her back to an uncovered window, bathed from behind in sunlight just in case this chick's one of those who can't daywalk --- which would be ideal, because if there's one thing a Slayer hates? It's a vampire with a daylight pass.
"Right, right. Save the wah-pire routine for the tourists, Kitten. I did a chunk behind actual bars, so when I say I don't wanna hear it, best believe that."
She's seen this before. Immortal, eternally powerful and young, bemoaning how unfair life has been thus far. How being stricken with the disease that is vampirism is better, somehow, than humanity. They're probably not wrong, but for someone on the other side of those fangs who's job it is to keep them from spreading that disease? Faith can't let her ridiculously pronounced ability to see grey areas cloud her judgment, here.
"So, you're free, huh? That a fact? See, I look at you vamps with all those gifts, fixin' to run amok in the world and all I see is misery lookin' for company. You can decorate that prison cell however you want, lady. Don't make it Disneyland."
