Sparrow hadn't been QUITE ready to get on the subject of Grell. There was far more small talk to be made, he'd decided. They could discuss the weather or the war or the boat or the state of Dawn or Buffy Summers or poetry or why McCoy was being such a prat.

He began picking away at a loose bit of paint on the doorframe as Archie spoke her name.

"Aye. Grell did indeed confess it, man. It's been...we never thought she'd target yourself that way."