Buffy was actually kind of enjoying her date with the Emperor. Whenever he wasn’t whining or flying off the handle, he could actually be quite charming.

Ensign Borat rushed into the restaurant. “Excusey, Darth Supremie, sorry to interrupt. Don’t want to be the bad news baron, but…”

“This better be good!” The Emperor roared, “For you to interrupt my date!”

“We have explosion in two parts of the sheep.”

“Where?”

“The armory and the hangar, Master Supremie,” Borat said, lingering awkwardly.

“Anything else!?” Darth Supremis exploded.

“Well, yes. The union of death is now officially on strike. They want greater wage and less cruelty, sirs.”

He bowed awkwardly and turned to exit. Suddenly, he was twisted back, floating in mid-air, his throat making gargling noises, as he struggled to breathe.

“Let him go!” Buffy demanded. “Don’t kill the messenger!”

Darth Supremis dropped Borat to the ground. “Who are YOU to give ME orders!?”

“Your future wife,” Buffy winked. “Just gettin’ a head start.”