Who: Nikki and Spike What: "I want my coat back, bitch." When: Saturday evening Where: A random convenience store in LA Status/Rating: incomplete/TBD
"You gonna buy something?"
Nikki turned around, glaring at the man behind the counter in the convenience store. "You want me to buy something? Chill the fuck out and let me chose my smokes," she said, shaking her head. "You ain't got any Lucky Strikes?"
"You see any Strikes?" he asked sarcastically, pointing to the wall where there were indeed, a definite lack of Nikki's preferred brand. "Choose something else or get out."
"I hope you're thankin' God in heaven right now you ain't got fangs, Jesus Christ," she muttered underneath her breath. Closing her eyes Nikki took a nice, deep breath and then finally looked back up at the guy. "Gimmie some Camels. And this." She shoved a pack of minty gum onto the counter. It was habit; she'd never liked going back home to Robin smelling completely like smoke. Even if he wasn't here, she still followed through.
Nikki collected her change from the man and slid the smokes and gum into her pockets. She was thinking that she'd have a time for a quick one before patrol started, but she hadn't even turned around from the counter when her Slayer-sense (that was what the girls around here called it, it seemed) started tingling. The scowl on her face became angrier, if possible. What the hell didn't people understand about letting her have her damned cigarettes first?