"Who said there was a body left?" Spike glanced at Dora with the sort of expression to suggest that he wasn't joking, though he doubted she would fall for it. Maybe she would if she really had invited someone else, but he also doubted that possibility.
"Never learned how to share," he muttered. Though he pretended to consider the matter, it was ultimately dismissed with a disinterested shrug. "Pick better friends, and I won't have to kill 'em."
It did amuse Spike to hear talk of their 'relationship,' but he spent only a brief moment considering the matter. He and Dora were somewhere between partners in crime and comrades, as far as he was concerned, and he wasn't particularly interested in figuring out exactly which end of the spectrum they occupied. They just... were. That was good enough for now.
Even if she did think he might have gone crazy.
Rather than go the obvious route of voicing protest to being told - playfully as he assumed it to be - that he was crazy, he just smiled at her. The expression itself was something of a cross between 'insane serial killer' and 'lovable dork', though he tried to make it seem as if it hadn't been carefully contrived. Maybe he would have been a bit more convincing if not for breaking away to chuckle at the thought she seemed to put into whether she'd killed anyone. Or maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough. Spike really couldn't be bothered to determine his own faults or motives at the moment.
"Friends?" This time, he wasn't playing when he looked at Dora as if she'd gone crazy. She didn't seriously think he was in the market for more ties and more liabilities, did she? The few allies he'd claimed so far were plenty enough. Besides, what kind of bonding could possibly be accomplished when nobody could even hear themselves think?
"The only friends I made were a pair of earplugs. Good friends, though... kept my ears from bleeding."
He locked his fingers together behind his head and slid down in the chair a bit as he watched Dora and Iridia for a while. The knowledge that they were likely to be under surveillance made it difficult to know just what to say, and the thought of trying to piece together a coded conversation wasn't all that appealing. He had no doubt that, together, they possessed the wit and insight to talk about nothing in particular and know what it really meant, but after the stressful days of headaches and lost sleep...
Well, it just wasn't feasible. At least not for Spike. So he just watched, wondering for a moment what to discuss. He hated to admit it, but the fact that he had to question whether some of the things he'd like to say to Dora were safe to speak meant he was willing to be fairly open with her. Maybe even too open. But that was a thought best left unexplored.
"You can be honest with me," he finally said, offering the sort of smirk which was likely to give away that he wasn't going anywhere serious with the topic. (The truth of the opening statement was just a technicality.) "Go ahead, tell me about the new friends you made... each with their own pocket full of sunshine."
He watched her carefully after reciting the most memorable phrase from that annoying brain-worm of a song, wondering if she would throw the book at his face. He'd probably deserve it if she did.