When the first draw of his cigarette hit his system with a shock, he closed his eyes and basked in its befuddled sensation. With a further groan, he made himself comfortable. Comforted by the thought that none of this mattered anymore, not after their little exchange, he remained so, calmed and comforted. At least, until he heard her name. Letting out a deep sigh, he opened his eyes to look at Mitchell. "Then it's her own bloody fault. You'd expect someone who is aware of your nature and has seen visions concerning you, to have some common sense." Angrily, he took another drag from his cigarette, a far deeper one than most humans could manage.
And to think she'd been that careless with him also, the other night. Did those visions tell her nothing? Did those visions only show her their good sides? "The other night, she came over to try and ..." His hands rose in the air to hyphenate his following words. "'Cheer me up'. So, she brought me her blood, all neatly wrapped up in a Tupperware container, took away my whiskey and she tasted some. Didn't like it. Then had a shot of whiskey and told me the taste of blood was for sure gone on her bloody tongue." Spike shot him a look. Of course he'd taken it as a challenge to kiss her - any self respecting vampire would have.
But that wasn't fair towards her either. "But she means well. I think." But it was just so bloody stupid.