"What makes you think I haven't already done the dress thing?" He wondered, if only for a moment, how difficult it would be to fool a smart woman like Fred into thinking that he had spent his entire childhood roaming the streets in poorly cut dresses. She was a bit of a genius, yes, but that mean that she still lacked in the common sense that most geniuses tended to lose in those massive brains of theirs? "My Mum. She was a tailor, you know. Didn't have any of those mannequins to stitch her dresses together with, so I..." He tipped his head to the side and sighed. "I had to wear them for her. While she stitched them together. It was a bloody nightmare. But I did look good."
Spike shook his head. "And we wouldn't want that. He'd likely end up killed. Or throttled to death by Petrelli." Peter. Not the other one. Or...ones. How many did they have running around here again?