"You don't have much of a heart left either," he grumbled, "it's all withered and - forget it." Why would he ever bother trying to explain anything in detail to this one? It'd be a stupid thing to attempt, really. Terribly stupid indeed.
She was too perky. Cheerful. Maybe if someone found a way for her to suppress that a bit this all wouldn't be so horrible. Torture, it was, constantly being around someone who was all happy. Constantly demanding attention. She was a puppy. A poodle, to be downright specific. Spike hated poodles.
He gloomily took the annoying pecks to the face before, with much discomfort, he returned her kiss with one of his own. That done and out of the way, he pried himself from her arms and stumped back over to the corner of the room. "I love you because you're real," he said, trying to sound less bored of all of this as he really was, "you're real, you're true, and that's all a man like me needs." He nudged the box in the corner with his foot. "Here. That's for you." Stupid ponies.