Spike's chair landed back on four legs loudly. He sat with his knees spread and elbows rested on them, hunched over and looking up at Seras in a sort of 'then what're you good for' fashion. It was nothing personal, though. Countless orderlies were given the exact same stupid stare.
"Like the war veterans? Well, either you were a real bloody good cop or a piss-poor one then. Which is it?"
Sometimes it was as easy as forgetting social niceties for Spike to get his fun. Besides, he didn't do empathy. Seemed a hell of a lot of wasted effort to spare someone a few hurt feelings.