"Don't want to hurt myself, tha's the laugh," Spike said pointedly. His brow crept up at where Sera cut off. The blood thing, it's...? Gross? Dangerous? Sexy? He smirked a little at the changed of subject.
There was his edge. He'd been waiting long enough.
"May be. Can't imagine blood botherin' a police officer. See enough. Bar fights gone bad, car accidents, suicides. A little red bother you? See something you can't handle an' land yourself here?" Spike prodded now. It was like picking a scab. Some people could simply deny their exist. Other people were habitual pickers. He, clearly, was the latter. "Bloods life, right there in everyone's face. Find it funny what a big damned deal they make about it."
He scratched absently at his arm. It was mostly healed and at that point where it constantly itched. It drove him crazy not being able to get at it. It wasn't a neurosis though, just habit.