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Spike is the big bad vampire with a soul. (blondie_bear) wrote in wariscoming,

He plucked the bag of blood up - noting with amusement that it had been shoved from it's place perched at the front of the fridge to the very back behind a bag of shredded cheese - and kicked the door shut with the heel of his faded boot. Leaning back against the closed door, Spike arched a brow and smirked. "Mmm, aggression. Tasty." On that note, he gave his head a shake, bumps and ridges forming across his forehead and in between his yellowed eyes and sank his pointed teeth into the upper right hand corner of the bag. Fangs puncturing the plastic easily, the vampire moved around the center table, opted to sit in the chair right after the seat that Andrea had chosen for herself, and kicked his feet up into the vacant space along the same table in the spot that would have been his if he had chosen to sit beside her.

Taking a few drinks from the bag, Spike then turned his attention onto Andrea again. He was never one for manners, so Spike didn't hesitate to speak again. "Alcohol, lonely and abandoned kitchen. A women who's either PMSing or severely depressed." Spike stretched his legs a little, hardly concerned about the fact that Andrea probably didn't appreciate having the soles of his feet invading her personal space. She'd live. "I'd say PMS, but my spidey senses would've been tingling if that were the case. So what's got you down, hmm? Get dumped? Lose the lottery? Feeling neglected? Need a hug?" He pouted slightly, to liven up the effect, stretching his arms wide in the process. "C'mere."