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

"Except I'm already a painting. A painting of glory, sex appeal, and brilliance." When she failed to pour him a glass, Spike simply reached past her and dragged the bottle of rum across the table. Ah, rum. Good times. Tipping the bottle over his glass, he filled it up and, this time, took the seat that was directly beside Andrea. Surely she would appreciate his wonderful company rather than sitting here all on her lonesome? He was actually pretty sure that she'd rather be alone. But what good did it ever do a person when they were alone with a table full of alcohol? None, that's what. Not unless they were Spike. He was fully convinced that he was the only one who could appropriately get away with it.

"Now, let's try this again." He dumped some of the rum down his throat before continuing. "What's got you here on your own, eh? 'Cause if you're gonna drink yourself stupid, might as well do it in a place where you're not going to be interrupted."