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

Oh, like he bloody well cared if it was disgusting. Wasn't that the entire point of sitting here and pestering her in the first place? Making a show of it, Spike tipped the cup back and slurped the bloody concoction down loudly. "Mmm." Blood and alcohol alike staining his lips, he purposefully set his drink as close to Andrea as possible before propping his elbow up along the edge of the table and leaning slightly in her direction. Tongue darting out to lick his lips, he peered off at her and simply said, "Didn't answer my question there, sweetcheeks. Are they your friends or not? 'Cause if they are and you're denying their friendship when an innocent member of the public questions you about it, one would think that your friends would be terribly offended, don't you? But really - it's fine. It's expected for a woman like you to have her insecurities. I picked that bit up when I walked in and saw you drinking and sulking. Nice look for you, by the way. I'd prefer to view the party with you bearing a bit less clothing next time, but hey. I'll take what I can get."

He leaned in closer, no longer caring about the invasion of personal space. He was practically inches away from her face and Spike knew he was pushing it. But so what? It was what he did. He pushed. He pissed people off. Yet, surprisingly, sometimes he was right. And he often struck those important nerves in the process. "Punch me in the nose. I could use a little foreplay." He was smirking widely, not a care in the world. It wasn't surprising. Not when he was the one who had taunted the Slayer for years with those sarcastic remarks and slugs to the head as a result. He'd had worse.