Spike scowled. "I'm plenty threatening. You look like an extra from Cabaret."
Now he exhaled the smoke, a line of it from each nostril. This git talked too much. Far too much. Why was he talking so much? Didn't he make it clear he wanted to be left alone?
But you could do something with the suspenders, I suppose...
Spike nodded. "Could do. Could rip them off you and ring 'em around your neck until you stop yammerin'."
And he wanted a name, did he? Spike smirked. And he took a long pull on the cigarette, blue eyes fixed with disinterest now on the guy next to him.
"Spike," he said, both eyebrows raising. "Who in the bloody hell are you?"