(no subject)
Some nights are sociable nights and some aren't, and some are right in between.
Tonight's a kind of in-between night: Spike isn't real sure he feels like drinking but he knows he doesn't want to hang out upstairs alone. So he wanders downstairs, lit cigarette in his mouth, and leans back against the wall near the front door. It's where he stood and watched the very first night he got here.
He thinks eventually he might get something to drink, something to eat. Then again, he might solve the mysteries of the whole damn universe from this spot by the door: he has no fucking idea. Whatever happens happens.
Tonight's a kind of in-between night: Spike isn't real sure he feels like drinking but he knows he doesn't want to hang out upstairs alone. So he wanders downstairs, lit cigarette in his mouth, and leans back against the wall near the front door. It's where he stood and watched the very first night he got here.
He thinks eventually he might get something to drink, something to eat. Then again, he might solve the mysteries of the whole damn universe from this spot by the door: he has no fucking idea. Whatever happens happens.