[Spike doesn’t fall off the bed so much as flail off, his hand landing on his comm., and in a stroke of pure luck, setting it to record.]
What the…
[There’s a pregnant pause. He’s seemed to realize something. Perhaps it’s that his window is open and shining a cheery beam of light right over his new bed?]
…I was right…
[And back to pausing. The studio
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Spike.
Spike died. Turned into a pillar of fire. But Andrew remembers being told as soon as he got here that people can be brought to the Elegante even if they've died.
When Andrew finally finds his voice, it's weak and cracks when he speaks. Even then, he's only able to squeak out one feeble word.]
...S-Spike?
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Who's--
[...okay, so he didn't really know how he turned it on last time, so enjoy the sounds of the 100+ year old vampire fiddling with his comm like an idiot.]
bugger it, do I even have it--
Yeah, right, who's this?
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...oh, my God. It's you, you're here, it's you...
[Oh, DUH, Andrew.] Hey! Where are you?
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If you're not going to tell him what he wants to hear...]
Oh, just on my way to the corner market. Pick up some milk, eggs, bit a reading material, if you get my drift.
But back to my previous question, who the hell is this?
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...An-Andrew. Uhm... [Think back, Andrew. Think how he might remember you. As much as he hates being identified this way, it might be the only option.] Tucker's brother? The... other guy in the Trio. W-Warren's friend...
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May've eaten a Tucker once. To be honest, Andrew, I don't recall the conversation turning towards his family members.
[There's the sound of a sliding door opening and Spike steps onto the balcony. His? Balcony? He takes in a deep breath in through his nose. Takes a moment to just soak up that sun.
Then, he seems to remember he's still got your attention.]
You're not a witch, are you? A warlock?
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Uhm... n-no... Uh, my friend Jonathan w-was. Wh... why?
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This walkie-talkie only get you?
And for God's sake, spit it out.
[He doesn't get your deal, dude. This isn't typical scared food behavior.]
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Uhm, the captain brought you here. He brought us all here. Th-the walkies--communicators, they broadcast to--to everyone.
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[This is how he asks nicely for some elaboration.]
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Because I was willing to put money down that he was captain of the bleeding moon.
Who is he? Why is he taking people? Me, specifically.
Pfft, if you can.
[He's starting to realize heeee's probably wasting his already unneeded breath.]
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Uhm... they said that our world is destroyed and... stuff...
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...Well.
That sounds like a load of crock.
Excuse me if I don't take some whiny little sod's word for it right out of the gate. You sound ready to believe up was down if there's a good fist to back it up.
Anything else?
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I told you, like, everything... what else do you want to know?
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