[A man, who apparently thinks he's Billie Idol with that get-up, is sitting at Sergei's bar. Around him hangs a heavy cloud of nicotine. He happens to be attempting to drink and smoke himself into oblivion.

It should go without saying that he is extremely drunk.

And possibly on the moody side.

Walk lightly and carry a pointed stick.]

[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 ( Read more... )