[for Rogue and Faye] karma karma karma-

[dreaming_cowboy]

Spike generally makes out that he's pretty oblivious. He makes out he's a lot of things, and many of them can be pretty convincing to those who only know him at a surface level. Which is a lot. That's part of the whole deal

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[velation]

It's been some months now since that day Faye Valentine sat out in the jungle with a foolish man, arm draped around her shoulder. Months now since she decided to make a promise of the sort she swore to herself would never happen again, one that relied on the other half to be trustworthy, and one that was only shaped for his gain. And tonight, for whatever reason, she wonders if it's about time to break it

[dreaming_cowboy]

He slides onto the seat next to her, without looking over, and absently raps his knuckles on the bar. He figures he can; he's here enough.

It's practically a local.

No, screw that, it is, isn't it? It's local to him, and he's local. Nothing to be but local, around here.

"Can't believe you still have those," he says. As an opener, it may be lacking, but it's honest.

[velation]

Today, the anger isn't worth it. She can see the movement from the corners of her eyes, still a touch unfamiliar for the lack of blue, and so she closes her eyes, just listening to the sound of his voice. It's crazy, but the desperate desire to turn back the clock to how things were, to before they found that stupid tape and before Spike got wind of Julia, still aches in her chest. Maybe, she thinks to herself, that's what being homesick means. No matter how accustomed she's grown to the island, or how much she's coming to terms with Spike so changed, none of this feels like home yet. Nor is Faye sure that it ever will.

She's been known to be rather stubborn, heels digging into the earth whenever possible.

"I promised someone I'd quit," she replies, holding the box out in the direction of the voice. "Want to help me keep that promise?"

[dreaming_cowboy]

It occurs to him in a disconcerting moment that he may not be the only one for whom life moves on, shifts in unanticipated ways. He certainly didn't anticipate that.

True, he tries not to anticipate anything, because it limits one's ability to react, narrows it down to a set of prepared responses. Rehearsal removes the ability to move with the situation; as in combat, in life.

Still, he doesn't even have an immediate off-the-cuff response to that one, and stares at the packet for a long moment.

"Are you serious?" he says, not taking it.

But ready to swipe it the moment it looks like it might be withdrawn.