holidays in the sun

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's days had taken on a fairly hum-drum rhythm: there was minding his business, minding the shop, and minding the Little Bit, and the real difference between the three was the presence of alcohol, demon ass to kick, and Dawn

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[meanwhileback]

"That was fucking funny."

A well-dressed young woman, who had emerged from a nearby row of shops just in time to see Spike's flambé act, gestures in his direction with the unlit cigarette she'd pulled from her purse moments earlier. Not that she's generally the type to laugh at others' misfortune, but it's not every day you see someone spontaneously combust in a public place, either, so fuck it, Penelope's gonna laugh.

"I mean, I was just gonna use my lighter, but you could just stick something in the sunlight and be a gentleman." The look on her face could best be described as 'amused as all get-out'.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's look, by contrast, could have best been described as "sod off."

"Been a long time since anyone called me that," he drawled, patting at a still-smoking bit of coat and making no move to assist.

[meanwhileback]

"Aw, come on," she mock-whined, gesticulating around with her sadly unlit cigarette, "Be a pal. Besides, it's not like anything of value will be lost."

It's almost like taunting him into exploding is personal, with how much unabashed glee she takes in it. That, or she just thinks his outfit is the opposite of fashion-forward. "Seriously, what is it, 1997 now? Did I fall asleep and wake up in 1997? Because I might have to kill myself, so let me know."

[idolstolemylook]

Spike could respect the crazy, he truly could, but he wasn't given to self-immolation any more than he had to be. He fished the lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. Maybe she'd shut up if he lit her cigarette, he thought hopefully. Seeing as he couldn't go anywhere.

"Black is always in fashion, ducks," he said.