"Give it back," Andrew whined.

Spike glared at him. "Go away," he commanded simply.

Andrew stomped a foot on the floor huffily, "Give it back!"

Spike rolled his eyes, "I. Don’t. Have. Them."

Andrew pouted. "Well somebody took it..." he whined.

"Why would I want to take your oven mitts?" Spike asked.

"Not mitts," Andrew corrected, "*Mitt*."

"What could I do with *one* oven mitt?" Spike asked.

Andrew raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Spike frowned, "Get out of my basement."

Andrew scurried away.

Spike smirked and pulled the mitt out from under his pillow. He’d just developed a very interesting plan...