Like a little firefly caught in a jar, thumping against a glass wall alert with the desire to set the black night on fire: such was his mood at the moment.

The sky was not black, nor blue. Rather, it was gray. The kind of gray little pixels of light foretell, or used to, in video games. Shallow, bland- a single block of gray with neither depth nor space. Such was the entirety of everything Spike saw outside his crypt.

He smoked a cigarette restlessly, without much thought for the sky lacking wane and wax of moon; (or stars or anything else, for that matter) it wasn’t unfamiliar.

Hated these moments, time in the coop.
~ ~ ~ ~

Sneer. "Well, aren’t you goin’ to give me an invite?"

Unease. Like-I-have-a-choice. "Uh, c’mon in."

He watched in fascination as the headless naked doll was taken apart, bit by bit: arms, legs, torso. Re-assembling and shuffle.

I’ll have a thigh with that. A couple of breasts. He grinned wolfishly, like a blond imp who has made a fantastic discovery, or a man done wrong given new designs.

"No, too big."

"I’ll, uh, I’ll have to reset a couple of things. It’ll take a while, and I’m not sure you want to be here-"

Gave a good face. "Do it fast."

Smell of...some adrenaline, tiredness? "I will."

"By next time."

Sigh. "Okay."

He didn’t care, really, unless maybe it’d get the job done faster. But there was something about it that made it recognizable, much like his vice.

"What is it?" Sharply.

Pause.

"If there’s something interfering with the job-"

No veils here to shelter threat, the timbre was quite clear. Edge like a newly-sharpened butcher’s knife.

"Ahh...my girlfriend- went back to Minnesota to stay with some friends."

He walked around the warm body in a tight circle, felt the need rise to hackles quickly, now, after she’d come back...

Curtly: "It won’t interfere."

"Nn- No."

Tell-tale signs vibrating warningly. Slight buzz beyond that of the thrice-damned-to-the-millionth-power chip. The bloke could sense it, too. Almost time to close shop.

Made for the door.

"I need to keep all the pictures- schematics-"

Shrugged. Disdain. Kept on going and didn’t look back.

(Could I snap his neck if I tried? Quick. How much pain?)

Snarl.

(Do I want to?)

"By next time."

Left.

~ ~ ~ ~

So that’s that. What, seventh fag? Wondered how the bloke was doing.
Would listen to the Coldplay CD he nicked the other night (God, somebody stake me already! Nobody would answer the call. Which was worse, that no one would answer, or that he actually wanted to continue living his unlife?-) if there’d been a player in the crypt. There was an itty-bitty radio, but Harmony (bint) took that when she left. Hello Kitty, pastel pink.

Damn the vice, damn her hair.

Took another drag and let the smoke curl in his insides.

Wonder what the chit is up to?