bountyhead | × ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ

[ Hearing the clinking of glass in the bag, he raises an eyebrow. Did she actually... do something nice for him? She actually went out of her way to do him a favor? That in itself is surprising enough, but the fact that she actually took the time to find him something good is... even more surprising. He looks up at her, a thoughtful look on his face. ]

...Huh. Thanks. Wasn't expecting much of anything, really so... thanks.

[ He winces a little as he reaches out for it, and he's quick to unscrew it and takes a generous swig of it. He sighs and relaxes a little before he shifts into a more comfortable position, at least for now. ]

Is it my dignity? Cuz I'm pretty sure I left that at the bar last night.

[ There's a tiny pang of guilt when she hears him wince. It's still hard for her to piece that night together, fully, but the damage she's done manifests. Faye sits there for a moment and watches while Spike guzzles down two hearty gulps worth of liquor and she quickly follows suit. The taste will draw away whatever trace of apprehension began to ripple across her face. ]

Nope. I've brought you my company. You're welcome.

[ She takes one swig, then another right after, refrains from rolling her eyes so obviously as not to instigate anything because dignity? What dignity? No. She wasn't here to argue. Faye fumbles with the pack of smokes until she manages to fetch a cigarette for herself—or not. She's holding it out to him instead. ]

For the record, I don't think it was ever my intention to hit you there. Maybe I thought it was your face. I wasn't exactly sober, remember?

Great. Just the thing I need to make this day perfect.

[ His voice is thick with sarcasm. Well, regardless, she's here and she's made herself comfortable. Not much he can do to convince her to leave at this point since she's already decided that what he needs is her company. ]

What the hell would my face be doing down there?

[ There was every chance that she thought he was trying to assault her, which makes sense that she would defend herself that way, but like hell is he going to admit that right now. ]

You owe me for your half of the bar tab, by the way. You couldn't find your wallet until later. Hope it was worth it.

[ She debates between saying something or just tossing the cigarette at him altogether — the latter ends up winning and the cigarette smacks him on the cheek before dropping to his lap. By the time he notices it, she'll have already lit her own and dropped the lighter off to his side for him to grab. ]

Yeah, fine, whatever. Do we have to talk about that right now? I don't even have my device to transfer money.

[ A simultaneous groan/whine and she shifts her weight to lie on her side across most of the bed. She'll move should he decide to quit sitting on the floor but in the meantime... she takes a third swig and a second drag and lets the two vices start working their magic on her. ]

So was it really a closed fist or did it just feel that way? You could be exaggerating and I wouldn't even know it.

[ He flinches when she tosses the cigarette at him and narrows his eyes at her, grumbling a thanks and plucking it out of his lap, lighting it when she deposits her lighter. ]

Fine. I'm still billing you, though, so don't think I'm gonna forget.

[ He watches her make herself right at home on his bed and sighs, shifting over to use it to help him stand. He makes his way over to the bedside table to deposit his cigarette and pick up the towel he left there, wiping down his neck and shoulders. ]

Hammer fist. I came out of the bathroom and saw you getting into it with some guy... I think you thought he had grabbed you or something. I dunno. I wasn't there. But I thought I saw you reach for your gun, so I came and grabbed you from behind. Like this.

[ He mimes a sort of bear hug as if he were grabbing her midsection. ]

Then you did this weird... cat squirm thing and hit me like this:

[ He balls his fist and swings it backward. ]

I went down like a sack of rocks. Guess it musta scared the other guy off, cuz no one gave you any problems after that. You're welcome.

I suppose that does make you the hero of the story.

[ As much as she absolutely loathes that entire concept. It feeds complexes and egos and she isn't sure which of them Spike suffers from — still, give credit where credit is due. He's owed that much. Faye takes another long drink; stops and relishes the burn with a pleased hum. She then abandons the bottle on the bedside table to focus on her cigarette, which is gently clipped between the two fingers she is now pointing at him. ]

But that doesn't make me the villain, alright? I said I was sorry so you can quit looking at me like that.

[ An unfettered pout tugs the corners of her lips and he might catch it just before she looks away. It made her feel bad and she hates feeling bad. She takes an even longer drag and moves to sit upright; scoots over so there's ample room for him to sit. An invitation she's hoping he takes. ]

[ He knows that she has a point, but stubborn Spike doesn't want to admit it. Because then it means he can't be upset anymore, and the tenderness of his genitals definitely still makes him upset. The best she's going to get out of him is a noncommittal grunt as he sits on the edge of the bed. Without a word, he reaches for the ashtray on the bedside table and places it between them to share. ]

So you really do all this just to check on me and apologize, or is there something I missed?

[ He can't even begin to think about figuring her out. She's complicated and fickle, two things he already doesn't like, and temperamental on top of that. She's been surprising him lately just when he thought he'd gotten a lock on her behavior and motives, and he's not sure how he feels about that, exactly. ]

[ Faye takes the opportunity to tap off the tower of ash at the end of her cigarette and shifts her weight again to cross one leg over the other. Her body now angles more towards him but she keeps her gaze low and focused on the ashtray; her expression remaining neutral until she takes another drag. She should've answered him by now but it seems she's still ruminating over what to say. Is there something he missed? That she missed? Why is she here? Why is she staying? ]

I don't know. Yeah. That's all it is.

[ It's a little obvious she's not telling the truth. ]

No. Actually, I want to ask you something.

[ —wait! No. She was thinking out loud just then. Shit. Time to panic as... calmly... as possible. That means tensely sucking down her cigarette in order to iron her nerves, but instead she almost chokes to death on the tremendous amount of smoke she's just unknowingly inhaled. God, if there was ever a reason to quit, it was this agonizing moment right here. Every breath makes her lungs burn and she tries desperately not to start coughing uncontrollably. So she scrambles to reach her vodka, bumping Spike in the process, taking a swig and quickly realizing that was the worst possible choice to make when she swallows it and audibly gags.

The entire thing is probably hilarious from the outside but it becomes even more comical when she manages to reel her composure in by not puking and proceeds to casually ask what she had not originally planned to ask him moments before she almost died. ]

So how's, uh, ahem, how's the whiskey?

[ He's glad she's being polite and using the ash tray instead of being spiteful and ashing onto the floor instead. As the seconds drag on, he raises an eyebrow, finally looking over his shoulder at her, just in case she's got it written on her face like some kind of billboard.

Oh. A question. And... again with the awkward silence. It's clear from her body language and how she's practically murdering her cigarette that something's on her mind. Great. He only winces a little when she bumps into him, but he can't help the full-faced cringe as she flounders about trying -- and failing spectacularly -- to play it cool.

He chuckles a little and shakes his head. ]

You know, you're really bad at this. I thought you were some kind of trained liar or something, Faye.

[ Her little near-death experience there seems to have killed off some of the tension at least. For her own sake. She snuffs the rest of her cigarette out and briefly contemplates her life's decisions. The points that lead her to this moment. And then her thoughts, like a rat in a glue trap, get stuck on the memories of that night — there's no imagery to recall but the heat, and sounds, the way he tasted, and how he felt are all clearly defined and start reverberating heavily through her mind in a span of five seconds.

She shakes it off. ]

Bad at what? Asking questions? Because you're bad at answering them.

[ Faye leans back onto his bed, using her elbows to prop herself up, resuming an unbothered temperament. More avoidance. Typical. ]

No. Bad at pretending like everything's fine. Seriously, you suck at it.

[ He watches her lay back, wondering vaguely if she'd looked something like that when they were in her bedroom last. Instead of being completely obvious, he instead takes a drink from his bottle, welcoming the warm burn in his throat after his workout. He didn't need this. This is why he doesn't get involved with women anymore... It gets too complicated and weird too quickly.

Still, life is short. He of all people should know that. ]

The whiskey's good. Haven't had one this good in a while... Any other questions you think I'm avoiding?

[ Her lips tighten to a thin line and she mentally scolds herself for letting this get so terribly awkward; scolds the booze gods for the vodka not doing its job. She's even tempted to lash out and storm out of there at the risk of making things even more uncomfortable but with luck something keeps her there — exhaustion, maybe, from running from everything, always in fight-or-flight mode. ]

That's not entirely true.

[ Faye takes her headband off and runs her fingers through her hair with a sigh. Fuck it. One mississippi, two mississippi... ]

There was a night that I called you drunk as a skunk and the conversation got personal. I think I asked you if you hated me. Do you remember that?

[ There's fuzz to some of those memories for her but she suspects that he'll have a better recollection. ]

[ How could he forget? It was such a weird conversation on top of it being late and extremely irritating, it was pretty notable otherwise. Rather than respond right away, he sucks at his cigarette and quietly dumps the ash in the tray while he tries to think of the best ways to counter any questions she might have about it or what he said. He was being honest for the most part, he thinks. No reason to stop with it now. Still, what if she reads too much into it or... what if there's a lot to read into it?

He's not sure he's ready for that. ]

Yeah. What about it? You got all existential and said you wanted to be friends and practically cried that we never really had deep conversations or anything.

[ Faye isn't ready either and that's why she's plowing at this going 100 mph. Fuck it, she tells herself, what is there to really lose? If this blows up in her face then at least she can say she tried. She doesn't want to ask the questions that she's positive he doesn't want to hear, let alone answer, but one of them had to be that person, right? They were going to reach this point eventually, right? ]

I didn't practically cr—look, I'm not about to go through that conversation with a fine-toothed comb but if that's how you remember it then okay.

[ She feels weirdly hurt that he'd frame it that way but she doesn't give herself the time to nitpick — there's a point she wants to make. ]

I never mentioned anything since because I wanted you to think I had forgotten about it. Or maybe I just wanted to think I could forget about it. Whatever the case may be, I didn't forget. I remember what you said.

[ I don't want you dead, he had told her. At least that was the part that she had latched to. It was something even when it wasn't the exact words she wanted to hear. She pulls herself up and faces him again, mustering up courage from somewhere, or maybe the vodka has circulated enough to dumb down any common sense. Her body language is unassertive to show she's not on the attack. ]

So I just wanted to know... if I asked you that question again, would the answer be the same?

[ If Faye's approach is to put the gas pedal to the floor when approaching such a touchy situation, then Spike's is to slam on the brakes. Feelings are... complicated, okay? And he's got more than his lion's share to sort through even before she started messing with his head.

He gives a short, half-hearted chuckle at the insistence that she wanted him to forget about their conversation. She didn't know any better, but he couldn't even if he tried. Still, the idea that she remembered his words... that was a little more troubling.

He doesn't move just yet, keeping his back toward her while he sucks passively on his cigarette. ]

Why would it change? Did you think I was lying?

I don't know. I—

[ I need to slow down, she thinks. Looking at Spike, she realizes he's a brick wall right now, and this would only end in a fantastic blaze if she didn't ease up on the pedal. That's not what she wants. She doesn't even know what she wants. Why did she even bother bringing it up? What was meant to be accomplished here? The weight on that imaginary pedal starts to ease up and her doubts emerge to slow her speed even more, just before she would've made impact. Faye forces out a sigh to break up the tightness in her chest and out come the words: ]

No. I didn't think you were lying.

[ Spike says what he means. There might be a lot about him that she doesn't understand but that was crystal clear from the start. Most notably in the way he treated her, referred to her. He wouldn't have bothered if he was only going to fib. But being that way that she is, Faye needs the lines to be more clearly defined. ]

I just... think you can afford to give me a more direct answer this time.

[ When he hears her sigh, he glances back toward her, just to make sure she hasn't made a move to leave. Why did he do that? He was perfectly fine before she intruded on his space, after all, but now that she's here... maybe he enjoys the company? Shit. ]

I don't know how I can get much more clear. I don't hate you. I don't have any reason to lie about that. What would be the point? To make you feel better? You really think I'd put that kind of stock into it? I even kinda like you sometimes.

[ He sighs out a cloud of smoke and ashes his cigarette in the tray. ]

I dunno what else you want me to say about it. I'm not all that complicated. [ a lie. ] And I don't want to be complicated. Especially with someone I live with. Isn't there enough shit to deal with without extra crap getting in the way?

[ Spike will meet Faye's unflinching gaze when he looks back, and she'll choose to hold it for all of ten seconds before his attention moves to something else, though hers will refuse to stray. I even kinda like you sometimes. She feels compelled to laugh out of habit — sometimes he says things that sound almost too uncharacteristic of him to be true and so she treats it as a joke and laughs. It wasn't the same this time. She gnaws at her bottom lip as warmth balloons in her chest and then in a windless voice she tells him: ]

Then let's not make it complicated.

[ He was right in that there was enough bullshit to wade through between them both — making things complicated meant muddying everything else up. She doesn't want it either. It's not much that she's asking for but she realizes that she isn't being very clear right now. That's when the weight on the mattress dips as she scoots closer, carefully sliding the ashtray towards him to make room. ]

I care about you, Spike. [ Oh, how easy that was to say and how impossibly sincere it sounded leaving her lips!! It's a little nerve-wracking but she keeps with the momentum, hoping he'll look at her and see it in her face too. ] And the only way I'll know that you care about me is if you say it. Just those four words. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. [ Simple as that. ]

[ He never asked for any of this. In fact, he respectfully requested the opposite. His own feelings for one woman were almost more than he could handle, but now he was expected to juggle another woman's feelings along with his own toward her on top of his own problems? How the hell was that fair?

Still, her affirmation of her caring about him strikes him in a way he doesn't expect it to, and he finds he actually has to keep his focus on the floor in front of him to stop him from actively exposing his curiosity. He can sense the vulnerability in her voice, and he's not sure he can look at her and keep his head clear. ]

I have a feeling you want me to say more than that.

Like what? I just told you what I want to hear you say.

[ It's frustrating because in her mind, this is as simple as can be and he's actively working on making it difficult. At the same time, she's growing a little restless, defensive even, that he hasn't said it and is preparing to place blame somewhere for things not going smoothly. But what she needs to realize is that Spike is a person with feelings just like everyone else. That she comes on too strong and too fast when she's overpowered by her emotions. Emotions that she has not yet been equipped to deal with. She subtly clenches one of her hands and releases and thinks: please don't make me regret this. ]

Don't play dumb. You know what.

[ He might not be actively trying to be difficult to make her mad, but he does need to think of himself, and his own injured heart. There were many reasons he didn't like to get involved with women, and it seems as though his instinct was right once again. It was always a mess at the end of the road.

But finally after a moment of silent contemplation and another puff from his cigarette he finally speaks up. ]

I care about you, all right? It's... nice to have more than one person have my back now and then.

[ Faye wasn't playing but it's obvious what he's implying. It takes a lot for her not to fly off the handle in outrage and confusion. She wants to know why he went there, why he thinks she expects that, but focuses all that building tension in a clenched fist to keep her anchored so she wouldn't bolt out the door. They've gotten this far. She's gotten this far and still she wants to run. She would've run. And then he says it.

Her silence stretches on after he's finished speaking, enough to cause some alarm when she doesn't speak for longer than was comfortable. The air was so still that the smoke from his cigarette lifts straight up and hangs like an uneven halo above his head and she's staring. If he were to turn around to look at her then, he would catch the fondness as it starts to bleed into her expression. ]

It is nice having someone there. [ It's even nicer being able to admit that out loud. ] Thank you... for being there.

[ It's strange, but he can actually feel the tension in the air lift when she speaks. Some strange new milestone in their already stupid and complex relationship. He's not certain if he's grateful for it, for having something a little more clearly defined between them, or if he's just making things harder for himself. Faye is trouble, and he knows it... but then, so is he, and he's perfectly aware of it.

Still, this leaves some questions in the air that he's not sure he really wants answered. Instead he finishes off the whiskey she brought for him and turns the bottle over in his hand. ]

Same to you. Even if you suck at wrapping bandages, it's better than bleeding out, I guess.

[ Spike, can't you ever just say something nice and leave it at that? ]

[ If he doesn't expect the smack that she delivers to his arm, he's slacking!! It isn't hard enough to render an injury unlike the hit she landed on his junk but he'll get the idea all the same. Faye emits a small sigh of relief and finds herself relaxing a little more now that they've reached the peak of the hill and are coasting down the other side. No other expectations are limiting her from behaving casually and so perhaps the tension in the air begins to dissipate. Surely the alcohol helps in that — she notices Spike has finished his bottle off and so she goes to take another drink of her vodka before setting it back down again, trying to keep up. ]

So... what's the damage like?

[ She leans in against him and peers down at his lap, acting a little too casual now. ]

Can I see?

[ He shouts and hisses when she hits him, grumbling over his shoulder at her. Well, at least that's all the same. He had expected it, but just like every time she hits him, he at least hopes it isn't coming. When she sidles up against him, he raises an eyebrow at her, wondering just what she's doing or what angle she's working. ]

It's sore and bruised. Not a pretty sight. Why would you want to see it?

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thank you for your patience!! ♡

It's always worth it!

smooches u!

♥

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