Jet sucked a pair of cigarettes out of the package and lit them. He took one out of his mouth and flicked it at Spike, who caught it in his toes. He'd been working out for a solid hour now. These lulls between bounties could be hell.

Spike transferred the cigarette from foot to mouth without losing his balance. "Why is it we always run out of food before we run out of cigarettes?"

"Beats me."

"Maybe if you weren't trying 'gourmet recipes' all the time...Last time I smelled like garlic mango chutney for a week. Disgusting."

"Maybe if you didn't work out five hours a day you wouldn't get so hungry."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Spike arched backwards and landed a kick two inches from Jet's face. " 'Big Shot' is only on once a day."

"You ever think of improving your mind?"

"Yeah, maybe I could take painting lessons from the Renaissance master we keep in the vent."

"Real funny."

"Or I could learn to make a great garlic mango chutney."

"Ohhh no. You stay *out* of the kitchen. I've seen your 'cooking.' "

"I'm not that bad."

"Face it, kid, you'd starve to death if I didn't feed you."

Spike smiled and turned away. "That may be." He stretched one final time and headed for the door. "I'm going for a shower." He stopped in the doorway, sweat shining on his back. "You coming?"