This piece honestly didn't go the way I thought it was going to and ended up being a humour piece.
Dream on
He was staring at me so hard I thought I was going to pull a rabbit out of my ass.
It was just the two of us this time – Jet had decided it'd be better if we did "something productive with all our energy". This was suggested after I put a hole or two in the couch where the lanky-ugly-blue-leisure-suit's head had previously been firing off snarky remarks. The aforementioned reacted with all the grace of a pig in heels and ended up almost making tomato sauce out of Tomato. We don't need to go into detail over Ed's subsequent actions. Jet threatened to change the locks if we didn't bring home a new couch and parts for Ed. Both of which were not to be swiped, stolen or "found on the corner" – which therefore meant we needed woolongs. So here we were, sitting at opposite ends of a bar and waiting for our bounty. I was keeping my eyes open for the fatso we'd agreed on (he didn't look like a fast runner and was worth a couch, Ed's computer parts and a few drinks each), and Spike was… well he was sitting there staring at me sideways with a smirk. A suggestive smirk. Was he flirting? Sick bastard. What the hell was wrong with him?
His unwavering concentration on my face and the way he kept squinting and smirking. Squint. Smirk. Squmirk. It was unnerving. Thank God fatso finally decided to make an appearance. It took all of thirty minutes to bring him in, get our woolongs, so we went on our way to get parts and a couch. We were leaving the furniture wholesaler (apparently the couch didn't have a long life, just a lot of clones) when I decided to ask.
"Is my face really that mesmerizing?"
"Hn?" – He gave up trying to drag the couch and started kicking it the rest of the way across the cement parking lot.
"My face. It's gorgeous. You couldn't stop staring back at the bar. I don't blame you. I know I'm attractive – "
I stopped to admire my reflection in the store window when I noticed something on my face. The blush I'd slapped on before we entered the bar was not Blushing Bride. It was Frogerella. Spike was already halfway into his Swordfish before he yelled, "I don't know what sort of fantasies Earth girls like to have about themselves, but you should at least pay attention to angry children rummaging through your bag."