"Buffy?"
Her door creaked a little as it was pushed wider, and though he didn't need to breathe anyway, Spike held his breath as Riley crossed the threshold, gripping the umbrella just a little tighter. He watched through the slats in the closet door as Riley cast an annoyed look around the room before he pulled out the phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
He could just about hear the rings droning out of the handset before it obviously clicked over to voicemail.
He doesn't know where she is, he smirked silently, curling his lip as Riley left a message.
"Hey, sweetheart, it's me. Thought we were supposed to meet up this afternoon? Let me know where you are. Love you."
Delighted that he knew where Buffy was and Riley didn't, Spike's teeth still grit hard as Riley ended the call with such an effortless declaration. Almost unemotionally, in the same cadence he might say at ease.
Passionless prick.
Riley slumped down on Buffy's bed with a sigh, and after a couple of moments rolled up his sleeve, revealing a large white bandage underneath his Henley.
He ran a finger over the bulge as if testing the tenderness underneath before his phone rang again. "What?" he huffed as he stood. "I know… yeah, I know…Look Miller, I'm not part of the troop anymore, what I do in my own time is my business… I am careful."
Spike furrowed his brow and leaned in just a little further towards the closet door's slats.
"No she doesn't know," Riley continued, rubbing an eye socket with the pad of his thumb like he was already at the end of his rope with the entire conversation. "It fucking isn't cheating, Graham."
Spike sneered at the defensive tone in Riley's voice. Whatever he was doing definitely wasn't innocent, not by a long shot.
Wanker. Poor girl never can pick 'em
Riley swallowed before he cut into the tinny debate coming out of the phone. "It's just bites-" Spike's eyes bulged. Oh, this was far more interesting than he could possibly have guessed. "-I'm not-...no I don't do it back, I'm not stupid! I'm just trying to understand why she let two HSTs do that to her- Yes two. Intentionally."
That made Spike jerk, dangerously close to rattling the dresses and sweaters hanging behind him.
He blamed her. The goddamn piece of shit blamed her.
Oh, you fucker. Spike gripped the decorative umbrella in his hand tight. If I could I'd beat you to death with it… poetic justice in that.
"No, using a different one tonight," Riley continued, cracking his neck. "Had to dust the last one. Yeah, I'll keep in touch, if things go south they're all yours. Bye."
Rage threatened to overtake Spike as he stood all but shivering with it, watching as Riley ended the call and left. He waited, counted the seconds until the front door clicked closed and he could take a deep breath to quell the anger.
This was an opportunity. This was the fucking golden ticket, and it wouldn't do to squander it because he lost his bloody temper.
Just a little bit of forward thinking and soldier boy is history.
The thought was cheering.