12487/Walking alone after dark.

Walking alone after dark.
Date of Scene:	23 November 2020
Location:	New Utrecht, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Spike and Voodoo more or less bumped into each other. The resulting insult fest was entertaining and faded to something almost civil.
Cast of Characters:	Spike, Voodoo

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Spike has posed:
Walking around the city at night isn't the brightest decisions for the good sorts or the bad sorts really. Whatever the case, the Billy Idol proto type walks down the street. Lighting a cigarette, he looks around him now and then to remain aware of his surroundings. This isn't a familiar area for him, but he is a fast study.

Voodoo has posed:
Unlike poor Spike, Priss knows this area perfectly well. She lives here after all, and she's got the day off. Oh and she's still quietly unhappy at a certain Brit figuring her out. So he got a free meal out of it. Okay then.

Rounding a corner, Priss narrows her eyes at the Billy Idol wannabe and balls up her fists. To her, it's the long coat, it's the walk. Oh, she's gonna lay into Constantine.

"You got some nerve" she begins, then she catches sight of who it is. Oh. Er...that's....yeah, good job Priss going off half cocked. Good job, Good job Priss. She doesn't relax her hands yet, though she sighs. "What're you doing out here? It's dangerous out here at night. And I swear you look like a singer" Priss drawls, watching Spike carefully. "You ducking out of performing or something? I mean, oh my God, Billy Idol's in New York and nobody knows?" Priss asks, sounding puzzled by it. Where's the media circus then? Clad in her half top and jeans, Priss isn't dressed for a fight, but she doesn't really need a weapon to hurt anyone. Not when she's just a hybrid mutt of sorts.

Spike has posed:
Walking along, Spike takes a drag on his cigarette and juset gets the exhale out before someone is in his road going on about him having some nerve. Now the responsible sort would let her go when she realizes her mistake. Of course, coupling that with the fact she started questioning his being out in the dangerous area and yet another Billy Idol comparison...poor Pris steppped in it hip deep.

     "You're good. A person usually needs me to talk once before they comment about some nerve love." he replies, that cockney accent and cigarette probably making the Constantine comparsion just that much worse. He takes a drag and exhales over her head, at least not in her face,"I am trying to avoid groupies really. Judging by the surroundings and the groupie look I just blew." Yes. He can be just as insulting and it will take a second for it to sink in that he just insulted her.

Voodoo has posed:
Pris is used to ending up in trouble, really. It's a normal night, but Priss being five eleven means a hell of a lot of trouble to end up hip deep. Oh yeah, his accent and smoking....that's not helping the comparison really, as she folds her arms. "You avoid groupies huh?" she nods, and cocks her head at him. Spike gets a filthy glare from Priss.

"So let me get this straight" she says with a look up to Spike. "You're...who or what/" she asks planting her feet. Hey. He spoke. Fair game.

"You calling me a groupie?" she asks, swearing under her breath in French at him. Hopefully, Spike's not able to figure out what Priss said about his mother. Which boils down to...does your mother know where you are and how you are behaving?

Yes, she's stupid at times, and picking on a vampire isn't really the best of ideas, but when she can get into his head, well...and she's seeing it as her job to protect her block near the hotel, too.

Spike has posed:
"I avoid most people that rate a nuisance as a general rule. No room for an imitator with the master is present." he replies about the avoidance. He takes a slow drag and locks eyes with her, exhaling past her again. In a cockney accented French he replies,"My mother's dead, has been of a century." He doesn't have trouble stepping to someone when they just might be fun to annoy.

Since the two are close to one another, probably getting closer with each barb flung,"Calling you groupie is probably nicer than calling you a nuisance." he replies,"A step above dinner." Of course he has no intention to hurt her so he can get away with what he does next. His face shifts to the demon mask of the vampire long enough for her to get the full effect and then lets them fade back to normal.

Voodoo has posed:
"Nice party trick" Priss says and her eyes glitter a moment before she grows fangs, and keeps her gaze on Spike. Instead, she nudges his mind a little, sort of a hey, I'm here type nudge. "Demon masks don't scare me" Priss says with her fangs now gone. "Not when you've seen the things I've seen" she says folding her arms over her chest. "So. You're not Constantine then? You're...who?" she asks, pausing for a moment as her eyes glint just a little. "And my parents are dead" she says flatly, no emotion to her voice. "So tell me, why're you out here, you walking the streets ,after dinner? I got Chinese takeout if you want it. Maybe if you open your mouth I can throw food in there, it's not like I'd miss it, it's hard to mis when it's open" Priss smarts.

Spike has posed:
Though he isn't easily impressed, Spike does nod at her response. He takes another drag and lets the quiet hang between them a moment. When he does respond the first words were,"Not Constantine. Not Billy Idol." Again he lets the air be quiet a moment. The smirk that touches his face precedes his thought of torturing a victim with a railroad spike in the past. He's a lot better than he once was, but there's still a devil inside,"Just call me Spike."

He looks around the area and shrugs,"I'm not really feeling Chinese tonight. Nobody uses real kittens anymore." He went there. She's earned a little respect, but the obnoxious button was pushed,"I was thinking about something Italian tonight. Take out for me and 'the little woman' as it were. Need those extra carbs." The longer she is seeing his mind, the worse things he can remember, like that younger boxer rellion Slayer he killed for starters. The whole fight and what he did after.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss snaps her fingers, "Spike" she nods. "Just call you Spike, huh? Alright" Priss says and sets her jaw at the idea of eating kittens. Yeah, Spike went /there/ alright, but...Priss has seen things that are just as bad,realy.

Priss pulls back from his mind. It's not she's afraid, no, she's been a part of the WildCATS team. It's more she's found her answers to what Spike is. Still, though....she sighs, gearing up to give him a mental slap. Who knows. It may knock sense into him...

Yeah, right. Priss looks past Spike for a moment, looking back to him Priss can't help but needle Spike. "The little lady? So...she's not a groupie?" she asks. Oh, she is asking for it

Spike has posed:
"Nicer than the things you were thinking about calling me. Bloody well a step up from Constantine or Billy." he snarks back. For a guy that can't actually do her any physical harm he sure does tempt fate. Nobody ever claimed he was smart in such instances. Borderline genius in other places, just not here.

The little lady comment gets a laugh and he shakes his head. He takes one last drag and exhales slowly, not in her face ant yet not over it either. Just kinda lingering between them,"Groupies never last." he replies,"Decided on an independent and free thinking sort that does what she wants rather what someone tells her. You should try it." They are both begging for it aren't they?

Voodoo has posed:
"WHat I was going to call you?" Pris retorts. "If I tried any of that, the burn would set your hair on fire. Is it just gel and spray paint or is there any actual hair there?" she asks. Oh, she's got the upper hand for sure. Since she can punch him and doesn't have to deal with a chip.

"Billy. Huh, nah, I was going to just tell you get a breath mint, and smoking is not making you look attractive or cool. Plus you misplace that lighter and..." she says with a shrug of her shoulders. "You'll be rolling around screaming you're on fire. Though I'm not sure if you'd ignite"

Yes. She did just low key say he's not that hot. Yowch, Priss. "Oh and why would I think you're my neighbor? I mean, you don't drink like a fish and play with matches, or magic do you?" she adds and gestures with a hand.

Spike has posed:
"Typically asshole is the lead insult." he replies,"Well, from the low brow types. The more refined ones tend to be mroe creative." There is a moment of hanging there,"So yes. Asshole was what I expected from you." These two have issues already. SOme might call it foreplay. Others would avoid it totally.

"I've never been called Billy." he comments flatly,"Breath mint doesn't help love. It would imply I had a breath. So now you're just being cheeky. I don't breathe after all." There is a soft laugh and he steps on the cigarette, looking down as he laughs,"Cool means very little from one who means nothing." he adds.

He takes out the zippo and rolls it around his fingers thoughtfully,"Yes. The deadly zippo, known for opening itself, striking itself, and setting the owner on fire." Shaking his head he adds,"I have to admit, you are smarter than you look. Either that or you are good at faking it. Hooker? Stripper?" Nobody playing nice tonight.

Voodoo has posed:
"You say stripper like it's supposed to insult me" Priss says. "Yeah I'm an exotic dancer. What about it. That's like smack talking a pizza delivery guy, or the poor bastard who rings you up in a store. Oh you're a cashier, so what. Would you get insulted if I said you'ree a professional loudmouth who doesn't know when to quit it?" Priss asks, arms still folded as she makes a 'hrm' noise. "So you don't breathe. You talk. Answer me that one" she says and has a Cheshire Cat like grin, like, ha, I just got one over on you, Spike!

Priss keeps her gaze on Spike. "You know, I'm curious. What's your deal, Spike. You got this lady of yours, yeah? But you've done a lot of bad things and you said you've not gott a soul. So you this I am such a bad boy all the ladies want me, or you want to make amends cause you realize how screwed up your life is? Believe me, Spike. I've been there. I've done things I ain't proud of, and I gotta live with the results. It sucks, don't it? Trust me, I know a bit of what you're going through" she says. See. She'e's just an empath like that. God hel her and all that.

Spike has posed:
"As a general rule, stippers and hookers alike are good at presenting themselves stronger and more overtly than the average person." Spike replies with a snort,"I don't have qualms with strippers or hookers. Merely making a point." See he can do that sort of thing too. If I knew when to quit I'd be the kind of dead that doesn't get up and annoy folks who start verbally berating him due to mistaken identity." She did more or less start it after all.

He considers her question and crosses his arms,"SO clearly you can see inside my mind on some levels." he replies,"The reality is a little less obvious. A bad boy has a purpose. A want for things to go a certain way. A want for people to be drawn to him. I couldn't care less." He takes out another cigarette and the zippo,"I do try to step better than the mindless monster than I was in the past sure enough. Life sucks so you find ways to make it less so."

Voodoo has posed:
Priss totally started it, yes. Guilty.

"I can see in your head yes. But" Priss scoffs, "You really that much better? I mean, you got this bad boy image so, you got a lady drawn to you. So" she nods, her arms at her sides for the moment, as she scoffs again.

"So, answer me this Spike" Priss says. "How do you cope, then?" she wonders aloud

Spike has posed:
He places the cigarette into his mouth and draws fire from the Zippo he flips to life. He closes it delibreately and puts it into the coat pocket. Not getting set on fire this time,"Most people wouldn't want to stay in my head for long. If you can see in there why should you have a question about me?"

Taking a slow drag, he exhales away again,"I cope with unlife by living how I want, drinking heavily when it suits me, smoking because I enjoy it and it can't kill me, go out during the day because I shouldn't, and I enjoy annoying random people that have easy buttons to push."

Voodoo has posed:
"Thing is, I'm not annoyed, Spike" Priss says. "I'm..." she admits with a raised eyebrow. "I'm intrigued. I want to hear it from your own words to see how you explain it. Now" Priss nods "I'm listening. Yeah I can get in your head but that's too easy...but....I'd rather hear you explain things. I'm all ears" Priss says and grins.

Spike has posed:
He smirks a little and takes a drag from the cigarette,"The lady wants to hear the story of Spike? William the Bloody? That's a rarity. Funny thing. I get the impression I could tell you the worst of stories and it would only make you want to hear more."

Considering he shrugs,"I have a night to myself anyway. If you want to hear the best stories they require bourbon and somewhere other than the middle of the sidewalk. I'm not asking to go home with you or to take you home with me obviously. Is there a good place to get a few drinks around here?"