13360/Evening At The Magic Box

Evening At The Magic Box
Date of Scene:	23 May 2021
Location:	The Magic Box, Sunnydale
Synopsis:	Giles welcomes one guest, and Spike is there too
Cast of Characters:	Rupert Giles, Spike, Mercy Thompson, Faith Lehane

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Rupert Giles has posed:
The evening sky is as clear as crystal. Star watching later tonight is going to be beautiful, but it's a little early yet to give for too many stars to be out. The sun has only just set on Sunnydale. As it's starting to get toward being late, Giles had been puttering around the shop, making sure everything is where it goes. Now, he's sweeping the floors of any dirt or debris that has tracked inside in the last several hours.

As clear as the weather is, it's likely to be cold tonight. Maybe not down to freezing, as it's getting a little late in the year for that, but it's not far from it either. As such, it hadn't really been overly hot during the hottest part of the day. And certainly hadn't been particularly warm when Giles arrived here this morning. As such, his leather jacket is tucked away behind the counter, and he wears a knit sweater of navy blue, tan colored slacks, and his normal loafer type shoes.

He pauses in sweeping and reaches up a hand to lightly slide his glasses back into place, as they'd been heading for sliding right off the end of his nose. Blowing a breath, he goes back to sweeping. A neat little pile is accumulating next to the counter where it's somewhat out of the way of any customers who come in while the shop is still open.

Spike has posed:
Emerging from the back, Spike walked into the Magic Box. The back was his preferred entrance, as it wasn't too far from a sewer access, meaning that he had to spend less time in the daylight. To most vampires, the sun was something to be avoided at all costs. To Spike, it was a mere inconvenience.

Uncharacteristically, he was not wearing his trademark black coat. That one had a hole it in, which still needed to be mended, and so he was wearing a far less flatering black hoodie. At least the hoodie made it easier for him to walk about in the daylight. He just had to make sure it was up, the wind didn't blow it down, and he always kept his back to the sun. No easy feat, but better than the alternative.

He would first look around to see if he could detect any patrons, Scoobies, or if he were very lucky, he might get some time to speak to the ex-Librarian... assuming of course Giles would give him the time and day. He never knew what to expect with Giles. Sometimes he'd be dismissed, sometimes he'd be insulted, and sometimes he'd have a crossbow bolt pointed at his chest. And then there were the times when Giles was angry.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
It's a pretty sky, even without the stars as what it is. The stars will come, though, and it seems to promise to be even prettier when that happens. Though she probably shouldn't have been, Mercy has indulged in baking. She made brownies, both the chocolate kind and a vanilla kind, and some of nuts while some do not. And so it is that she carries a square plastic container which happens to be positioned just so across her right arm, her fingers resting against the side of the container. No doubt in the hopes of hiding the fiberglass cast that's still on that arm -- more specifically, on her wrist.

Her hair is a bit damp and left loose, brushing past her shoulders. She's wearing a blue t-shirt with a plain front and a white cartoon pegasus in flight on the back of it, and a pair of black jeans and black steel toed boots to complete her outfit. She has a jacket, too, though it's a lightweight blue jean affair. She makes her way towards the shop and pauses for a moment to slightly shift the container in order to reach out to the door and pull it open before stepping inside. An errant lock of her hair floofs forward to flop into her face and Mercy eyes it for a moment before deciding to attempt to ignore it. And so she looks past it and steps further inside, a smile tugging her lips as she sees Giles amidst his chores. "Good evening, Rupert," she says, her smile easily returning.

And then there's the other fellow, who came in from the back. Mercy's nose wiggles just a touch, and she tilts her head faintly to one side. Studying a little bit, or perhaps a bit more than that, then offering a small nod before her brown gaze turns easily back to Giles.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Indeed. Then there are the times when Giles is angry. At present... well. He doesn't look angry. Then again, he hasn't seen Spike yet. He doesn't like Spike overly much. Probably because Spike is a vampire and vampires? They aren't people. Vampires are monsters to be killed. Not to be liked or treated like people. Spike is an anomoly and Giles doesn't care for anomolies either.

He pauses in his sweeping, as though he senses /something/. And he looks up only to see Spike coming from the back. His eyes narrow. "What are you doing here?" His tone isn't overly friendly, but it isn't overly hostile either. And... well. Giles sounds more curious than annoyed. That has to be a good sign, right?

If there's one thing Mercy can be counted on to do, that's to bring goodies she's baked. Despite that, Giles isn't distracted for more than a second or two by the container the woman carries. "Mercy," he greets. "What did you do to yourself? You weren't broken the last time I saw you." Broken, because a cast can mean only /one/ thing.

Spike has posed:
"What, no pleasantries, no welcome to the Magic Box, no how may I help you sir, yes, you may be English, but they expect customer service on this side of the pond," Spike said, sounding different, and yet not unlike Giles. Both came from the same city, and yet, they had very different accents.

"Right, straight to the point. It's about Buffy. I need to know about the White Court." He didn't recognize the woman, nor did he seem to care she was here. If she was in the business, she would know, and if she were a lookie-loo, it would be above her head.

Then he dropped his bombshell theory, "I think Tommy boy is making her sick, and I want to know if it's normal for them?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
The fact that baked goods are usually toted along with her is a thing that those who know her would know is a normal thing. Mercy bakes, and she likes to share the results. It's a thing. The contents of the container were just baked earlier that day since fresh is often best for these sorts of things. She steps deeper within the shop, over to the counter in order to place the container there. The cast on her arm gets a brief glance, and then she turns her attention back to Giles.

"Ah, well... I had a bit of a disagreement with a trap that I found in the woods a couple of weeks ago," Mercy admits, a bit sheepishly. "It's just a little bit broken," she comments. A little bit? Really? Broken is still broken! She wiggles the fingers that stick out of the cast, and then she lifts one of her shoulders in a small gesture. "It's better than it was. They want to remove the cast tomorrow to check the wounds under it," she adds. She lifts her left hand to catch the stray lock of hair, slipping it behind one of her ears.

Mercy's gaze shifts towards the other fellow again, listening as he speaks and frowning a little bit. "Why do you think Buffy is sick?" she asks, curious. Then she pauses a moment before giving her head a brief shake. "Sorry, that might not quite be any of my business, but Buffy's a friend," she adds.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Their accents are indeed quite different. Where Giles has an upper class British accent, Spike has a Cockney accent. The influences of Scottish, Irish, and Welsh can be heard much more clearly in Spike's than in Giles'. "No," replies Giles. "No pleasantries. No welcome. No tea. No customer service. You're not a customer. You're a vampire." Giles grins, though it's far more of a baring of teeth than it is a grin.

"Business, is it?" He narrows his eyes at Spike and tightens his grip on the broom he holds. The tip of the handle.. it is a little bit pointed-ish. "The White Court? They're parasites more than vampires," he says. He'd done some research after the conversation he'd had with Thomas Raith at McAnnaley's pub. "They feed on the energy of lust, for the most part. Buffy should be alright, so long as he doesn't take too much at once. If she's getting sick, it might be a combination of things. Or it could be Thomas." Now, Giles looks troubled. He leans a bit on the broom, eyes going distant, before he abruptly turns away to walk toward the counter and the computer there.

Giles raises his brow at Mercy, pausing as he gets to the far side of the counter to look back at her. "A trap. What were you doing putting your hand in a trap?" He sounds a little confused, but then, he's half distracted worrying about Buffy. He continues the few steps to the computer and taps the keyboard to wake the screen up. He glances up. "Wounds?" And back to the computer. "Yes. Why do you think Buffy is sick? Is she acting oddly?"

Spike has posed:
The irony of it was that Giles' natural accent was cockney, whereas Spike's was received pronunciation, but for reasons, both had worked hard to adopt the other's intonation. Nodding at the woman, who Giles had called Mercy, and said she was a friend of Buffy's, Spike continued "I don't have anything concrete. It's the little things. In the subway, she didn't seem as fast or alert as normal." He had to take a piece of rebar through the chest to save her. "She's been tired, a lot. Collapsed at my place after patching me up." Then, anticipating looks, he put up hands, "nothing happened." And as he continued to recite a few other random minor observations, he would add in, "and, she now has a sizeable streak of grey hair. I wouldn't mention that to her. She's awful defensive about it."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
There's a quirk of one of her eyebrows at the exchange of words between Giles and Spike, a bit of curiosity showing in her eyes for a moment. It's a different sort of thing to witness. Her gaze flicks to the other fellow at the information of him being a vampire. That's... interesting. Her nose wiggles a little bit as she studies him for a lingering moment. Then her attention shifts back to Giles, and she's quiet in those moments. Which might be slightly out of character, but she's trying to mind her business at the same time. And manage being curious, which is sometimes a challenge in and of itself!

For the moment, Mercy listens, and her brow furrows a little bit as she does. She doesn't know a lot about the White Court, to be able to have much in the way of anything useful to offer. She blinks a little bit then at Giles and the question that he poses her. "Ummm...," she begins, considering that a moment, "I'll tell you the story later. It's not overly interesting. And yeah, wounds... they kind of happen when a trap snaps closed around a wrist." That information likely doesn't help a lot! But Mercy's of a habit where she generally doesn't lie because a lot of folks she knows can tell when she does. So, it's the truth that she gives.

Then she looks back to the other British fellow. "Maybe she knows what's making her sick?" she suggests, raising an eyebrow slightly. Then she lifts her free hand to push her hair back from her face. "Sorry. I'm fairly sure we haven't met before," she says, glancing briefly to Giles and then back to him. "I'm Mercy Thompson," she offers.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles listens to the list of reasons listed, and nods slowly. "That sounds like a problem, I agree." He takes a breath. "The problem is, I'm not sure what to do about it. Short of killing the one responsible, I'm not sure how to keep Buffy away from him. You're probably right in that it's his cause." He shakes is head and steps away from the computer. He leans againt the counter instead, and looks lost in thought as he thinks about what to do in this particular situation.

Giles comes out of his thoughts long enough to look at Mercy and raise a brow at her silence. "Earth to Mercy," he says. "Where's Mizz Twenty Questions gone?" His lips twitch slightly with amusement at one of his nicknames for her. He only nods about hearing the story later. "I'll hold you to that," he says. He thinks about traps and then nods again. "Yeah. They have sharp teeth usually, right? Wounds make sense."

Giles looks between his guests and lifts a hand to rub his forehead. "Right. Sorry. Forgot. Mercy, Spike. Spike, Mercy." He doesn't offer any more than that. He does look over at Spike, though. "Have you considered asking her if she knows or has noticed the symptoms?"

Faith Lehane has posed:
Ding Ding.

The sound of the little bell on the door announced they had a customer! Only, it was wrong. Probably. It was Faith instead, showing up in a pair of black leather pants with a black t-shirt. Her favorite denim jacket over the top with all her toys hidden inside it. On her feet were heavy boots with a clunky heel, steel toed so no stomps of her toesies during fights.

"Didja miss me?" she called out by way of greeting, bright smile on her face. Not likely they did but it was that or 'what's up Bitches' and she suspected Giles might be offended by that.

She walked further into the shop and paused, seeing two familiar faces and one not.

Spike has posed:
"Spike," he offered to the polite woman who asked his name. It sounded like he was being curt, offering only a nickname, but Spike was the only name he had gone by for the better part of two hundred years. It was kind of a trademark of the Whirlwind. Angel or Angelus, Darla, Drusilla, they didn't really use two word names. Hell, Angel didn't even like people to know his family name, and as far as Spike knew, Darla wasn't her real name, and Angel didn't know it.

"Yeah?" Spike asked as Giles agreed with him, and then he let out a more enthusiastic, "yeah!" as he was right. It was rare for Giles to agree with him. Spike would have to commit this to memory, maybe make a monument to it. On this day, in the year of our lord two thousand twenty nine, on the twenty-third day of May, Rupert Giles agreed with Spike...

"The girl might not take too kindly to killing her boyfriend," Spike mused. In regards to had he broached the subject, Spike said, "yeah, I asked her if she had noticed the hair. She got very defensive, suggesting she was going prematurely grey from stress, and stormed out of her bedroom." He probably should have ended that sentence three words earlier. What was Spike doing in her bedroom?

"Slayer," Spike said to Faith, not being too familiar with her. He was a bit wary of Faith. Buffy would never dust him unless he forced her to. Faith was an uncertainty. And he was still hurt. Beneath his shirt, there were signs of bandages over his chest, near his heart.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
There's a blink, and a shift of her attention to Giles, and Mercy tilts her head a little to one side. "Well... I mean... you can't really just go and kill him," she says, looking to the other fellow for a moment before looking to Giles. "I mean, you don't know that it -is- him that's causing it, it could be something else. Right?" she suggests. Then she's quiet a moment again. "And, well... isn't there a certain measure of consent? So woudn't it be a thing that she's choosing? Or something. Like doesn't there need to be permission or something, or is that not a thing? I... have things to learn still," Mercy says, a bit sheepishly.

She looks to Giles, then she softly clears her throat and ducks her chin a bit, some colour coming to her cheeks. "Sorry, I think it's more the not knowing which questions to ask and not really having a solid base of information to start with. Or something," she says, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips. "And yes, definitely do... and yeah, they're sharp, and... umm... well, sometimes rusty, but that's okay, they said it was doing fine last time it was checked," Mercy adds, giving a nod to Giles. She definitely intends to tell him about what happened, she just likely doesn't want to publically air it.

"If she's being all defensive about having a streak of grey hair then it seems plausible she's noticed at least that part of the symptoms, if they're symptoms and not from other things. Could it be magic of some kind?" she wonders, one of her eyebrows quirking a little bit. And if there was something more she was going to say then it goes unsaid at the sound of the bell at the door. She turns her head to look in that direction, a flicker of curiosity showing in her eyes. There's a cast on her right arm -- the wrist, specifically -- and it's the fibreglass sort. She takes a moment, briefly looking over the other woman, but she doesn't move from where she's standing near the counter, and near to the container of treats that she'd brought.

Her attention turns to Spike, and there's a smile that comes to her features. "It's nice to meet you, Spike," she says, giving a small nod. She seems to mean it. He might be a vampire, but it's not as though he's bitten her or done anything to make it be different. Then she tilts her head a bit to one side. "So... I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering it, but... I might as well be the one that asks... why were you in Buffy's bedroom?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Mercy often gives in to it.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Customer? Customer. Who's got the customer?? Giles might be offended by being called 'bitches', yes. Or he might laugh. What he does now, however, is nod with a smile. "I did, in fact," he says. "You're just in time. We might need to do an intervention.

Indeed it was rare for Giles to agree with a vampire. Any vampire. Not just Spike. So, better mark this occasion with something. "Nnneh. And that's why I wasn't seriously considering killing him. Besides, Thomas is actually pretty nice to talk to." It's true though. Faith might well go for Spike's throat. And Giles? He might just stand by and watch.

Giles grimaces at Mercy. "Technically, he's a vampire. Technically, we could just go and kill him." He grimaces again, this time at Spike and mutters half under his breath, the words just audible. "Why must I find myself starting to like some vampires?" He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. "You're right, Mercy. It could be something else. I hope it's something else, but... the timing is awfully coincidental."

He shakes his head. "With a vampire, other than being granted permission to enter a home, some of them, no permission is needed to feed." He nods, somewhat absently, at Mercy's wound doing fine. "Really, it could be anything, but the likely cause is Thomas. I'm hoping I'm wrong." He hasn't even made any motions toward the snacks. Like... none at all.

And then Mercy asks /that/ question. Giles coughs, and turns his blue eyes onto Spike, and fixes him with a look. He waits like that for an answer to the question. His expression says to be veeeery careful of the answer. Not that Buffy wasn't a grown woman to make her own decisions, but still. Vampire!

Faith Lehane has posed:
"Oh hell no. I don't do interventions." Faith shakes her head negatively. The fact they are openly talking about Slayers and vampires means the stranger in the room is in the know. So that allows her to respond to Spike with, "Bloodsucker."

Then there is a ringing sound from her phone. 'I need noise, I need the buzz of a sub, need the crack of a whip, need some blood in the cut'. She pulls it out but listens long enough to hear all the lines before holding up a index finger to the others and turning back around to walk right out the door as she answers.

"You got a location for me? About fucking time."

Ding Ding. And she's gone as quickly as she arrived.

Spike has posed:
"Is he?" Spike asked, "vampires don't usually make a habit of walking around in the daylight, 'cept me, and he does it without a blanket, hoodie, or generous helping of I don't know, SPF-1000. The way I hear it, he doesn't drink blood either. Just like, the essence, soul, life force mojo. He's more of an incubus, or is that succubus? I always get those two confused.

With Giles grimacing and saying he's developing an appreciation for some vampires, Spike helpfully offers up, "well, if it helps you sleep at night, I did kill two slayers in my time." He also managed to time the mention of that to when Faith walked in. You'd almost think it was deliberate. Although he wasn't looking at Faith with the eyes of a killer.

Mercy would have to ask that, just when he and Giles were getting along so well. A sly smile came across his lips, as he thought about causing a ruckus, "her mum was home, the little bit too, and Buffy wanted to talk in private. You'll have to ask her why she wanted to do it in her bedroom." Oh Spike, he said words that could infuriate Giles, but in a tone that was matter of fact.

Before anyone can likely ask what Faith was on about, she was heading out the door, as quickly as she arrived. Turning to Giles, Spike asked, "so, are you her watcher too, or are you still waiting for the boys back home to send a replacement?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Oh, okay... I didn't really think that you were," Mercy says, giving a nod to Giles. "I've met him, a few times," she adds. Then she lifts her left hand, pulling her fingers through her hair, an attempt to try to get her hair out of her face. This, perhaps, is why she so often wears her hair in braids. It keeps it more contained.

She blinks, and then tilts her head a bit to one side, studying Giles. "I'm sure that technically all vampires could be hunted down and killed, but... I'm also guessing that not all vampires are bad and deserving of being killed. Maybe that some of them are probably helpful or useful. And that makes things complicated... I'm guessing, at least. But it seems a fair guess," Mercy says, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It makes sense to her, at least.

"They've been boyfriend and girlfriend for a while, so I'm not sure that I'd really call it that coincidental. It would be more coincidental if it had started sooner to when they first started going out, wouldn't it?" Mercy asks, curiosity in her voice. Then she considers part of what Giles had said, and she gives a small nod. "Ah, right... so that's a good thing to know, then," she says, in regards to permission. There are a few different types of vampires, and... well, as far as she knows, there's likely different rules for each type. There probably are.

Mercy quirks a grin at Giles' cough, because it was rather deserved with the question she'd asked. She glances over towards the woman who had entered, who leaves again, and one of her eyebrows quirks up a bit. "That was... odd," she says softly. Then her attention turns back to Spike and Giles. Watching the pair of them. "I'm not sure that I'd be bragging about having killed Slayers...? It doesn't seem like a very good idea," she says. "Especially if you want to, y'know... keep on living. Or unliving. Or whatever the term for it happens to be," she adds. "That makes a certain amount of sense, actually," she says, giving a nod to Spike. It really does.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Indeed, the stranger is in the know. As it were. He raises one brow at the ring tone on Faith's phone, then waves at her as she picks up her phone and leaves as quickly as she'd entered. Giles' eyes go back to Spike at this point, and he nods. "Yes, he is. He's a different type of vampire than you are, but he's a vampire." Another nod. "Incubi and succubi are the same ... species, if you will. Incubus is the male form. Succubus the female. But he's not quite an incubus either. Which is why I called him a parasite. If you wish to get technical, he's a human with a parasite.

That brow raises again, and this time it's directed at Spike. "Of course you did. You're a vampire. I imagine at that point it was kill or be killed. Or maybe to eat. Neh," he mutters, shaking his head. He knows it was deliberate. That doesn't make it any better! And yet, disgusted he might be, but Giles doesn't seem to have been infuriated at all. "Interesting."

He glances after Faith, and shrugs. "Little bit of both. For the moment, I'm her Watcher." He nods to Mercy's obsevation. "Yes. That makes it more difficult. Take Spike here. He's occasionally helpful or he would have been dead long ago." He makes a negative slashing motion with his right hand, and shakes his head. "No. Because he sucks life force out of her. It would have taken time and it hasn't been that long. Maybe it takes time for the effects to accumulate. He waves his right hand again, a dismissive gesture this time. "That was Faith. She keeps busy."

Spike has posed:
Spike decides to speak up when Mercy asks about vampires, "there are what you would call 'good' vampires," and he did the air quote as he spoke, beginning to light up a cigarette. Good luck stopping him Giles. "But mostly, they aren't real vampires. You see, when you become a vampire, you lose your soul, and it gets replaced by a demon. The same demon infects us all. His blood is in our veins. You don't feel remorse. You don't feel pity. You don't feel compassion."

"Humans live lives of repression. Scared to ask the boy or girl they like out on a date. Scared of what their parents would think. Scared about the mortgage, scared about their taxes, scared about taking a new job, scared about everything. People are always holding back their true selves. When you become a vampire, you lose all inhibitions. Sometimes it takes a while to get used to it, to manage it, but vampires are all about me."

Spike moves about the room while speaking, and ends up taking a seat on the study table, feet on the chair, "it takes a bloody strong will to fight that. It's very rare. Good vampires are so rare that they are named. We know them all. We can count them on one hand, actually."

"Angel got himself cursed with a soul by gypsies. He's been brooding ever since. Blade, well his mum got turned while he was still in the womb, or some such. I heard he drinks some special serum instead of blood. Deacon Frost got a blood transfusion from a vampire. He didn't lose his soul to the demon like the rest of us. Bastard lost it all on his own. He's not one of the good ones, but he made a good one." Spike put emphasis on the 'made' part.

"Hannibal King. Bitten by Frost, far as I know, King's never eaten a human being. Morbius, some science project, sorta like Frost, but more techie. Maybe a mutant or something. I don't know. And me, well, I got a chip in my head from some soldiers boys and their crack team of scientists. I can't hurt people, no matter how much I might want to. I mostly help the scoobies out of boredom. See, I can still hurt vampires and demons. But these White Court folks, they're not like any vampire I ever met."

With Giles admitted that Spike can be helpful, Spike adds, "Aw, Rupert, I didn't know you cared."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"It always seems to have a way of getting more complicated instead of the alternative," Mercy says, sounding slightly amused at that. It's not as though magical creatures are strange to her, given that she sort of is one herself. "So... parasite variety of vampires, and Dracula-blood-sucking type of vampires, and probably more kinds that I don't know about yet," she comments, one of her eyebrows quirking up a bit.

Mercy tilts her head a touch to one side, her attention turning to Giles as she listens to him. Then she gives a nod. "It likely was the kill or be killed sort of situation... and, well... sort of a 'the past is the past' and all, too," she comments, her brow furrowing briefly. Then she looks to Spike, and she raises an eyebrow. "So do you kill other vampires, then?" she asks. And with the question asked, her attention turns again to Giles, and she nods, mentally fitting a couple of puzzle pieces together. "That makes sense, for it to be a gradual sort of thing. Though the last time I saw Buffy, which was only a couple of weeks ago, there wasn't a grey streak. So that would seem to indicate that there was... well, for lack of a better way of putting it, a larger chunk that was taken for some reason or purpose," she says in a thoughtful tone.

Mercy turns her attention back to Spike, studying him. "Is it just a way of rebelling against the demon inside? How do you know it's the same demon? What do you feel? Is it just hunger all the time? If you can't hurt people, what do you live on?" she asks. And there would be a fair example of Mercy's curiosity, right there. "If people live their lives scared all of the time then they're not really living," she comments. "So you help in order to pass the time," she says, an observation. "To have a purpose?" she suggests, tilting her head a bit to one side.

Mercy takes a moment, glancing towards Giles as Spike tells tales about the other good vampires that have -- and maybe still do? -- exist, listening and taking in the information. It's interesting, and stuff she didn't know before.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Rupert Giles looks up toward the ceiling and the heavens, but doesn't try to stop the vampire from lighting up a cigarette in here. He knows it's pointless to say anything about it. But what Spike says is interesting, and Giles nods along with him, agreeing with, and backing up, the fact of what the vampire is saying. Again the nod, about the so called 'good' vampires being named. It's true.

"That's because the White Court folks haven't lost their souls, as far as I can tell. If I'm remembering what Thomas told me, they're born with their demons, but they don't wake up until a certain age. And then, in exchange for feeding off life energy and lust and such, they get strength, speed, slower aging, et cetera."

This time he really does roll his eyes. "You're daft. Of course I care. Sometimes. Usually when there's popcorn involved." Giles nods Mercy's way. "Yes. Probably more kinds than even the Watchers know about." He nods thoughtfully to Mercy's observation. "That sounds about right. Or the feedings are accumulative, and the more he feeds, the faster the toll it takes later." He draws a breath. "A little here, a little there, probably wasn't a problem. He might be having to take bigger bites to satisfy the demon."

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair again. "Neh." He chuckles a moment later at Mercy's questions all in a row directed at Spike. "See? Mizz Curiosity." Giles shakes his head and turns to head toward the stairs leading to the upper level. "I wonder..." He trails off, not finishing whatever he'd been going to say, even as he's moving up the stair ladder thing. Whatever the other two are talking about now, he pays it no mind. His head is already probably on the problem of Buffy and finding a solution.

Spike has posed:
Spike listened to what Giles had to say, agreed with him, even laughed at the personal jibe, but Mercy kept asing him so many questions that he ended up dealing with her, letting the former librarian revisit his roots. "Well yeah, pretty much almost exclusively these days." Spike answered Mercy's question about whether or not he killed other vampires, then moving on to her next questions. "Pigs blood mostly, butchers are great for that, and when I'm lucky, blood bank..." Looking at Giles, "but the Scoobies kind of frown on that one." Then he moved on to her next question, this time about vampire family trees. "It's the same deal as all humans, if you go back far enough, are related, all vampires, real vampires, go back to the same demon. The vampire Adam, if you will, sired the vampire Cain, Abel, and Seth, and they sired, and so on, until you get to current generation."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
"Well, that does sound rather like the definition of what a parasite would do, where the White Court vampires are concerned," Mercy says, giving a nod to Giles. Her tongue flicks out, damping her lips briefly, and the fingers of her left hand slip into a pocket of her jeans. Whether or not she would make that sort of trade off, she doesn't say. She's... not entirely human, so... who is she to judge others for what they are?

"One day, I'm going to test that popcorn theory," Mercy comments, quirking a grin. And it'll probably involve a lot of questions when she does! "It could be cumulative. It makes sense. Though it seems to be a lot of speculation, to start with," she muses. "If the demon needs bigger bites, then I'd be wondering why. What's it giving him that's extra or why's it hungrier now," she adds, then gives a small shake of her head. It's a puzzle, and she feels like she's missing pieces to it.

"It's not my fault, with the question. They just...," she pauses there, withdrawing her left hnd and gesturing slightly, "they just happen! I'm naturally curious, what can I say?" There's a bit of a sparkle to her eyes at that. She's very definitely naturally curious! Then she raises an eyebrow slightly, watching as Giles takes his musings upstairs. Mercy turns her attention to Spike, and she tilts her head to one side briefly before giving a nod. "Pigs blood... that makes sense. They use pigs in those CSI labs for experiments where they need to figure out what happened to people. Human stand ins, and such," she says, a smile quirking her lips. "I can see why they'd frown on the blood bank, given what it's used for," she adds.

"Thank you for being willing to put up with my questions, I know I ask a lot of them, and I appreciate the information. It's been good to meet you, and to talk with you, Spike," she says with a smile. "Anyways, I ought be headed home, and I've a bit of a walk to get there... they kind of frown on driving with a cast," she comments with a grin. "I'm sure that I'll see you again, though. Take care," she offers with a smile. Then she turns to start to head towards the door in order to head out. The story of the trap will, it seems, have to wait until next time. But she'll totally blame that on Giles since he went upstairs first!

Spike has posed:
"You put a bit of weetabix, to give it texture, and some cinnamon for taste, and it's not bad. Human blood is better, but you get used to it..." And then Spike groaned at what has become of his existence. He shook his head, wanting to put out his cigarette, but there were no ashtrays, so he would put it out against his hand, showing some semblance of respect for Giles and his place of business. Once it was out, he would get up, and toss the rest of it into the waste bin, though had the good sense to double check that it was out before he dropped it in the bin. "Don't mention it. Always glad to help." Really, what the devil was getting into him? He needed to eat someone, and fast. Spike would let her leave, sticking around for a few moments, before going out the back, as he had come. He would however, track Mercy down, providing she was actually walking, doing his best to remain down wind, since she had smelt Buffy on him, and make sure she got home all right. He wanted to help her out, but he didn't want Giles or the Scoobies to think he was doing it.