[ People (namely Buffy's friends) tend to underestimate Spike's intelligence. He thinks, meanwhile, that he's maybe underestimated Alicent's.
And she's likely clocked that he's receptive to being bossed around by a smart woman. Spike wets his lips, considering a second cigarette but holding off, for now, and tips his head in affirmation. ]
Sure. Far as we know, at least. [ Access is sometimes just a matter of poking around the right (or wrong) place. ] Have to imagine someone's asked them questions before now, yeah?
Certainly. And they never answer. They don’t trust us, you see.
[ she lets that sit. taps ash from the end of her cigarette with a perfect pointed nail. (sure to be ruined by her own hand, if this arson prompts trials like those held in the killing game. if she — if they — must sacrifice one for the sake of many.) ]
But Portia is beginning to trust me. It’s a fragile thing, of course, and I’m loathe to forsake it, when it could benefit us all. [ she looks up at spike through her lashes, studying him. ] Do you understand my position?
You can't cause a ruckus. But you need someone else to.
[ Someone who's not afraid to draw the ire of the mob, as it were. Spike thinks of Nat--who's already openly confessed what she did to him, and half-confessed behind a mask to the rest of the house.
Nat's easy to read. So's Buffy. Alicent's different, careful and calculating. Spike finally pulls the carton of cigarettes from his inner coat pocket, plucking one out with thumb and forefinger. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
And she's likely clocked that he's receptive to being bossed around by a smart woman. Spike wets his lips, considering a second cigarette but holding off, for now, and tips his head in affirmation. ]
Sure. Far as we know, at least. [ Access is sometimes just a matter of poking around the right (or wrong) place. ] Have to imagine someone's asked them questions before now, yeah?
no subject
[ she lets that sit. taps ash from the end of her cigarette with a perfect pointed nail. (sure to be ruined by her own hand, if this arson prompts trials like those held in the killing game. if she — if they — must sacrifice one for the sake of many.) ]
But Portia is beginning to trust me. It’s a fragile thing, of course, and I’m loathe to forsake it, when it could benefit us all. [ she looks up at spike through her lashes, studying him. ] Do you understand my position?
no subject
You can't cause a ruckus. But you need someone else to.
[ Someone who's not afraid to draw the ire of the mob, as it were. Spike thinks of Nat--who's already openly confessed what she did to him, and half-confessed behind a mask to the rest of the house.
Nat's easy to read. So's Buffy. Alicent's different, careful and calculating. Spike finally pulls the carton of cigarettes from his inner coat pocket, plucking one out with thumb and forefinger. ]
What've you got cooking?