"Which blonde?" she asks dryly, but then shrugs her shoulders slightly, watching as he places the kings. "Julia?"
If Spike keeps going at this rate, he'll have a whole collection of blondes. She just doesn't get it. But Julia's the only one Wolfwood would've seen at the spaceport.
"Julia was the one who was Gren's arranged backup at the spaceport. Spike was there..." Because he can't leave well enough alone. "Because he and Vicious have history."
Her pause is obvious.
"Had history."
Her eyes move up from the chess table, past the view of his chest the front of his suit affords her, past the stubborn set of his jaw and the cigarette in his mouth, and finally meet his eyes. In some ways, he reminds her a lot of Spike. In other ways, he's nothing like him.
"Don't ask me what kind of history. I don't know."
It's not a lie, though she has some very good guesses.
"Well, you must've caught me in a confessional mood, padre," she adds in a tone that just barely drips sly sweetness, her own cigarette resting between her fingers about an inch from her mouth. "But I guess that comes with the territory for you, doesn't it?"
Whether he's being completely honest with her or not -- and really, who's completely honest out here? -- she still thinks he makes the best priest she's ever met.
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If Spike keeps going at this rate, he'll have a whole collection of blondes. She just doesn't get it. But Julia's the only one Wolfwood would've seen at the spaceport.
"Julia was the one who was Gren's arranged backup at the spaceport. Spike was there..." Because he can't leave well enough alone. "Because he and Vicious have history."
Her pause is obvious.
"Had history."
Her eyes move up from the chess table, past the view of his chest the front of his suit affords her, past the stubborn set of his jaw and the cigarette in his mouth, and finally meet his eyes. In some ways, he reminds her a lot of Spike. In other ways, he's nothing like him.
"Don't ask me what kind of history. I don't know."
It's not a lie, though she has some very good guesses.
"Well, you must've caught me in a confessional mood, padre," she adds in a tone that just barely drips sly sweetness, her own cigarette resting between her fingers about an inch from her mouth. "But I guess that comes with the territory for you, doesn't it?"
Whether he's being completely honest with her or not -- and really, who's completely honest out here? -- she still thinks he makes the best priest she's ever met.