see the devil living in those eyes

She believed him a difficult read? That was actually rather comforting to hear since he had begun to wonder if he lost his touch, what with the bizarre situations he kept finding himself in and with the way that people were responding to him lately. Or maybe it was just a testament to the fact he was spending far too much time lately with certain individuals. Maybe he just needed a fresh face to remind him that he was still in control of some things (though less than he'd like to admit). Still, why should he not sound amused? The situation was rather amusing overall was it not? At least from the outsider's point of view. Here comes some poor woman trying to enjoy her night and yet is immediately accosted by not one but two douchebags in what he was sure was a record amount of time. She hadn't even had a drink in her hand before it began (or if she did, it had been just).

He smirked as she 'corrected' his additional tack-on to her toast, not bothering to argue or dispute that correction because it was probably far more realistic. Still, while her toast was many things but Spencer wasn't sure he would use the word "finesse" as one of those descriptions. He tapped the rim of his glass after he set it back on the table, mulling over the antics occurring behind her. It would not appear their wishes were going to come true no matter how it was worded. Maybe he chose the wrong place to get a drink. And it had started so promising. So, future note, he would need to find an establishment that did not cater or attract the bloodsucking type if he wanted something that resembled calm. Then again, it wasn't like his nights out with the Were-types were any better. Oh, and witches seemed to get him trapped into awkward and threatening situations as well. Fuck, his list of places and people to drink with was abysmal. Maybe he should just home and drink his liquor there. His plants had proven themselves calm company that had yet to get him into a fight, threaten him, try to kill him, or any other number of nuisance. Or maybe he needed to increase his pickiness about - Wait no. That wasn't the problem. His being picky was not the problem. The problem was he seemed to somehow attract a particular type of woman - and it was always women - that loved to wrap themselves in dangerous situations like scarves then demand to know what his problem was. More than that, the problem was that HE LET THEM.

You know, he's spent so much time scoffing at the idea of therapy and therapists and all that ridiculous affair but he he should give it half a thought as there was probably something there to be said. But that would imply he had the intention of being a healthy, well-adjusted individual and that was just... so far from the truth. No, he would simply take that revelation, tuck it into its little box, throw that box into a bigger box, then throw that box in a fire before dousing said fire with gasoline and toss some dynamite on there as well. Handle it in the most 'healthy' way possible - by not.

Spencer listened as she answered with her little analogies and metaphors, some he would normally acquaint with hyperbole had he not just watched it as the consequences continued to play out in front of them (or him, due to her seating). Honestly, witnessing what he had, he was actually fairly certain she was rather downplaying the whole situation though perhaps that's just his tendency to assume the worst speaking up. Perhaps he was right though; maybe she had some innate power to attract vampires, specifically the worst of them. If that was the case though perhaps it would be better to call it a 'curse' than a power. That blissful bloated moment of silence - like one right before a terrible storm cracks - was not so long that Spencer got a reply out, anything he was about to say shattered by the shouts and sounds of the brawl turning worse. He rolled his eyes briefly, shaking his head slightly in disapproval. Fucking annoying.

"Hm... I doubt it." Spencer answered, though his eyes were focused on the disaster happening behind her as some new people were involving themselves. Or perhaps they had been pulled in to the mess by having the misfortune of being close. "If you're looking for a calm conversation then there may be more luck by moving indoors... or to another place." Spencer added after a beat, fingertip tapping the rim of his now-empty glass. It was as close an invitation to move as any other, the implication that he would follow her lead left hanging there. If she wanted to move inside, well, it wasn't like he was smoking any more anyway. As for going somewhere else, he would silently admit he was a little surprised he wasn't trying to run or escape as much as the next person. He had every opportunity and right to do so yet here he was, trying to offer a solution to this loud problem at hand.

Or maybe he just really wanted a second drink and wasn't quite ready to give up yet. Not like he would say.

single | warlock | notes: