paradisa | 73;

Entry tags:

spike spiegel

73;

[The journal has been relatively quiet, considering how the castle seemed to be going through its usual mood swings. Unusually strong for its usual mood swings, but still, Spike noticed. But he doesn't want to talk about the castle, or death, or magical-catastrophe-whatever, and he can't blame anyone else for feeling the same way. He just wants something to eat. Preferably something that requires no wishing (seeing how that's been backfiring lately), or effort of any kind.

Which is why he's making a bowl of cereal in the kitchen in middle of the night.

After a fair amount of staring dead-eyed into the depths of the fridge, he dictates to whoever might be hoarding out there.]

We're out of milk.

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We could be the special ones.

Are we?

You and Joshua certainly.

We have both been here for a while.

You must be among the oldest.

He has me beat by a long shot.

[As long as she doesn't count the times he lived here that he has no memory of, which he really doesn't like to do. It gets confusing.]

Five years for him. For you?

[ Or is it longer? He never gave a straight answer. ]

[Spike didn't actually know how long of a shot it was, but he's sure that it came up at some forgotten point.]

Less.

Already it feels like a lifetime for me.

[Now he's distracted, trying to think of how long it has been. Which he generally doesn't like to do.

Brock would have known.]

It has its favorites.

If what they say of the castle is true, we must both be tempestuous.

[Big words, Lucrezia. But he can infer what she means.]

There's a reason people who get too content tend to go home.

Are you so discontent, Spiegel?

I guess I don't have a lot of reason to be.

You are out of milk.

That's just my luck. [He sighs, for effect.] You really can't call it cereal without the milk.

What is a cereal?

[ She may have seen Joshua eating some, once, but they were called something else. Mostly Froot Loops. ]

Disappointing, mostly.

[He's close to testing if wishing for real food is going to set him on fire again...]

Less or more so than a steak?

It's not fair to compare them.

What of wine?

It's a bad idea to use it as a substitute. Not everything mixes as well as you'd think.

Nonsense. Try it then tell me otherwise.

[Another time, and he wouldn't be opposed to spiking his cereal. These days, he can't even enjoy that...

What a depressing thought.]

I think we ran out of wine first.

The maids will be waiting by the door.

[ That's her invitation. ]