054;

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike finally reached his limit. Well, his new limit; the one he set after he reached the last one. The castle took it a few steps too far when it started making him fall in love with random residents, then followed it up by screwing with his memories and giving him new ones that would bring him nightmares for the rest of his life. There's no way he's going back there. -- He's currently lying on a bench in town, where he's been sleeping for more than a week just to avoid anything related to the castle. Which has worked, but as a consequence gave him an obscenely sore neck. No plan is ever perfect.

He takes off his jacket to use as a pillow when he notices the journal still stuck inside it.]

You again. [He could have sworn he threw it into the duck pond on his way out. But since he's stuck with it, that could be a sign... Maybe there's another reason he's having trouble sleeping. Against his better judgment, he sits up and rubs his neck. Then he finally opens the journal and pulls out something to write with.]

---

(People he was in lo-...)

[-ve with...... His pen stops halfway through writing the filter and his expression turns sour.]

... Eugh.

---

[Turns out, he still doesn't want to deal with it. Scowling at himself, he uses the journal to block the sun from his eyes and lies back down on the bench.]

Whatever.

Comments

[whatialways_do]

[shrugs]

Maybe.

[gottaknockhard]

[Ugh. Listen to him going on about it. Like that loss started him down some awful path of over-sharing and being honest.]

Same old story anyway.

[whatialways_do]

It's just something we gotta deal with.

[gottaknockhard]

Yeah.

[Because he hasn't had luck doing something about it. Hence the plan to sleep his life away.]

[whatialways_do]

[she's getting that]

So sleeping out here is your way of dealing?

[gottaknockhard]

That's what I've got so far.

[whatialways_do]

Still think you should opt for a room at the inn. Or at least crash on Jo's couch.

[gottaknockhard]

I think I've worn out that couch by now.

[He manages to say it with a hint of a smile though. (Because he's fine, clearly.)]

[whatialways_do]

Fair enough.

[there's a beat]

I think Sam's got a couch in the Pie Hole.

[gottaknockhard]

I might scare away his customers.

[whatialways_do]

I think he does that all on his own. They think he's the one baking.

[gottaknockhard]

[It's not like he's above sleeping in a pie shop. And Spike has never had any grudges against Sam, so he isn't entirely opposed.]

Probably less bugs.

[whatialways_do]

And you get out of the weather.

[gottaknockhard]

Makes it harder to work on my tan.

[whatialways_do]

Too much sun is bad for you anyway.

[gottaknockhard]

[He should just agree to go inside, but he can't seem to get up the energy.]

What isn't?

[whatialways_do]

So you'd rather sit out here, get a really bad sunburn and just leave it at that?

[gottaknockhard]

[Spike always was the ambitious one.]

If I could talk someone into getting me some food so I wouldn't have to get up.

[whatialways_do]

[laughs]

That would be the life.

[gottaknockhard]

[He guesses that's a 'no'. Oh well.]

Probably a long shot.

[whatialways_do]

[Yeah, sorry, Max isn't going to feed your laziness.]

Probably. But you never know. Some people around here are pretty nice.

[gottaknockhard]

[He didn't think she'd go for that anyway. Or why she'd help him at all after how obnoxious he was.]

Even when they know better.

[whatialways_do]

It's a side effect.

[gottaknockhard]

Side effect of what?

[whatialways_do]

Being nice.