"Oh. Please. I'm, like, ten leagues away from even considering actually snacking on a loved one. But..." Dracula. Spike hadn't been there to witness it -- no one had, really -- but Dracula had compelled her to drink from his wrist. And it had been truly disgusting.

She nodded her head across the space that separated them. "Your cuts aren't even serious anymore and I know they're there."

As if to drown the knowledge, she pawed at the bottle-o-pig once more and took a generous swig. And then grimaced as she fought to keep the game-face off. Like some fricking learned response.