Harmony had minions. Fucking Harmony had her own bloody minions. Aside from being
inherently wrong, it was extremely depressing for Spike. He couldn't get a dog to listen to him, and
Harm had minions.
"Rolling Rock," Spike ordered from the bartender. He took a seat on the stool at the counter and
half-turned towards the band on stage.
The Bronze didn't have many patrons that night. Most were college students from what Spike could
see. The band, Delta, was performing light indie-rock, a mellow sound which furthered the blond's
Spike propped his elbows on the counter and rubbed his temples. The beer was set in front of him
and the bartender left without asking questions, of which Spike was thankful. It wasn't fair.
Harmony wasn't allowed to have minions, even if they only shared a single brain cell between the
whole lot. The sad part was, knowing his current streak of luck, the silly bint would succeed in her
plan and kill the Slayer.
"A shot of Zima, please, and leave the bottle." A college-aged student took the stool beside Spike
even though there were several unoccupied further down the bar. He had bright green hair, too, and
several face piercings with a thin chain connecting them. If Spike was still able, he'd reach out and
yank the piercings off by that chain. But he couldn't, so he pushed the malicious thought from his
mind. It was giving him a headache anyway.
Spike picked up his beer and drained half of it in one continuous gulp, then rolled the bottle between
his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the college student remove a stapled pack of papers
from his backpack and set them on the bar. Across the top was printed in bold: The Adventures of
Guido, the Astro-Physicist. Episode 17: Guido Meets Dracula.
The blond smirked at that. Then he turned his attention to the band and silently contemplated his
useless unlife for the remainder of the evening.