"I'm with the cheerleader on this one. Money. Money sounds like a right good idea 'bout now," Spike announced as he walked quite ceremoniously inside, finding Wesley's desk and propping his feet up on it as he sat down. "Oh, and where's my X-Box at? Thought I told you t'bring it here so's I can play Guitar Hero in between savin' the world and all."

If he'd looked carefully (which he never did), he would have noticed that the front desk he'd brushed past had a small (very very very small) nameplate on it. With his name. Well, with "William" on it, because if this was going to be an up and up company, then he knew good old Percy wouldn't have wanted "Spike" listed as the receptionist.

Not that Spike had noticed, naturally.

"Oi, where's my blood at? Someone go get me my cup of blood. Maybe mix a little coffee in it or Wheatabix, for old times' sake and shit."