Spike nodded his head and took a drag of his cigarette before he could verbalize an answer. As much of an answer as he ever gives.

"She's...," he interrupts himself, catching what he was about to say before he couldn't take it back. It was an odd false-start coming from him. "You could probably tell she's not happy with me. But she's not the type to take it out on anyone."

Anyone but him, and he'd done nothing but make mistakes since he started trying to make it right between them. There was a reoccurring theme here.