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Oh, but if they hit it off, if they had a blood red wedding, if they grew old and gray together, at the end of it all, Spins would still describe the whole thing as one big game, one fantastic dance. He took things lightly. Too lightly. And perhaps that's why, as they strode into the bar, he didn't show the slightest hint of hesitation.

He had his reasons. And maybe it drove the people around him crazy. But for the time being, Dom didn't seem to be objecting.

He walked in a step behind her. Partly habit, but mostly he just liked being able to stare a bit without being too obvious about it.

She looked damn cool. Which was the date that you got laid again?

Right. Now was not the time.

Where Dom sat, Spin's simply leaned against the bar, taking his cues from Dom, and only giving a short shake of his head at the question.

No, no he didn't think he'd much risk drinking anything on a date with her for some time. He'd already managed to screw up that phenomenally simple chore.

What he could do was lean against the bar and look menacing. He lacked Dom's class, his was the simple threat of a predator around those it saw as prey, an absolute lack of fear and the distinct sense that, if it came to it, and only he and Dom walked out of the place, he wouldn't lose a second of sleep.

Oh, so he was a freak was he?

Wait, wait. That's right. He was a freak. Still 'dollface' who the hell talked like that? He almost giggled, but was afraid to ruin the mood. He settled for a smirk.

He had tensed almost imperceptibly as the man approached, but other than that seemed unaffected. He watched Dom talk, and if he was aware of the man shifting behind him, he showed no sign of it.

The flashing silver coin was back on his fingers, dancing. Heads and tails and heads again.

But then Dom moved, and the glass broke, and Spins went from leaning to standing tense, gun out, and he was snickering softly to himself.

"Not happy with the beer?" He asked, as his eyes swept the bar and traced the clicking sound to its source. Hello friend!

A big guy, wide face with eyes set deep under heavy brows. Kinda bear like, almost. Which was reassuring. He'd hunted bear before. Of course, people weren't bear. For one thing, Dom probably wouldn't take kindly to his skinning them and keeping the meat in the freezer.

Probably, considering his exotic parentage, Spins should have done something cool just then. Levitated or moved super fast. But, truth be told, he hadn't inherited much more than a tendency to bruise and a slow healing time. Thanks Mom and Dad!

He didn't say anything first, didn't menace or warn. He shot twice, not going for anything so fancy as a head shot, but not attempting to hit the knees as he'd mentioned.

The first was a gut shot, the second went wild, and only grazed the man's arm.

Glee! Blood.

Oh, holy ********, that hurt! A sound escaped his lips, a rough, pained growl that trailed into a sharp hiss. Around him, the dim glittering aura he had turned red, and darkened. The bullets had, luckily, missed their intended target. Spins brains were not splattered on the floor. They had, however, hit the vest, the first impacting the shoulder strap and the second hitting slightly lower. Well, that would only bruise forever.

Pain shot through him when he attempted to move his left arm. Oh right, that was attached at the shoulder. He shifted the gun into his right hand instantly, knowing it wasn't the optimal solution. He wasn't a good shot right handed.

God this was awesome. He was running high on adrenaline and the pain only added to the effect. Everything seemed sharp and clear. Dominique's voice. His own breathing.

The huge man running toward him with murder in his eyes.

The thing about hunting animals is that prey ran away. People ran toward. It helped with the whole aiming.

So he didn't dodge, or dart away, he stood as the man closed the not sizable gap between him, that eerie growl rumbling in his throat again. His arms were still more or less at his side, and it was in fact only the slightest of motions as the man was about to barrel into him that lifted it slightly so that he might shoot the man through the knee.

Which he did.

It was... effective. Or anyway, the man made an odd sort of gasping whimpering screaming sound, and crumpled to the ground. He knocked into Spins into the process, and the 'freak' was briefly off balance before he reached down to pick up the dropped gun and turned back toward the action. Now he had a gun for both hands, even if he didn't want to move one of his arms.

He moved to approach the main fray, considering whether 'shoot stuff' was still the best option. It was fun anyway. A shot in their general direction to draw at least a little attention off Dom.

"Alright, who else wants to spend some time in a super badass wheelchair?" He'd gone from growling to giggling. It didn't really help the eerie.

Spins flashed Dominique one of his bright, wild grins, even as the bullet flew past and buried itself somewhere more comfortable than his flesh. More comfortable for him anyway. Who knew what bullets considered comfortable.

"You sure know how to plan a date." He replied. This was the best date ever. Okay, so there wasn't a lot of competition. But that wasn't the point.

Glancing between the two remaining thugs he advanced on the one that wasn't shooting at him. The elf was the more dangerous target, but the other was just on the edge of bolting, and predator that he was, the fear was a bit of a draw.

"Hey, don't go." He was still grinning, feral, hungry, and amused. His voice held edges of laughter, but he seemed almost sincere. As if he was trying to calm the man down. Oh sure, the gun wasn't exactly reassuring, but nonetheless.

"Someone's bound to die with all these guns. I mean, even friendly fire, your buddy's shooting pretty wild. My money's on you. Could be your chance, we're talking blaze of glory.

"C'mon. You rush me, I'll shoot you in the head. It'll be gorgeous."

Spins responded to his prey's words with a brief, barking laugh. Well, it was a shift from that insane giggling, right? The other, he was only passively aware of. Either he trusted Dom to watch his back, or he was simply too engaged in the game he was playing.

Yes, let him play. Look at him, the feverish energy in his eyes, those sharp fangs that his smile revealed. And the smile itself, an expression utterly without malice or fear. Just... amusement.

Oh Dom, what have you done? Didn't they say that once a predator became a man eater, there was no stopping it from killing?

"C'mon, you're not listening. It's 'cuz you're scared. It's cool. I used to be scared. But honest, you die a few times, you'll never be scared again."

His tone fell into some odd no mans land between teasing and seduction. It was... unusual.

"Don't worry about your buddy, or your boss. Just trust me. It'll be the best death ever. I promise I'll never forget it."

The amount of space between them hadn't changed, he'd been careful to maintain it. His gun remained carefully trained on his target. He was just waiting for permission to shoot.

Some people just didn't know how to listen. And just when he'd thought he was getting through, too. Oh well. He half shrugged, and turned gracelessly on his heel to face the main action again.

Err... where the main action had been. It looked like Dom had things pretty well in hand. Which wasn't surprising. Because she was awesome.

Eyes still feverishly bright with lingering adrenaline, though no longer grinning with quite so much madness, Spins made his way over to the bar at an ambling lope, stooping to pick up the elf's gun. Now he had three! That meant he was awesome too.

Though not as awesome as Dom.

But then, who was?

"And then what happens?" He asked, leaning on the bar and admiring the rather interesting mess that Dominique had made of Bob's face. It could be called 'Study in the Grotesque' and hung on a wall at one of Jaden's galleries.

Somehow, he doubted his roommate would appreciate the parallel.

Spins wasn't fidgeting. It was something that Dom was unlikely to notice, or at least, was likely to put off to merely the fact that the man was holding three guns and had recently been shot. It'd be a reasonable assumption. But... no.

He watched Dom finish her business with Bob with an expression that could best be described as blissful. The high of the fight was receding, leaving him in that lovely floating place that tended to follow, and he was loving it.

This had been so much ******** fun.

"Y'know, hanging out with you feels a lot like dying." He stated, happily.

It took a moment before he realized that it probably didn't sound like a very flattering statement. "Its... uhh... well, an attempt at a compliment."

And then, glancing around the mess they'd made with the sort of satisfied expression he might wear while looking over an engine he'd rebuilt, he cocked his head slightly.

"So it's always like this? Does it happen a lot?" It wasn't that he was bothered by it, no. It just seemed like there'd be a bit of a erm... dip in business at the bar while someone had to clean up the mess.

Spins doubted that Dominique appreciated any interruptions in business.

"Not as often as I used to." Spencer admitted, in the sort of off handed tone that indicated that he didn't consider it anything of particular interest. Some people had extra toes... Spins died a lot. Genetics could be crazy like that. He was just glad HE didn't have extra toes.

He was much more interested in Dom who was genetically a mob boss. Okay, so maybe she wasn't born a mob boss, but she was born into mobdom, and she sure as hell pulled it off well.

He had the feeling that she could have handled the whole scene they'd been through alone if she had wanted too. And she'd let him come and play! He could appreciate someone who was willing to let him have fun, practical or no.

He followed her toward the door, allowing her to take the handgun he was holding. Two was enough. There were those who might argue that he should be happy with only one gun. Those people were crazy, and out to destroy his small happiness. They deserved to be shot.

Heh. And he could do the shooting!

"I'm just surprised anyone's stupid enough to mess with you." He commented, still almost offhandedly, conversing as he was from his fuzzy, blissful place. "I mean... unless they like being threatened and shot."

He wasn't going to say they didn't. Took all kinds, after all. It was at that point that his gaze was drawn to the holes in his leather jacket, which he prodded at carefully with the muzzle of one of the guns he still held.

"I'm not sure if that's tragic or awesome." He murmured, addressing the jacket, mostly.