Title: Masks Chapter Six
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Summary: Giles finds an old friend
Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :)

As Rupert lay him down on the cool bedcovers, Ethan tried to hold onto him, but the other man gently pulled away. They were in the master bedroom, and Ethan was glad of that. He'd grown to thoroughly dislike the four dingy walls of his own.

Rupert stood at the side of the bed and pulled his open shirt from his trousers, shrugging it off. Ethan whimpered quietly. His lover was older, but still decidedly in shape. It really wouldn't have mattered if he'd grown fat and puffy; Ethan would still want him desperately. Because he was Ripper. Because he was the only person Ethan had ever loved, or even trusted, in his whole debauched life. And because, in the end, he had rescued Ethan and saved him from a death by exquisitely slow torture.

"I thought you said you didn't want to torture me," Ethan remarked.

Rupert paused with his hands on the fastenings on his trousers. "Do you want me to stop?"

Ethan considered a very sarcastic retort, but discarded it in favour of the milder: "No, I'd rather like you to hurry up actually." Rupert smiled sardonically and finished undressing without another word. Looking over the other man with undisguised desire, Ethan then chuckled. "Um, would you mind terribly coming here a few moments, Rupert? I'd like to verify something if I may."

Still smiling, Rupert stretched out on the bed beside him. "What do you want to verify?"

Ethan flicked his hand into the air in an extravagant gesture, like a stage magician starting a trick. Then he took Rupert's hand and lifted it, carrying it over Ethan's trousers where he pressed it gently into his groin. "Hey presto," he said, looking very smug.

Rupert's smile grew heated. "Looks like you're making a quick recovery," he said, cupping and squeezing Ethan's erection through the cloth that separated them.

Ethan's head tipped back. It had been so long since he'd felt anything approaching sexual pleasure, and for it to be Rupert's hand and not his own touching him... He reached out blindly with his own hand to return the favour, and the fingers touching Ethan faltered for a brief second then resumed, as Rupert leaned in and kissed him long enough to steal his breath.

"Don't you think you're overdressed?" Rupert asked him.

"Quite possibly," was all Ethan could find to say to start with as his breathing recovered. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Rupert's cock and held it, enjoying the simple pleasure of its hardness in his grip.

Rupert pushed his hips forward, encouraging the touch, and kissed him again, nibbling on Ethan's lower lip. "Should I do something about that?" he asked. Ethan nodded, smiling slightly.

Pulling back just a little, Rupert ran his hand down Ethan's side then back up underneath the material of the sweatshirt he was wearing, pushing it up slowly. The hand felt warm and sensual on Ethan's skin, and he moved towards it almost unconsciously.

To be touched intimately by loving hands, after so long with the only human contact being latex-gloved scientists with needles and other torture implements, or rough soldier lackeys to whom he was no more than cargo -- it was almost too much. "Rupert... oh God, Ripper, please..."

The shirt was pulled over his head, and Ethan found himself being pulled close, skin to skin now. "Whatever you need," Rupert murmured against his lips as he kissed him lingeringly, seeming unable to pull himself away from the activity for long.

"And you are quite sure you mean that?" Ethan felt he needed to check, before stating what he was after. "And no," he added with false patience, "I don't want anyone transformed into a demon."

Rupert pulled back enough to meet his eyes seriously. "If it's within my ability. Anything you need, Ethan."

Meeting the other man's gaze more or less levelly, Ethan said, "I need Ripper."

Rupert stared at him searchingly for a long moment then kissed him roughly, possessively. "Whatever you need," he repeated, the old familiar accent sending shivers down Ethan's spine.

Harder than he would have thought possible at this stage of his recovery, Ethan writhed against Rupert -- Ripper-- and let himself be kissed as demandingly as the other man liked. With his arms wrapped around his lover, Ethan tried to persuade him to roll on top. Ripper resisted, instead sliding a hand slowly down Ethan's chest, finally coming to rest on his cloth-covered erection.

Ethan moaned, tipping his head back, and thrusting his hips up to meet the hand. "More, please," he demanded, through nearly gritted teeth. "Harder too, if it wouldn't be too much bother."

Ripper chuckled and squeezed him tightly for a brief second. "Like that?"

His breath caught. "Yes, but more so. Please."

Letting go long enough to undo Ethan's trousers, Ripper pushed them down out of the way. Sliding down his body, Ripper settled over Ethan, his face directly above Ethan's cock. "Said I'd give you what you needed, didn't I?" he asked, before taking the head of the cock into his mouth.

Ethan's hands clenched in the covers. "Ripper... Oh, make it hurt. Make it so I know I'm not dreaming." In response, Ripper scraped his teeth along Ethan's entire length, his hands moving to Ethan's hips to hold him down.

Wonderful pain, the *right* sort of pain, caused Ethan to tense his muscles and hold his breath. "Not..." he started to say, and then swallowed as Ripper did something with his tongue around the head of Ethan's cock that Ethan could somehow feel in his balls. "Not lost your knack then, old chum." Ripper chuckled at that, which did wonderful things to the cock within his mouth.

Squirming a bit on the bed, Ethan tested Ripper's grip on his hips. Fingers tightened to almost bruising intensity, keeping him still, and he moaned. He loo ked down towards the other man, being careful to keep his gaze only on Ripper, as he didn't want to see his own body at all at that moment. Well, apart from his cock slipping in and out of Ripper's hot and exquisitely cruel mouth. Ethan moaned again and moved his hands to tangle in his lover's hair.

Ripper knew him, knew exactly what he liked and what to do to drive Ethan crazy, and he was thoroughly proving that he hadn't forgotten any of it. He quickly had Ethan on the edge and then seemed to be doing his best to hold him there. And Ethan wanted to come, he really did, but not yet because he knew with utter certainty that he'd be out like the proverbial light as soon as it happened. "Ripper," he said urgently, tugging on the other man's hair. "Please. While that is remarkably entertaining, I... oh."

Lifting his head just enough to speak and look upwards, Ripper asked, "Please, what?"

Ethan grinned raggedly. "Oh please would you indulge this broken old man with the sight of your glorious face as you climax, thrusting hard inside me?"

He watched heated lust flash across Ripper's face, but it was followed by concern and worry. "Are you sure you're recovered enough for that kind of...intensity, love?"

Ethan's mouth crimped. "That may be Ripper's accent, but that's Rupert talking," he said waspishly. "Save the tenderness and concern for when you have a perverse desire for a sobbing has-been wetting your shirt front."

His lover surged up his body, grabbing Ethan's hands and pinning them to the mattress above his head. "Doesn't matter what accent I use or what name you call me," he all but growled, his face hovering a bare inch over Ethan's. "When have I ever taken the game further than you could go -- even when you wanted me to?"

The genuine anger in his lover's voice, and the force of the grip on his hands, made Ethan whimper, yearning even more to get what he craved. He writhed under Ripper, pushing up with his hips and wanting, but not daring, to kiss the angry lips just above his own. "I need this, Ripper. You said."

"You think I don't want to fuck you through the mattress?" his lover asked, punctuating the question with a thrust of his hips against Ethan, who shuddered in response.

"God," he gasped. "Thinking, my friend, has sod all to do with this. I need what I need, and you promised me that." Ethan deliberately made his voice nastier, courting trouble, inviting the savage beast within to come without. "Or like other solemn promises of yours, has that gone the way of cinders in the breeze?"

Anger flashed brightly in Ripper's eyes, but then, to Ethan's surprise, the other man's expression relaxed into one of affectionate amusement. He leaned down to kiss Ethan, the action tasting of relief and exhilaration. "God, I've missed you, " Ripper murmured, when he pulled back enough to speak again.

Ethan looked up sourly at his lover for a few moments, but then found he had to glance away, laughing softly at himself. Turning back, he found himself speaking alarmingly openly. "I never stopped. I couldn't let you go. I tried at first, but without you, all there was of me..." He sighed, shutting his eyes. "I didn't exist, not without my Ripper."

There was a lump in Ethan's throat. This was exactly why he'd wanted to avoid affection and tenderness in the first place. When they'd first been lovers, he'd been as open with Ripper as he was being now, but only after hours of mask-shattering intensity in the form of sadistic, sometimes brutal sex, or ritual magic, or alcohol and drugs. Or often a combination thereof. Now Ethan kept finding himself laid bare before his lover, sharing his deepest truths, with little or no provocation.

He wasn't lying when he called himself broken.

Ripper dropped a kiss on Ethan's temple. "I need an answer, love. Are you up to what you want, or am I going to have to take it easy on you?"

Glad that he hadn't ruined the mood, Ethan firmly closed the door on the thoughts that had been bothering him and moved sensually under Ripper again. "I daresay I'd have a bit of trouble with your 'through the mattress' scenario, but I do believe I'd survive a spot of more gentle buggery."

"Gentle," Ripper repeated, the word having a bit of a repressed laugh around it. "Right. When I've been wanting to take you again for years."

The words sent little shocks of desire through Ethan's belly and balls, and he panted as he taunted his lover. "That iron self-control getting feeble with increasing senility, Ripper?"

"You've always been the thing that tried my control the most," Ripper admitted, then kissed him again, murmuring, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Which leaves us with a tricky little problem then, as I want to be hurt."

Ripper shook his head. "Not the same thing, and you know it, love."

Ethan sighed; even the conversation was making him weary. If Ripper didn't hurry, Ethan wouldn't be up for anything much beyond unconsciousness. "I surrender," he said with heavy irony. "Do what you want, but just... do it."

Ripper kissed him lingeringly. "Never said I wasn't going to," he murmured, eyes sparking with mischief as he slid a hand between Ethan's legs.

Instinctively, Ethan raised his knees, putting his feet flat on the bed, and he pushed up to meet the questing hand. "Oh yes," he groaned. "Yes please." His wrists were still being pressed to the bed by Ripper's other hand, and he tugged at them, just to feel a little more deliciously helpless.

The grip on his wrists tightened for a moment to the point of true pain and then let go. "Keep them there," Ripper ordered gruffly, as he turned to rummage through the drawer of the bedside table. Other than to turn his head to watch his lover, Ethan didn't move a muscle. Ripper turned back to him, holding the lube, and making sure Ethan was watching as he coated his erection. He then slid his hand back between Ethan's legs.

He wasn't sure he'd ever wanted Ripper quite so much as he did now, and when the cool wet fingers touched between his buttocks, Ethan's hips rose up in an instinctive thrust, and his eyes closed as he gasped. He didn't move his hands from above his head however; the ghost of Ripper's grip on his wrists seemed as strong as iron chains.

"You've always been a wanton," Ripper commented, and Ethan could feel the man's gaze on him, as fingers stretched and teased.

"With you," he agreed, through gritted teeth. Oh God, it had been so long.

Ripper leaned over and kissed him again, drawing the action out, tongue and fingers echoing each other's actions. "Tell me again that you want this."

He knew from far too much experience that a sarcastic response at this point would only produce the immediate withdrawal of his lover's attentions, so Ethan bit it back and tried to obey the instruction. With his eyes still shut, he forced out one word at a time. "I. Want. This."

"Good," was Ripper's response and the fingers disappeared, only to be replaced with Ripper's cock.

All the air left Ethan's lungs in a broken cry of his lover's name.

Ripper stilled when he was buried deep. "Open your eyes, love." Not really wanting to, Ethan obeyed. The intensity of Ripper's gaze caught and held him captive. He knew his own eyes were probably revealing far more than he would ever be comfortable with, but he couldn't look away.

As Ripper started to move inside him, Ethan tried instinctively to wrap his legs around the other man to grant better access, but his thigh muscles were still too atrophied, and almost immediately, he was forced to drop them to the bed again. And as his gaze was affixed by Ripper's, he couldn't stop the other man seeing a brief moment of his distress.

Ripper kissed him gently in response. "It doesn't matter," he said softly, and shifted position so that Ethan's legs were resting against his braced arms. The new position let him get deeper, and he quickly took advantage of this fact.

Ethan groaned, wracked with that demanding gut-pull for *more* that such expert pressure on his prostate always produced. But he was becoming more aware of his fatigue. His head was spinning, and his panting was as much his damaged lungs as it was the passion. "This may be the one and only time I ever ask you for this, Ripper, but a swift --" He paused as sensation threatened momentarily to overwhelm him. "--swift conclusion might be advisable."

He caught a flash of worry as it passed through Ripper's eyes, but his lover didn't say anything, just slid a hand between their bodies to grasp Ethan's erection, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

Ethan's brain stopped functioning like a brain at all, as the totality of his attention and awareness moved to centre on his cock and arse, and the heavy, almost crushing force of rising pleasure between them as he headed inexorably towards orgasm. He was too weak to do anything but writhe helplessly from the non-existent force on his wrists, anchoring him down to the bed. "Ripper. God, Ripper!"

Ripper was thrusting harder now and the look on his face reflected what Ethan was feeling, the same overwhelming rush of pleasure with just a touch of wonder. Instinct found strength in Ethan's body that will had failed to locate previously, and he thrust up hard, lifting himself up on his feet, as he climaxed. Years of desperate need for the man above him seemed to pump from his body and then he slumped back to the bed, whimpering.

Ripper thrust a few more times before he froze and came with Ethan's name on his lips. Then he pulled out and collapsed beside him, reaching out a hand to keep in contact. But the hand wasn't enough, and Ethan rolled over to hold Ripper, not wanting the touching to end. They were damp with sweat and sticky with come, and Ethan knew he'd get cold quickly, but that wasn't the real reason he followed Ripper's warmth like a cat after a patch of sunlight.

"You okay?" his lover asked, wrapping his arms around Ethan, pulling him closer.

"Okay is a very meagre word, don't you think?" he replied, snuggling happily against the other man and closing his eyes.

He felt gentle fingers brush against his cheek. "What you needed?" Rupert asked in a quiet voice.

"Always need it," Ethan replied groggily, sleep already trying to drag him under. "Need you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Ethan didn't answer and didn't let himself think about the words, just tried to accept them. He mouthed soft, slow kisses against Rupert's skin and then let the comforting blanket of sleep take him, secure in his lover's arms.

***

Arms held Ethan down as he fought to free himself. Not again. He wasn't going to let them do this to him again. Power surged within him, racing to his fingertips, just waiting for the right mystical words to send the bastards flying from him. But the ball gag in his mouth made annunciation impossible, and the soldiers holding his arms stopped him using the hand signals instead. They'd learnt quickly from their earlier mistakes when 'handling' him.

His arms were strapped to the gurney, along with all the rest of him, until he was so trapped that he couldn't even turn his head. Only his eyes could move, watching furiously as the device was wheeled over, and glaring at the white coated scientist in rage and pain, as the git stuck the thick needles deep into Ethan's flesh.

Sensors were attached to his shaven scalp, chest, and immobilised fingers, and then dials were turned on the machine. Ethan jolted helplessly in the restraints, his mind a white desert of pain so intense he couldn't really feel it at all. Unconsciousness would be a mercy, but he knew from experience that it was a mercy which would be denied. No matter how bad the pain got, he would remain stubbornly awake to feel every second of it.

"We're getting good initial levels," said the scientist who was watching the readouts on the device. The digital displays on the machine were producing zigzagging lines with high peaks. The man made marks with a biro on the printout emerging from the side. "Time to test the thresholds, I think."

"I've always had a high pain threshold." Ethan grinned at Ripper, helpless in the leather restraints and yet feeling powerful and so alive. "You'll just have to try harder, my friend."

Ripper smiled down at him, the expression holding a touch of maliciousness. "I've all night. I'll get you to scream."

"I'll enjoy your endeavours, I'm sure." Ethan gritted his teeth as his lover let another line of scalding wax dribble down his chest from the lit candle. "You could always take it further, you know."

"We've discussed this to death. If you can't set limits, I will."

"Limits are like safe words -- things for amateurs and innocents, of which we are neither."

"Pain is one thing," Ripper said, pouring more wax over Ethan's skin. "Injury is another."

"I'm not--" Ethan exhaled sharply. "--not suggesting anything that wouldn't heal. In time. There may be a few interesting scars, of course."

"No."

The word was blunt and final, and Ethan knew he'd get no further with the conversation. There was no one in this world as stubborn as Ripper once he'd put his foot down. But perhaps it didn't matter, as a blob of liquid wax landed on one of Ethan's already tightly clamped nipples, and his body jolted as very real pain radiated out from that spot.

Real pain that blossomed and grew, spreading to every part of his body, overwhelming everything, tearing the memory he'd been dwelling on to shreds and dumping him into the hard, cold reality that was bright with agony.

Ethan convulsed on the gurney. He was in real danger of drowning on his own spit if he didn't suffocate from swallowing his tongue first, pushed back in his throat as it was by the gag. Not that they would care if he did; they'd just revive him.

As the pulses of nerve-shock faded to mere pins and needles throughout his entire body, he slumped back and glared at his torturers, challenging one of them, just one of the bastards, to meet his eyes. But as usual, none of them did.

One of the white-coats said, "I think we're getting somewhere, sir. There was considerable fluctuation shown in the energy readouts there, as well as spontaneous burst-emissions of both ultra and intra spectrum matter."

His superior answered, "Maybe a higher voltage would produce a more even flow?"

The first one nodded and changed some dials, while Ethan looked on helplessly, his head held rigid in the restraint and his eyes having to strain to see what was going on. He'd give them a more even flow. He'd give them spontaneous burst-emissions. One day. One day soon they'd make a mistake and then...

Ethan screamed around the gag as the pulsing started again.

***

Giles was jolted from a sound sleep by Ethan screaming. Battle-trained reflexes had him first scanning the room, looking for an attacker, but it was quickly evident that whatever the cause of Ethan's distress, it wasn't external.

He turned his full attention to his lover, who had rolled away from him sometime during the night and was curled in on himself, twitching in his sleep, the scream having trailed off into the whimpers of an injured animal.

After that first afternoon spent as lovers again, neither of them had questioned Ethan moving into Giles' bed, and they'd fallen into a relationship over the short while since that was simultaneously very comfortable and decidedly odd. Nightmares, however expected, had not been a part their nights once they had come together again.

Until now.

"Ethan?" he said, trying to wake him, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

The sleeping man's arm lashed out like a striking snake. Power cracked across his fingertips and arced across the room to set the curtains alight with a blue-green flame.

"Bloody hell!" Giles exclaimed, dashing out of bed and grabbing the pitcher of water on the bedside unit to throw on the curtains. The mystical fire was extinguished, although whether or not the water had helped was debatable. A ragged hole was left in the material. As Giles investigated it cautiously, there was a noise from the bed behind him.

"What's going on?" asked a plaintive voice.

Giles glanced back at the bed to see Ethan leaning up on his elbows, blinking dazedly at him, but definitely awake. "You were having a nightmare." Giles' voice took on a bit more of a dry tone as he observed, "I think it's safe to say that your magic is starting to come back."

Ethan sat up, the bedclothes dropping from his chest. He rubbed his eyes and then drew back sharply, staring at his fingertips as if they'd stung him. Maybe they had. "What... what did I do?"

"Set the curtains on fire." He walked back over and sat down on the bed beside Ethan. "Are you all right?"

Ethan automatically started to move towards Giles, for comfort perhaps, or just affection, but he hesitated, looking back at his hands.

There were so many echoes of the past in everything between them, from momentary glances to the same old jokes being referred to once again. But everything was really so very different, as the frightened look Ethan now gave Giles attested.

"I was back in the dear old labs again," Ethan told him; his voice had a dagger-sharp edge to it. "They did things to me in there, Rupert. You... you shouldn't touch me. Not until we know I'm safe."

"Bugger that," Giles said, deliberately reaching out and taking hold of Ethan's hand. "If I'd only touched you when I'd known you were safe, we'd still be waiting for the first time."

Ethan chuckled slightly at that, but still looked nervously at their joined hands. "I think they may have worked out some way to super-charge me. Unlock my inner potential, you might say. Not that it did *me* any good whatsoever, if that was the case. They drained it all into those battery things of theirs, and I never got a look in." He sighed heavily and then shuddered. Looking up at Giles, he asked, "Do I feel... right to you?"

Giles closed his eyes, reaching out with his seldom-used magic sense. Ethan... felt like Ethan, a wellspring of wild magic, replenished now -- replenished almost to overflowing. So close to overflowing in fact, that something like what happened with the curtains had probably been inevitable. Giles frowned.

When he opened his eyes again, Ethan was smirking at their joined hands. "That felt nice. Care to do it again?" But then he looked up and took note of Giles' expression. His smirk dropped into a pout. "Oh. There *is* something wrong then."

"More like something is too right," Giles replied. "Super-charged would indeed be an apt term." Ethan lifted his free hand and stared at it. He said nothing, but there was a small smile growing on his face. "That type of smile from you has always made me worry," Giles said, although he couldn't quite keep himself from smiling back.

Ethan met his gaze, now grinning widely. "I feel like me again, Rupert. It's back. It's odd and possibly dangerous, but it's back. *I'm* back." He raised his hand in order to touch Giles' cheek, but hesitated, frowning. "Erm, curtains are one thing, but I'd rather like the reassurance of knowing I'm not about to burn a big hole in *you*." Apparently too irrepressibly happy to maintain the frown, Ethan's eyes sparkled as he added, "After all, where would I get my free board and lodgings then?"

"I should've known -- you only love me for my Council-provided safe house," Giles deadpanned. Becoming serious again, he reached out and brought Ethan's hand to his cheek, finishing the aborted gesture. "The curtain incident should have drained off enough for you to be safe for now."

"I do hope you're right," Ethan said, leaning forward for a kiss.

Giles obliged, smiling as he pulled back afterwards. "Seem to still be in one piece."

"Perhaps we should make doubly sure?"

"Never hurts to confirm one's facts," Giles agreed, leaning in for another kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Ethan craned around in Giles' arms to look at the clock. "I feel like a child at Christmas. Is it too early to get up?" His grin was open and happy.

Giles turned to look at the clock, the bright digital numbers informing him it was about an hour before sunrise. He looked back at Ethan whose shining eyes did indeed remind him of those of an excited child. "You're not going to be able to get back to sleep anyway, are you?"

Ethan was all but bouncing on the bed. "I want to rip all the wrapping paper away and play with everything all at once." As Giles knew that his lover had had a difficult and deprived childhood, he found the ongoing Christmas metaphor interesting.

"What are you hoping to find under the tree?" he asked, extending the metaphor himself, curious to hear how Ethan would answer.

"Oh, I don't know," the other man grinned. "I always fancied one of those Scaletrix sets wherein the cars looped the loop."

"That explains the incident with the mini," Giles replied dryly. He had never been quite able to figure out how his lover had managed to get the vehicle to move the way it had.

Eyes alive with delight at the memory, Ethan got to his knees on the bed, moving almost like the young man he had once been. He held Giles' face in both hands and planted a wet kiss on his lips, laughing while he did it. "I'd forgotten that day. The upholstery was never quite the same again, was it?" He licked at Giles' lips and drew back. "Oh and Ripper, do you remember that night down in Bethnel with Deirdre in the mini, when we'd convinced her we could fly over the river? Like Chitty Chitty sodding Bang Bang."

"Ruined the suspension for good, that little adventure did," Giles said, remembering the rough ride back afterwards. He watched Ethan with bemusement, finding himself vividly reminded of what exactly had attracted him to the other man in the first place.

Ethan's expression softened, almost sobered in fact, as his fingertips traced the most prominent lines on Giles' face, as if wondering where they'd come from. With a little laugh, he stared deeply into Giles' eyes, searching... for what?

Giles held Ethan's gaze, staying perfectly still under the examination, though finally he had to ask, "What are you looking for?"

Ethan shook himself, drawing back and seeming a little perplexed by his own actions. Visibly composing himself, he smiled again. "Hmm. The lost treasure of the Sierra Madre? Or perhaps the crew of the Marie Celeste."

"I'm fairly certain that you won't find either in my eyes," Giles replied in kind, smiling as he let the mood lighten again. Ethan leant forward and initiated another kiss.

Giles rather thought he knew what direction they were heading, and so was surprised when Ethan broke the kiss and said, "I quite fancy a breath of fresh air, Rupert. Watch the sun come up with you, the way we used to. Of course, we hadn't usually reached bed before we watched the dawn back then." Briefly touching their lips together again, he then added, "Do you think you could drive us to the Heath?"

"I think we can manage that," Giles said. It was the first time Ethan had expressed an interest in going outside since he'd recovered enough for it to be feasible; Giles wasn't about to deny the request, even if it had been far more outrageous than watching the sunrise. "As long as there's no flying cars this time."

Ethan looked at his hands again and grinned. "Spoilsport."

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