Infuriated, the Lothgar lunged again, his claws raking through the air in search of flesh to rend and tear - but they fell upon nothing. Nykos staggered and snorted fetid breath into the alley. How could they move so swiftly?

Nykos whirled to face them. They simply stood there, seemingly oblivious to his ferocity. Spike had produced a cigarette as if by sleight of hand and it dangled from his lips. Even as Nykos fumed and advanced once more, a lighter appeared in the vampire's hand and he set the tip of his smoke ablaze. When he spoke again, the words were mumbled around the butt of the cigarette.

"Yeah, he's a tricky one all right. But if he knows what's good for 'im, he'll take his furry little ass out of here and find another pair of French tarts to nibble on."

In all his five hundred years, Nykos of the Lothgar had never encountered anything quite like these two. Yes, he'd had battles over prey before but never had he encountered adversaries filled with such - indifference.

Spike stared, his eyes intense. "There's a good boy," he smiled showing off his pointed incisors. "It's nice to know that not all the rot I hear about Lothgars is true."

The vampires then did the intolerable. They turned their backs on him and began to leave.