With the mental link broken, Whistler took a moment to shake open his pack of Lucky Sevens. He lit two absently, offering one to the slayer. It was only after did he question whether or not she'd had one before in his presence. It just felt... natural to offer her one.

Like after great sex.

"You mean the tattoos, or..." he voice trailed off, smoke in the air. "No, you didn't mean the tattoos." It was now his turn to turn red. "It's... best way I can describe it is a spiritual infection. Corruption."