Sunshine feels a brief surge of panic - how in the hell did he know?! - before remembering that she and Spike actually ran into him mid-trek through the park. So he'd seen them holding hands, and… oh, gods. Now she doesn't even have plausible deniability. So much for heading him off with an: oh, well, it was just a magic thing, we're not involved. (And they're not involved. One afternoon of - of questionable life choices does not constitute involvement.)

Shit. She presses her lips together and busies herself with peeling apart muffin wrappers and putting them in the tins. Is she blushing? She's pretty sure she's blushing. Gods and frigging angels.

"Do we?" she asks, giving him a sidelong glance. She's not sure if she should go for warning or pleading, and consequently achieves neither.