Spike's seen people put through all manner of physical trauma- he's been both the giver and receiver of a fair amount, himself. Finch moves like an inexpertly handled marionette at times. He notes the awkward shrug and stiffness of the neck.

The dog laps at Finch's hands. The little tremor doesn't seem to be strictly from nerves.

Uh-oh, it's probing time. Spike raises his brows, shrugs, grins a tight-lipped grimace. "Ludicrousness is sort of a defining characteristic of life, innit? For all I know, I might be dreaming, or very, very high. Best to just try and ride it all out."

He's never been much for sitting still. Angelus used to clip him round the ear for it often enough when he was a fledge. He shifts position, lacing his hands behind his head and leaning back against the wall. "Car crash?"