Spike's tune changed to something akin to curiosity, possibly quiet admiration. The tentative beginnings of being impressed. There are no such grounds to prove whether she could live up to her claims, though, he supposed she wouldn't be gearing to get up there and go if she doubted herself. Half of the battle in doing something seemed to boil down to confidence, which in regards to music, she wasn't at a lack of.

"Do I look like jukebox roulette to you?"

Back to perpetual boredom, an easy fall back. Couldn't have her getting ahead of herself.

"If I wanted to be someone's agent, I'd have stayed in Hollywood." Power, real power, wasn't on a screen. Occasionally, it did turn up on stages across the world. Lorne came to mind. The myth of sirens didn't exactly crop up from nowhere. "This is your claim to fame, not mine. Or it will be, when that sod clears the roster and puts some talent other than Cyclops up there."

The lunatics being passed off as creative talents with their gigantic headpieces and the squeaky turntables.