Giles needs a mid-afternoon cuppa to get him through all of this...
Rupert scrutinized the face of the derelict building, unsure of whether he wanted very much to enter it anymore. Unfortunately his flight from London had been less than pleasant so he trudged on in hopes of a comfortable bed and a warm meal.
Before knocking, he recalled their stilted and awkward conversation. Faith never had been one to openly ask for help, and it was painfully obvious from her tone that she didn't enjoy the experience one bit. His hand rose to the handle - he'd been told to simply walk in, but he raised it even higher and opted to knock. His mind drifted fleetingly to the situation Faith had described: "They’re like me and the Bufster all over again, and I gotta figure you're the best to handle that kinda thing, yeah?"
He sighed when the door stayed shut for enough time for him to determine that no one was going to open it and greet him in a comfortable and proper manner, one that he was used to and now hoped for. The irony that he was in fact a gentleman of stature in this environment who was suddenly very nervous in it was not lost on Rupert, and he gave a chuckle even as he tried to peer in one of the large, very dirty windows. They were all covered in bars - Faith must love that.
With a bolstered effort at confidence, his hand gripped the handle to the door again and swung it open to pop his head inside, eyebrows raised in question. When he saw a bustle and loudness that must have drowned his knock, he shuffled the rest of his body inside a little ungracefully and repositioned the duffle bag on his shoulder. He'd been told the stay might be long and to pack at least a week's worth of clothing.
Thankfully, the inside of the facility looked much better - which was to say a lot, seeing as there were places where the piping and insulation was exposed. The entire first floor was open to encompass what looked to be a decently sized library, kitchen and large study tables. He smiled a little, to see that Faith had actually been managing his suggestions quite well. He'd visited before they'd bought the old YMCA, but he wasn't sure that the young slayers he'd met were still around.
As he let himself peruse the area, marking some novice watchers and slayers going about their business, something seemed off. Or rather, something seemed in place that shouldn't be - he couldn't help but furrow his brow and drop his bag to free up both hands. Rupert removed his glasses and wiped at them, still squinting around the room trying to determine what wasn't - err, was - right. He slid the spectacles back into place and gasped a little, finally seeing the tiny blonde standing by the back set of doors, facing away from him.
"Oh my," he found himself uttering involuntarily, as he hadn't seen Buffy in quite some time. He suddenly found Faith out of his favor. “Dear Lord it's a trap. When did Faith get smart?” he muttered a little angrily under his breath, before picking his duffel bag back up and approaching her cautiously.
Before knocking, he recalled their stilted and awkward conversation. Faith never had been one to openly ask for help, and it was painfully obvious from her tone that she didn't enjoy the experience one bit. His hand rose to the handle - he'd been told to simply walk in, but he raised it even higher and opted to knock. His mind drifted fleetingly to the situation Faith had described: "They’re like me and the Bufster all over again, and I gotta figure you're the best to handle that kinda thing, yeah?"
He sighed when the door stayed shut for enough time for him to determine that no one was going to open it and greet him in a comfortable and proper manner, one that he was used to and now hoped for. The irony that he was in fact a gentleman of stature in this environment who was suddenly very nervous in it was not lost on Rupert, and he gave a chuckle even as he tried to peer in one of the large, very dirty windows. They were all covered in bars - Faith must love that.
With a bolstered effort at confidence, his hand gripped the handle to the door again and swung it open to pop his head inside, eyebrows raised in question. When he saw a bustle and loudness that must have drowned his knock, he shuffled the rest of his body inside a little ungracefully and repositioned the duffle bag on his shoulder. He'd been told the stay might be long and to pack at least a week's worth of clothing.
Thankfully, the inside of the facility looked much better - which was to say a lot, seeing as there were places where the piping and insulation was exposed. The entire first floor was open to encompass what looked to be a decently sized library, kitchen and large study tables. He smiled a little, to see that Faith had actually been managing his suggestions quite well. He'd visited before they'd bought the old YMCA, but he wasn't sure that the young slayers he'd met were still around.
As he let himself peruse the area, marking some novice watchers and slayers going about their business, something seemed off. Or rather, something seemed in place that shouldn't be - he couldn't help but furrow his brow and drop his bag to free up both hands. Rupert removed his glasses and wiped at them, still squinting around the room trying to determine what wasn't - err, was - right. He slid the spectacles back into place and gasped a little, finally seeing the tiny blonde standing by the back set of doors, facing away from him.
"Oh my," he found himself uttering involuntarily, as he hadn't seen Buffy in quite some time. He suddenly found Faith out of his favor. “Dear Lord it's a trap. When did Faith get smart?” he muttered a little angrily under his breath, before picking his duffel bag back up and approaching her cautiously.