milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Giles had spent the post-battle days resting and recovering. Even though the advanced medical equipment left him feeling more physically whole and fit then he had for ages. He was now in the bar with a book, doing some light reading. (Mediaval history if you must know)
And yes, there's a pot of tea by him so having his usual cuppa.
He gave some cursory glances around the bar. A lot of new arrivals of late.
Hmmm... They tend to occur in waves, he wondered why that was.
(ooc: mun is to bed, have an early day tomorrow. Happy to slowtime)

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"Oy!"

A british voice rings out across the bar.

"Watcher!"

Giles looked up. Just when he thought he could have a peaceful night in the bar, she pulls this.

"Spike. So you found the door. How marvelous for us." He drily remarked.

"Found? Be pretty hard NOT to find it, you lot filing out of the battle in a great big rush, pulling me with you..."

And he does make his way closer.

"I see. And you all survived as I understand it." Giles didn't comment on being unaware of really anything for a while after the battle. The whole umpteenth concussion set him back considerably briefly.

"Demmed if I know."

Spike pulls out a chair and cops a squat.

"I didn't get a chance to see. So you been hiding this place too? It's really a blow to my ego, findin all you lot here, and never once tellin me."

Giles remarked, "Well, given that for the longest time, our information had your current status as ashes lying at the bottom of the crater that used to be Sunnydale. I belive you can understand why such news would fall on the wayside?"

He wasn't going to mention that they still thought that back in his world, or Andrew's world was the closest he's got to his home world in a few months.

"Well, I got better no then, didn't I?"

Why do they all bring up the ashes?

"Didn't Angel tell any of you about my return?"

Giles remarked, "He did not. In fact since he aligned himself with Wolfram and Hart, communication has become strained. We thought he was giving into temptation."

He did admit in a quieter tone as he lifted his cup again, "We were wrong, but there were much more pressing problems to worry about." He then took a slow drink of the tea.

Spike leans forward, worried.

"Is she okay?"

Giles started at that with some surprise.

"Er, who?"

"Who else?"

His gaze narrows.

"Buffy."

Of course, he should have figured.

Giles remarked, "She is well. Both back home and here. Well, as well as she can be given the circumstances. She's from an earlier point in the timeline than either of us, so it would be best to keep your distance." He knew the vampire likely wouldn't do so, but at least a warning might defray an awkward situation.

No way in hell will he. He's got Plans, capitol P.

"And back home? What was the trouble you were hintin at?"

Giles remarked offhandedly, "The end of the world, as usual, and our forces are scattered to maintain order and balance."

He added meaningfully, "Spike, the Buffy here... has anyone explained to you about the dead coming here? Because that is the case for many of the patrons here."

"Dad can dance, walking the bar, blah blah blah, Buffy is here from just after heaven, but right before hell, I got it Watcher man."

But that doesn't mean he's not going to try it.

"Good, glad that's cleared up then," Giles succinctly remarked, and sipped some more of his tea. He'd say more, but no business in the bar or previous grudges. And Spike did his part in their battles which at least shows some efforts in reforming.

"Right then."

Spike nods, and stalks off. Hoping to find buffy.

Mmmm, tea. He could steal it, but that would be rude.

A very short person walks by Giles, on his way to get his own tea, staring at him rather pointedly as he goes.

What? It's harder to get a read on people when you don't know everything.

Giles peered back, and shifted his gaze downward to eye level, "May I help you?"

Pause. Blink.

"I can help myself." Smeagol tilts his head suspiciously. "Why?"

Giles remarked, "My apologies then. I thought you might have a question."

He added, "You were staring after all."

"Was I?"

Smeagol thinks on this. "I suppose I was. Sorry."

"Yes. Is everything all right then?"

Quite suddenly, Smeagol grins widely.

"No. But it's going to be."

"How refreshing. Some good news around here." Giles commented idly.

He then added in a gentler tone, "I'm glad to hear that."

"So was I."

Giles just gave a nod to that. He wouldn't pry if the information was not offered,

Smeagol tilts his head at Giles.

"Excuse me for asking, but are you in any way shape or form harmful or evil?"

Giles blinked in surprise at that, "What odd question. No, I'm not evil." The harmful part.... uh, depends? He can be.

"Right." Smeagol continues to stare at Giles. "Just as long as you're not going to come at me with a knife or try to turn me into a table lamp, or anything. I'm out of practice at knowing without asking."

"You haven't given me a reason to do so, and there is an adage against violence here. Furthermore, such transmutation is very advanced spellwork, and takes a great deal of power and practice to master."

Giles remarked, "You mean you did know before? Telepathy? Clairsentience? A spell to gain knowledge and insight?"

Smeagol staaaares.

"Look, I'm not omniscient anymore, so you're going to have to use smaller words."

Giles blinked at that.

Several times.

"Omniscient? Oh dear... that must have quite an experience."

He then explained, "I was guessing that perhaps you could somehow sense another's thoughts, or your senses were strengthened beyond normal means. Or you had used magic, or magic was done to you to cause a similiar effect."

". . . let's go with the last one.

And, yes, it was, which is why I gave it up."

"That's quite understandable. At least you were able to free yourself by will from it."

Yes, there's the witches, and the Forsaken, and the teenagers...

And the elf lord who has discovered the wonders of padded furniture. These couches are bliss... He is currently sprawled on one, sipping his wine, and watching the bar with a bright-eyed facination.

Giles was still distracted by his reading, and only gave him a brief point of notice. Very casual about it as he sipped some more tea.

You mean the watcher grand-high-poobah missed the reborn high elf?

Well.

These things happen.

Glorfindel certainly isn't at all particularly interested in Giles either. Seen one human, seen most of them. Or it could be that the slightly vacant look in his eyes means he's not quite with it, in the most common sense.

Or maybe it's something else entirely. It is often difficult to tell, with elves.

Oh, he noticed, but given the amount of people in the bar, it's hard to tell who's what by sight typically.

Giles did give a nod of greeting, but then noticed the distant look.

"Are you all right?"

Eventually a pair of bright blue eyes focuses on him, accompanied by a politely raised eyebrow.

"Beg pardon?" The accent is decidedly untracable. If you stick to Earth accents, anyway.

Giles remarked, "You seemed to have something on your mind. Sorry."

"Nothing beyond a bit of wandering, good sir. These... beds? They are terribly comfortable. Almost diabotically so. How anyone gets anything done around here is a marvel." Glorfindel likes the couches - if he didn't think it would work, he would attempt to take a few back to Imladris.

"Actually those are couches. The beds in the rooms are very comfortable as well. I do agree."

"They have rooms here?" He is politely interested. "It is not just a tavern then, but a boarding house?"

Giles nodded, "It is because many remain here for various reasons, and require lodging. So Bar supplies accordingly."

He then asked, "Newly arrived then, are you?"

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