Hustle and Bustle
Unfortunately, though we'd spoken for some time, and had gone through the majority of the bottle of whiskey with our tea, neither Giles nor I had really been able to formulate any good strategies as far as what help he, I, or both of us might be to Buffy with regards to her strained relationships with her friends at the moment. Both of us, we realised, were in very similar straits and occupied similar ranks within Buffy's sphere-- he as de facto father figure, and myself as significant other-- which gave us really only the ability to support Buffy and give only the assistance requested of us.
For either Giles or myself to move of our own accord-- speak to, say, Xander and Willow about Buffy-- we would be courting the accusation of 'meddling' or otherwise sticking our nose into Buffy's personal business. And neither of us, mos definitely, wanted to be on Buffy's blacklist at the moment, or really, ever.
Once bottle and teapot were dry, I bid a rested and relaxed, if not un-thoughtful Giles farewell and stepped into the lobby. Looking about, I wandered the hotel again, lost in thought. Anne's charges had moved in only a few hours ago, and already, the entire upper floors were all but vibrating with life and movement, two things that the saddened, exhaused and often openly brooding denizens of the Hyperion so far this past year or so rarely knew.
Amongst the bustle and the chatter of dozens more youthful voices than I thought I might ever see in the hotel, I spotted a familiar form and face. I raised a hand and smiled.
"Fred? Fred, how wonderful to see you!" I called out, and waitied for her to turn around.
((Open to Fred.))
For either Giles or myself to move of our own accord-- speak to, say, Xander and Willow about Buffy-- we would be courting the accusation of 'meddling' or otherwise sticking our nose into Buffy's personal business. And neither of us, mos definitely, wanted to be on Buffy's blacklist at the moment, or really, ever.
Once bottle and teapot were dry, I bid a rested and relaxed, if not un-thoughtful Giles farewell and stepped into the lobby. Looking about, I wandered the hotel again, lost in thought. Anne's charges had moved in only a few hours ago, and already, the entire upper floors were all but vibrating with life and movement, two things that the saddened, exhaused and often openly brooding denizens of the Hyperion so far this past year or so rarely knew.
Amongst the bustle and the chatter of dozens more youthful voices than I thought I might ever see in the hotel, I spotted a familiar form and face. I raised a hand and smiled.
"Fred? Fred, how wonderful to see you!" I called out, and waitied for her to turn around.
((Open to Fred.))