A video feed cuts on suddenly, the image wobbling around and accompanied by a high-pitched beeping for a moment, until it settles into stability and silence. The screen shows a wide-angle view of a double bed, occupied by two bodies, one of which is a grumbling Giles, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face
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"Giles! I-I'm sorry. I can c-call back later. I just - I needed to ask you something. It's kind of urgent, but not like.. the city's about to burn down urgent. Right." She's making a mess of this and knows it.
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On the other hand, Ethan knows Tara- quite well, from his perspective, and he's been fond of her since before they were ever close. (He remembers her dying, too, but Taxon is a place where that doesn't necessarily matter and he prefers to be grateful she's here than mourn it like she's still dead. Maybe Joyce will show up.)
"Tara, darling," he says, picking up his tablet. "What's going on?"
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That's...a conceivable explanation, he concedes, at least here in Taxon. In a manner of speaking he is, anyway, but that far? And he knows how much time there was between Giles meeting her and his meeting her; not a lot.
...but maybe he should just play along until he knows what's going on.
"Ethan Rayne. Purveyor of fine magical artifacts and cheap crystal balls until the hellmouth ate my store."
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"No," he says, carefully, after pausing. "There was really only the one."
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"Well," he says, philosophically, "this is a pickle. You know Rupert and the Box, but you don't know me. I might have my feelings hurt."
He's a little sardonic, yes, but it's thinly veiling genuine puzzlement and concern. What the fuck is going on here?
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"It isn't completely unheard of, I suppose," he notes, more to himself than to Tara, thinking of might-have-beens and wondering what this might be, but he rubs his mouth with one hand and refocuses on her.
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"Oh, yes. And I'm buggered if I can explain why we wouldn't have." No, he can think of a few explanations- but none he'd want to think about. (Tara wouldn't have to know him well to recognize 'troubled', but it flickers across his face and is gone, suppressed.) "Like I said, darling, it's a pickle."
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"I guess it's... nice to meet you, then. Again."
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With quick flashing smile - rakish and a bit untrustworthy, but genuinely friendly - he tucks away what worries him with what seems like no effort at all. "You're always a sight for sore eyes, love, even when you're making that face at me."
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"It could be worse. You're not dating Xander too, are you?"
Ethan would be horrified to realize just how much he sounds like Somebody's Dad there, by the way.
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