FIC: Isolated Elements, 10/?, PG-13 (for now), Grissom/Giles
Title: Isolated Elements
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13 for the time being
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: At some point in the future, the two of them will be having hot monkey sex. Really. They will. I promise. For now, snark reigns supreme. This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
To make up for the delay of Part 9, here's Part 10.
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
Rupert woke up with a gasp, and before he had time to remember he wasn’t alone, he scrambled out of the bed and backed into the nearest corner. As he fought to slow his breathing and heart rate, he caught sight of the bed and waited to see if he’d awakened Gil with his early morning acrobatics. With the light of a single moon shining in through the window, he could make out Gil’s still form.
The lack of movement was enough to reassure him, and after a few minutes, he made his way to the dresser to pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He went into the bathroom to change and to look at his watch. After muttering, “Damn, only two hours,” he got dressed and left the suite.
~*~*~
Gil woke up slowly, taking sleepy pleasure in the absolute comfort of the bed. Given the smooth feel of the sheets, he was starting to get a glimmer of why Catherine and Sara occasionally obsessed over thread count.
It wasn’t often that he could take his time getting out of bed, and since Rupert was already up and moving, he decided to take advantage and simply enjoy the early morning sunshine.
His decadent laziness lasted all of two minutes before boredom set in.
~*~*~
Gil padded down the stairs and stopped for a quick look in the library to see if he needed to pry Rupert out for breakfast. After confirming that the room was empty, he continued to the bar room, where he found Rupert stretched out along the couch with a book in hand.
“Is there coffee?”
“I believe you’ll find fresh coffee in the kitchen.” Rupert looked up. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever say this to anyone, but loud prints suit you.”
Gil shook his head with a brief grimace. “I’m just happy none of my people will see me in this. Do you need a refill?”
“Thank you, but no. I’ve been drinking tea since I got up.”
When Gil returned, Rupert was standing at the French doors, looking out at the ocean. The book he’d been reading sat on the side table. Curious, Gil turned it so he could see the title. “Faust: Eine Tragödie. Appropriate, given what Ms. Morgan told us yesterday. Did you find it in the library?”
Without turning around, Rupert said, “No. It was waiting for me in the kitchen when I came down this morning.”
“Waiting for you?”
“Yes.” Rupert turned toward him. “It was beautifully gift wrapped with a note stating that the book is mine to keep, even should I turn down their offer of employment.”
Gil got a good look at Rupert, the bright sunlight emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes and his weary expression. “You look like hell.”
“I’m sorry,” Rupert said, his eyebrows raised. “Did I miss a conversational segue? I could have sworn we were discussing the book just a moment ago.”
“Given how exhausted you appear to be, I’m surprised you haven’t missed more.” Gil cocked his head. “I was alone when I woke up this morning. How long have you been up? Or should I be asking if you got any sleep at all last night?”
“You make an excellent mother.” The words were clipped. “However, I’m not in need of one.”
“I doubt that. Since you’re not eating or sleeping, someone needs to watch you.” At Rupert’s glare, he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it. For now.”
“For good would be better,” he grumbled.
“Do I really look like someone who gives up that easily?” Gil gave Rupert the same lazy smile he usually saved for suspects in the interrogation room.
“Oh, for the love of -” Rupert scraped his hand through his hair. “You’re not responsible for me. If anything, it’s the other way around. You wouldn’t be here if not for me.”
“The way I see it, we’re responsible for each other,” he said with a serious note in his voice. “They’re throwing a lot of temptation your way.”
“You’re right. They are.” His irritation fading as fast as it had arisen, Rupert looked at him with a thoughtful expression. “It makes me wonder if you might not be part of that temptation.”
“What? No.” Gil spoke decisively. “I’m not.”
“How do you know?”
“I -” Gil paused to gather his thoughts. Speaking carefully, he said, “For one thing, we just met. For another, I’m not a woman.”
Rupert gave him a direct look. “Jenny was my second love. Ethan was my first.”
Gil blinked. “Oh.”
“Indeed.” After giving the other man a moment to consider the implications, Rupert said, “Relax. Despite my supposition, I’m not convinced your presence here was intentional.”
“You aren’t?” After a pause, Gil asked, “Why not?”
“To be honest, you’re a bit straight-laced for my tastes.”
Vaguely offended by the description, Gil asked, “Straight-laced?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being conservative,” Rupert said apologetically. “It’s just that I tend to favor more - adventurous - types.”
“You don’t think I’m adventurous?” Gil’s voice rose slightly.
With more than a hint of impatience in his tone, Rupert said, “Considering how determined you are to dispel the notion that we’re lovers, what am I supposed to think?”
“I’m adventurous,” Gil said defensively.
Surprised by his reaction, Rupert said, “Alright, you’re adventurous.”
“I am!” Gil heard the petulance in his own voice, but he didn’t care.
“Fine - you walk on the wild side of life.”
“I ride roller coasters!”
“Wow.” Both men turned at the sound of Lilah Morgan’s voice. “You are quite the daredevil, aren’t you? If you weren’t already taken, I can tell you right now that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off a thrill-seeker like you.”
Gil stood there for a moment, looking at her in disbelief. “Are you always this nasty?”
“I’m a lawyer at Wolfram and Hart,” she said with a smile. “It’s pretty much in my job description.”
“I know nice lawyers,” he said, unwilling to roll over for her.
“Tell me, do they have to moonlight at the Doublemeat Palace to pay their bills?”
Before Gil could answer, Rupert stepped between them, saying, “Enough. The two of you can go to your separate corners for the time being.” She saluted Rupert with a tight smile while Gil shot him an irritated look. Rupert ignored him. “Lilah, the clock started as soon as you came through the door. I suggest you get started.”
“Certainly, Rupert,” she said.
“It’s Dr. Giles to you.”
~*~*~
Lilah drank the last of her orange juice, and Clem reached in to take the glass from the table and refill it before she could complain about the service. Again.
“As you can see, Wolfram and Hart has existed in one form or another for quite a few millennia, which is more than you can say for most institutions.” She turned to the next page of the binder she’d presented to Rupert the day before. “However, we don’t keep our eyes fixed on the past. Wolfram and Hart’s commitment to its objectives can be seen in its long-term planning.”
Rupert looked at the list. “I see you’ve only noted projects for the next three hundred years. Is there something I should know about?”
“You’ll find out quite a lot once you sign your employment agreement, Dr. Giles. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to make due with hints.”
Gil, his plate untouched for the last half hour, looked up and said, “I can’t believe you’re proud of the fact that your law firm introduced bubonic plague to Europe.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “Gil -” At Rupert’s objection, she said, “Mr. Grissom, please. I know you’re having a hard time with the concept, but really, we’re evil. We’re honored to have been the first group in human history to deploy biological agents as an act of undeclared war. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop repeating yourself.”
“I believe your time is up, Lilah,” Rupert said, his tone of voice brooking no argument. “Same time tomorrow?”
She looked as if she wanted to object, however she nodded once before standing to repack her briefcase. “Until tomorrow.” At the door, she turned to say, “I do hope the two of you can find something to do to keep yourselves entertained.”
Clem stepped up to the table again, this time to begin clearing away the remains of breakfast. He chattered nervously, “Wow. For a human who isn’t a Slayer, she’s kind of scary, isn’t she? There are still donuts - including jelly-filled, Mr. Giles - in the kitchen, so if you get hungry before lunch, you know where the snacks are.”
Rupert added nothing to Clem’s running commentary, and when the demon finally left them alone, he asked, “Are you certain you want to continue sitting in on these meetings? I don’t doubt it will get worse as she goes along.”
After a moment, Gil said, “How can you sit there so calmly and listen to her describe genocide?”
“The simple answer is that I’m not surprised by her revelations.” Rupert leaned forward, pinching his nose. “The Watchers’ Council isn’t as old as Wolfram and Hart - we’ve existed as a formal organization for only twelve thousand years or so - yet most of that history is well documented in our archives.”
Gil stared at Rupert for a moment. “Only twelve thousand years?”
Rupert shrugged off the question. “I’m not surprised that her firm was responsible for the spread of plague, because at the time the epidemic occurred, there was speculation that it was deliberate.”
“I’ll ask again: how can you sit there so calmly and listen to her?”
“If I don’t, I think it’s highly likely that they’ll make us quite miserable until I do,” Rupert said firmly. “While I don’t enjoy hearing about Wolfram and Hart’s dubious accomplishments, listening to Lilah drone on this morning wasn’t the worst time I’ve ever had.”
Nodding reluctantly, Gil said, “Okay, I’ve had worse moments myself. But this is going to go on for the next nineteen days, isn’t it?”
“Possibly twenty. It depends on whether or not they count yesterday as part of the contracted time.” Rupert took a deep breath. “At any rate, she’s gone for the day, and there are better ways to spend our time than to worry about a law firm’s absolute lack of ethics.”
Still upset, Gil asked, “What did you have in mind, and do you honestly think it can take my mind off mass murder?”
“If you’ll recall, there’s a lovely pool table down the hall. I hoped I could interest you in a game or two.”
On the verge of agreeing, Gil asked instead, “Don’t you have to read through the next section of the binder?”
“I read through the next several sections this morning, before you came down,” Rupert said absently as he stood up.
“I knew it!” Gil stood as well. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
Rupert stepped back. “What difference does it make?”
“If you don’t sleep, you’ll be more vulnerable to what she has to say.”
“Gil -”
“You’re going back to bed, Rupert. Now.” Gil stepped close enough to take Rupert by the arm, and he guided him down the hall and toward the staircase.
“Has it occurred to you that I’m not sleeping for a reason?” Gil didn’t let go, despite Rupert’s efforts to shake his arm free. For the first time, he started to admit to himself that his inability to sleep was affecting his ability to function.
“What reason?” Gil didn’t pause as he dragged Rupert along.
“Gil, please -”
Gil didn’t respond or release Rupert until they reached the bedroom. “Sleep deprivation is a killer, Rupert. If even half of what you and Lilah have said about Wolfram and Hart is true, we’re not going to get away from here intact unless you’re well rested.”
“I can’t,” Rupert said, angry about having to admit it.
“Can’t what? Sleep? I already figured that out. I’ll look for a sleep aid in the bathroom while you change for bed.”
“It won’t help.”
Gil stopped and turned. “What won’t help? A sleeping pill?”
“I can get to sleep easily enough, but staying that way -” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, as if to clear it.
After a moment of thought, Gil asked, “Are you having nightmares?”
“One, actually. Only the one.” Rupert stood there, tense and unhappy, refusing to meet Gil’s eyes.
“What nightmare?” He took two steps toward Rupert when he didn’t respond right away. “Rupert? What nightmare?”
He still didn’t look at Gil. He couldn’t. “It’s about Buffy. I keep dreaming of her jump off the tower.” Rupert looked up at Gil’s frozen expression. “I apologize. I had no intention of blurting it out like that.”
Gil shook his head slowly. “No, don’t apologize. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might have committed suicide.”
“She didn’t.” Rupert shoved his hands into his pockets.
“You just said she jumped off a tower. Did I miss something?”
Rupert turned away from Gil. “I think you’re right. I need to sleep.”
“Rupert -”
“Please, Gil. I don’t want -” Rupert took a steadying breath. “I can’t talk about this now. Just let me sleep.”
Gil looked at his back for a long moment. “Fine. Sleep. We’ll talk later,” he said.
In a voice tight with grief, Rupert said, “It’s too painful.”
“I know,” Gil said softly. “And I also know that even if you don’t want to talk about it, you need to talk about it.” He waited for a moment, and when Rupert didn’t respond, he left the room.
Part 11
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: PG-13 for the time being
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: At some point in the future, the two of them will be having hot monkey sex. Really. They will. I promise. For now, snark reigns supreme. This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
To make up for the delay of Part 9, here's Part 10.
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
Rupert woke up with a gasp, and before he had time to remember he wasn’t alone, he scrambled out of the bed and backed into the nearest corner. As he fought to slow his breathing and heart rate, he caught sight of the bed and waited to see if he’d awakened Gil with his early morning acrobatics. With the light of a single moon shining in through the window, he could make out Gil’s still form.
The lack of movement was enough to reassure him, and after a few minutes, he made his way to the dresser to pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He went into the bathroom to change and to look at his watch. After muttering, “Damn, only two hours,” he got dressed and left the suite.
~*~*~
Gil woke up slowly, taking sleepy pleasure in the absolute comfort of the bed. Given the smooth feel of the sheets, he was starting to get a glimmer of why Catherine and Sara occasionally obsessed over thread count.
It wasn’t often that he could take his time getting out of bed, and since Rupert was already up and moving, he decided to take advantage and simply enjoy the early morning sunshine.
His decadent laziness lasted all of two minutes before boredom set in.
~*~*~
Gil padded down the stairs and stopped for a quick look in the library to see if he needed to pry Rupert out for breakfast. After confirming that the room was empty, he continued to the bar room, where he found Rupert stretched out along the couch with a book in hand.
“Is there coffee?”
“I believe you’ll find fresh coffee in the kitchen.” Rupert looked up. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever say this to anyone, but loud prints suit you.”
Gil shook his head with a brief grimace. “I’m just happy none of my people will see me in this. Do you need a refill?”
“Thank you, but no. I’ve been drinking tea since I got up.”
When Gil returned, Rupert was standing at the French doors, looking out at the ocean. The book he’d been reading sat on the side table. Curious, Gil turned it so he could see the title. “Faust: Eine Tragödie. Appropriate, given what Ms. Morgan told us yesterday. Did you find it in the library?”
Without turning around, Rupert said, “No. It was waiting for me in the kitchen when I came down this morning.”
“Waiting for you?”
“Yes.” Rupert turned toward him. “It was beautifully gift wrapped with a note stating that the book is mine to keep, even should I turn down their offer of employment.”
Gil got a good look at Rupert, the bright sunlight emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes and his weary expression. “You look like hell.”
“I’m sorry,” Rupert said, his eyebrows raised. “Did I miss a conversational segue? I could have sworn we were discussing the book just a moment ago.”
“Given how exhausted you appear to be, I’m surprised you haven’t missed more.” Gil cocked his head. “I was alone when I woke up this morning. How long have you been up? Or should I be asking if you got any sleep at all last night?”
“You make an excellent mother.” The words were clipped. “However, I’m not in need of one.”
“I doubt that. Since you’re not eating or sleeping, someone needs to watch you.” At Rupert’s glare, he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it. For now.”
“For good would be better,” he grumbled.
“Do I really look like someone who gives up that easily?” Gil gave Rupert the same lazy smile he usually saved for suspects in the interrogation room.
“Oh, for the love of -” Rupert scraped his hand through his hair. “You’re not responsible for me. If anything, it’s the other way around. You wouldn’t be here if not for me.”
“The way I see it, we’re responsible for each other,” he said with a serious note in his voice. “They’re throwing a lot of temptation your way.”
“You’re right. They are.” His irritation fading as fast as it had arisen, Rupert looked at him with a thoughtful expression. “It makes me wonder if you might not be part of that temptation.”
“What? No.” Gil spoke decisively. “I’m not.”
“How do you know?”
“I -” Gil paused to gather his thoughts. Speaking carefully, he said, “For one thing, we just met. For another, I’m not a woman.”
Rupert gave him a direct look. “Jenny was my second love. Ethan was my first.”
Gil blinked. “Oh.”
“Indeed.” After giving the other man a moment to consider the implications, Rupert said, “Relax. Despite my supposition, I’m not convinced your presence here was intentional.”
“You aren’t?” After a pause, Gil asked, “Why not?”
“To be honest, you’re a bit straight-laced for my tastes.”
Vaguely offended by the description, Gil asked, “Straight-laced?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being conservative,” Rupert said apologetically. “It’s just that I tend to favor more - adventurous - types.”
“You don’t think I’m adventurous?” Gil’s voice rose slightly.
With more than a hint of impatience in his tone, Rupert said, “Considering how determined you are to dispel the notion that we’re lovers, what am I supposed to think?”
“I’m adventurous,” Gil said defensively.
Surprised by his reaction, Rupert said, “Alright, you’re adventurous.”
“I am!” Gil heard the petulance in his own voice, but he didn’t care.
“Fine - you walk on the wild side of life.”
“I ride roller coasters!”
“Wow.” Both men turned at the sound of Lilah Morgan’s voice. “You are quite the daredevil, aren’t you? If you weren’t already taken, I can tell you right now that I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off a thrill-seeker like you.”
Gil stood there for a moment, looking at her in disbelief. “Are you always this nasty?”
“I’m a lawyer at Wolfram and Hart,” she said with a smile. “It’s pretty much in my job description.”
“I know nice lawyers,” he said, unwilling to roll over for her.
“Tell me, do they have to moonlight at the Doublemeat Palace to pay their bills?”
Before Gil could answer, Rupert stepped between them, saying, “Enough. The two of you can go to your separate corners for the time being.” She saluted Rupert with a tight smile while Gil shot him an irritated look. Rupert ignored him. “Lilah, the clock started as soon as you came through the door. I suggest you get started.”
“Certainly, Rupert,” she said.
“It’s Dr. Giles to you.”
~*~*~
Lilah drank the last of her orange juice, and Clem reached in to take the glass from the table and refill it before she could complain about the service. Again.
“As you can see, Wolfram and Hart has existed in one form or another for quite a few millennia, which is more than you can say for most institutions.” She turned to the next page of the binder she’d presented to Rupert the day before. “However, we don’t keep our eyes fixed on the past. Wolfram and Hart’s commitment to its objectives can be seen in its long-term planning.”
Rupert looked at the list. “I see you’ve only noted projects for the next three hundred years. Is there something I should know about?”
“You’ll find out quite a lot once you sign your employment agreement, Dr. Giles. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to make due with hints.”
Gil, his plate untouched for the last half hour, looked up and said, “I can’t believe you’re proud of the fact that your law firm introduced bubonic plague to Europe.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “Gil -” At Rupert’s objection, she said, “Mr. Grissom, please. I know you’re having a hard time with the concept, but really, we’re evil. We’re honored to have been the first group in human history to deploy biological agents as an act of undeclared war. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop repeating yourself.”
“I believe your time is up, Lilah,” Rupert said, his tone of voice brooking no argument. “Same time tomorrow?”
She looked as if she wanted to object, however she nodded once before standing to repack her briefcase. “Until tomorrow.” At the door, she turned to say, “I do hope the two of you can find something to do to keep yourselves entertained.”
Clem stepped up to the table again, this time to begin clearing away the remains of breakfast. He chattered nervously, “Wow. For a human who isn’t a Slayer, she’s kind of scary, isn’t she? There are still donuts - including jelly-filled, Mr. Giles - in the kitchen, so if you get hungry before lunch, you know where the snacks are.”
Rupert added nothing to Clem’s running commentary, and when the demon finally left them alone, he asked, “Are you certain you want to continue sitting in on these meetings? I don’t doubt it will get worse as she goes along.”
After a moment, Gil said, “How can you sit there so calmly and listen to her describe genocide?”
“The simple answer is that I’m not surprised by her revelations.” Rupert leaned forward, pinching his nose. “The Watchers’ Council isn’t as old as Wolfram and Hart - we’ve existed as a formal organization for only twelve thousand years or so - yet most of that history is well documented in our archives.”
Gil stared at Rupert for a moment. “Only twelve thousand years?”
Rupert shrugged off the question. “I’m not surprised that her firm was responsible for the spread of plague, because at the time the epidemic occurred, there was speculation that it was deliberate.”
“I’ll ask again: how can you sit there so calmly and listen to her?”
“If I don’t, I think it’s highly likely that they’ll make us quite miserable until I do,” Rupert said firmly. “While I don’t enjoy hearing about Wolfram and Hart’s dubious accomplishments, listening to Lilah drone on this morning wasn’t the worst time I’ve ever had.”
Nodding reluctantly, Gil said, “Okay, I’ve had worse moments myself. But this is going to go on for the next nineteen days, isn’t it?”
“Possibly twenty. It depends on whether or not they count yesterday as part of the contracted time.” Rupert took a deep breath. “At any rate, she’s gone for the day, and there are better ways to spend our time than to worry about a law firm’s absolute lack of ethics.”
Still upset, Gil asked, “What did you have in mind, and do you honestly think it can take my mind off mass murder?”
“If you’ll recall, there’s a lovely pool table down the hall. I hoped I could interest you in a game or two.”
On the verge of agreeing, Gil asked instead, “Don’t you have to read through the next section of the binder?”
“I read through the next several sections this morning, before you came down,” Rupert said absently as he stood up.
“I knew it!” Gil stood as well. “How much sleep did you get last night?”
Rupert stepped back. “What difference does it make?”
“If you don’t sleep, you’ll be more vulnerable to what she has to say.”
“Gil -”
“You’re going back to bed, Rupert. Now.” Gil stepped close enough to take Rupert by the arm, and he guided him down the hall and toward the staircase.
“Has it occurred to you that I’m not sleeping for a reason?” Gil didn’t let go, despite Rupert’s efforts to shake his arm free. For the first time, he started to admit to himself that his inability to sleep was affecting his ability to function.
“What reason?” Gil didn’t pause as he dragged Rupert along.
“Gil, please -”
Gil didn’t respond or release Rupert until they reached the bedroom. “Sleep deprivation is a killer, Rupert. If even half of what you and Lilah have said about Wolfram and Hart is true, we’re not going to get away from here intact unless you’re well rested.”
“I can’t,” Rupert said, angry about having to admit it.
“Can’t what? Sleep? I already figured that out. I’ll look for a sleep aid in the bathroom while you change for bed.”
“It won’t help.”
Gil stopped and turned. “What won’t help? A sleeping pill?”
“I can get to sleep easily enough, but staying that way -” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, as if to clear it.
After a moment of thought, Gil asked, “Are you having nightmares?”
“One, actually. Only the one.” Rupert stood there, tense and unhappy, refusing to meet Gil’s eyes.
“What nightmare?” He took two steps toward Rupert when he didn’t respond right away. “Rupert? What nightmare?”
He still didn’t look at Gil. He couldn’t. “It’s about Buffy. I keep dreaming of her jump off the tower.” Rupert looked up at Gil’s frozen expression. “I apologize. I had no intention of blurting it out like that.”
Gil shook his head slowly. “No, don’t apologize. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might have committed suicide.”
“She didn’t.” Rupert shoved his hands into his pockets.
“You just said she jumped off a tower. Did I miss something?”
Rupert turned away from Gil. “I think you’re right. I need to sleep.”
“Rupert -”
“Please, Gil. I don’t want -” Rupert took a steadying breath. “I can’t talk about this now. Just let me sleep.”
Gil looked at his back for a long moment. “Fine. Sleep. We’ll talk later,” he said.
In a voice tight with grief, Rupert said, “It’s too painful.”
“I know,” Gil said softly. “And I also know that even if you don’t want to talk about it, you need to talk about it.” He waited for a moment, and when Rupert didn’t respond, he left the room.
Part 11