8018/Airing It Out

Airing It Out
Date of Scene:	23 June 2019
Location:	The Magic Box, Sunnydale
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Rupert Giles, Spike

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Rupert Giles has posed:
He's been away for a while. And by 'a while'... it's been weeks. Rupert Giles finds himself alone in the Magic Box for the first time in ages, idly dusting shelves and returning things to their rightful place (ie: the place he thinks they should be). He's re-familiarizing himself with the inventory and with being 'home' as he defines it, and-- truth be told-- he's enjoying himself. It's been too long since he's been able to enjoy a quiet afternoon of low-stress retail bliss.

Spike has posed:
Rupert Giles /was/ alone as the door opens. The heavy thud of boots signals Spike's arrival as the chipped vampire strides in as if looking for something.g...then looks around. "Alright" he calls and looks around the Magic Box then grits his teeth again. "Okay....Spike's in a relatively good mood....for Spike. Which is to say he's fought earlier. And he's definitely happy.

Rupert Giles has posed:
Aaaaand there goes his happy. Spike walks in, and Giles's zen slips out the open door. He turns, frowns faintly, and finds himself making a minor effort to look as though he isn't irritated by the intrusion. A very minor effort. "Oh, lovely. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company?"

Spike has posed:
"I'm after something magical" Spike says, as if he's trying to rile up Giles. He's not, really. He does though sigh. "I'm after...." he pauses. shaking his head. "A way to prove I'm not evil" he says softly, standing /right/ there, watching Giles as Spike puts hands in pockets, then shakes his head. "Not that you're interested, are you?" he asks with a cynical tone to his voice.

Rupert Giles has posed:
There might be a bit of strain around the Watcher's eyes as he eyes the vampire, or he may just be overtired. The plane got in late last night-- well, early this morning, if he's being accurate-- and he prioritized getting his suitcase unpacked and his flat in order over getting any amount of sleep. Spike's arrival isn't exactly helping him feel 'perky'. Still, he raises a brow at Spike's request: "Pardon me?" The duster is set carefully on the shelf, and Giles faces Spike, cocking his head. "You realize there are better ways to prove you're not evil than relying on... ah... magic?" His tone becomes noticeably drier. "Have you tried, perhaps, not -being- evil?"

Spike has posed:
Spike throws up his hands. "Look. I got this bloody chip in my head that won't let me hurt humans, alright? I want to prove to the world I'm not evil on my own sodding legs" Spike grouses, as if removing the chip (which he knows won't happen) would somehow validate his I ain't evil....claims. Still....Spike grits his teeth. "Magic can help me. Giles. Magic can help. Also. I need relationship advice"

Well that's a new one.....

Rupert Giles has posed:
The lifted brow does not lower itself... and the other one joins it abruptly at the unexpected request. "I-- excuse me?" Giles,it should be noted, does not have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships. Most of them are dead. "Ah... well. I suppose I can... make the attempt. I am assuming this involves..." He trails off, brows still raised, then clears his throat sharply. "--Ahem. At any rate, I don't see precisely how you think magic can prove anything more than your actions would."

Spike has posed:
Spike taps a foot. "You heard me Giles" he said. "Look. I'm a man. u're a man. I want relationship advice" he says. "Oh come on. Let me explain. I'm not gay. I swear it. I just...I like somebody and you're a man, and I thought you'd help with a relationship advice thing...I...." Spike says digging further and further into this hole...."Basically. I like somebody. And you've had relationships. I thought you could help with mine...you know, pointers and....uh..." Spike says well aware how it sounds. Either he's accidentally begging Giles to show him a good time....or he's asking the watcher for relationship advice and managing too sepctacularlly show how awful he is. Worse than Xander....somehow. "Look. I like somebody, okay. And. And I don't know how to proceed. You know.....I....look. Can we just do one of those sit down sessions?"

Spike is so so screwed right now...."I meant talk about it. Not....never mind. You probably think I came in here after a drink at the Bronze. no. I'm sober" Spike groans.

Rupert Giles has posed:
If Giles was drinking tea, it would have been sprayed all over the nearest bookshelf. He's not, but the impression is much the same as if he had been: he goes a bit pale, stutters something unintelligibly British, and then abruptly turns away. "No, Spike. We can't do one of those-- ....Ah, 'sit-down sessions'. Not sober, at least, if you are indeed such." And certainly not with HIM sober. He paces towards the counter, and very deliberately puts it between himself and Spike. Then, taking a deep breath, Giles seems to steel himself for what's to come. "Alright, so. You... ah, 'like', someone. Can you be more specific?" Where the hell is my bottle of scotch?

Spike has posed:
Spike sighs. "I can get you one from the Bronze. Call it you'll need this. Okay. You remember Willow and I were a thing in school? Well Oz is back in town. So. I like the Slayer" Spike says....and....admits it. "She's cute, funny, punches me....and.....I think she likes me. She pinned me to the floor and slapped me, Giles" Spike admits and looks amused. "Actually....I'll take my own Scotch bottle" Spike says. "I need it for this...." he adds and wishes he'd brought one. He /could/ run to the Bronze and 'borrow' one. But.....he's too invested, plus that reaction from Giles was priceless

Rupert Giles has posed:
The scotch is below the counter, tucked safely in the very back corner on one of the dustiest shelves. He could just reach down there, subtly, and grab it. But as Spike continues to give him -entirely- too much information, Rupert Giles realizes with a deeply sinking sensation that there isn't enough alcohol in the world to make this insane conversation tolerable. "I-- what?" She pins him to the floor and-- "I-- there's... a word for that." It's called 'masochism', Spike. Abruptly, Giles seems to put everything together, and his expression becomes more severe. Wait, stay away from my Slayer. "Have you spoken with Buffy about this?" Please say no.

Spike has posed:
Spike groans. "She got me to patrol with her. I accepted. It's....this.....agreement. She brings me bllood. I help her dust vampires. It's....it's....." Spike says. "I haven't. See. I was gonna but I neeed to sit down with her and discuss this and take her damn stake off her first" Spike grouses and really....really could use scotch. "See....the thing is....she gets me. I had to rescue her the other night. She was mad at me but got over it. Sorta" Spike admits, realizing how he sounds.

Rupert Giles has posed:
"I..." Nope, nope. Scotch is required. With a deep sigh, Giles gives Spike a pointed glare, then ducks beneath the counter and fishes out the bottle. It's a good bottle, too-- two dusty glasses come with it. Before replying, the Watcher pours two generous fingers for each... and he pours himself something a bit more generous than what he pours Spike, who can blame him? It's better than pulling out a stake, which a very repressed part of him briefly considers. After hissing his breath out through his teeth after a good swig, Giles sets the heavy glass down carefully and eyes Spike over the rims of his glasses. "Buffy choosing to tolerate your presence is not necessarily an indication of... 'feeling'... on her part, you realize?"

Spike has posed:
Spike downs both fingers immediateely. "Yeah. Yeah But. She's attractive....and....helps me out..and....stuff" Spike adds weakly. He knows Giles is right.But....he's still arguing his point