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[set during season 4 of BtVS, post-Hush]
Giles had picked up the jacket in a second hand shop in Portobello on one of his trips home. It was a little showy for his usual tastes. But, he reasoned, if one is going to have a midlife crisis, one might as well go the whole hog. He had the shiny red car, and now he had a sleekly-fitted dark velvet jacket to go with it.
The girl behind the counter ? a pretty young trustafarian (wasn't that the term now?) all bangles and piercings and mockney intonation ? told him that it had been someone rather famous who'd brought it in. Giles had never heard of the man, but then, he didn't pay much attention to actors, nowadays, though, he'd known quite a few back in the day. They all began to look the same after a while, the new crop of handsome, blonde men. Gosh, that truly is a proof of age, isn't it? Seeing the young as an indistinguishable mass.
On his return to Sunnydale, the coat lay in his closet for a while until he finally plucked up the necessary chutzpah to wear it. He knew full well that the Scoobies would mock him. But it fitted him perfectly, resting comfortably across his shoulders, and nipping in a little at the waist as all the best 70s jackets did.
One evening, Buffy called, saying she'd found some ritual symbols ? freshly painted in blood ? on the wall of a crypt. Giles slipped on the coat and headed off to meet her. As he walked down Main Street, he noticed a couple of female heads turning. He smiled. Still life in the old dog yet, eh? And, with Olivia unlikely to return any time soon after her last visit clashed with a visitation from voice-sucking fairytale monsters, he was a free agent. Perhaps he would confound all expectations and?
He tutted to himself. Although he was no longer Buffy's Watcher, he shouldn't be thinking like a giddy teenager. That never went well.
To be continued...
Giles had picked up the jacket in a second hand shop in Portobello on one of his trips home. It was a little showy for his usual tastes. But, he reasoned, if one is going to have a midlife crisis, one might as well go the whole hog. He had the shiny red car, and now he had a sleekly-fitted dark velvet jacket to go with it.
The girl behind the counter ? a pretty young trustafarian (wasn't that the term now?) all bangles and piercings and mockney intonation ? told him that it had been someone rather famous who'd brought it in. Giles had never heard of the man, but then, he didn't pay much attention to actors, nowadays, though, he'd known quite a few back in the day. They all began to look the same after a while, the new crop of handsome, blonde men. Gosh, that truly is a proof of age, isn't it? Seeing the young as an indistinguishable mass.
On his return to Sunnydale, the coat lay in his closet for a while until he finally plucked up the necessary chutzpah to wear it. He knew full well that the Scoobies would mock him. But it fitted him perfectly, resting comfortably across his shoulders, and nipping in a little at the waist as all the best 70s jackets did.
One evening, Buffy called, saying she'd found some ritual symbols ? freshly painted in blood ? on the wall of a crypt. Giles slipped on the coat and headed off to meet her. As he walked down Main Street, he noticed a couple of female heads turning. He smiled. Still life in the old dog yet, eh? And, with Olivia unlikely to return any time soon after her last visit clashed with a visitation from voice-sucking fairytale monsters, he was a free agent. Perhaps he would confound all expectations and?
He tutted to himself. Although he was no longer Buffy's Watcher, he shouldn't be thinking like a giddy teenager. That never went well.
To be continued...
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