Room 504, Sunday Morning
Nov. 20th, 2011 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleynotponcySince his conversation with Tara on Friday, Wesley had been spending most of his time lost in research about whatever was happening to the multiverse, and thus far it was inconclusive. Book after book had proved unhelpful, so finally, exasperated, he picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.
"This number has been disconnected," reported the recording on the other end of the line. "Please hang up and dial—"
How odd.
Well, he tried to rationalize, it wasn't as though Mr. Giles had ever been entirely savvy with technology. He tried Willow's number instead, doing his best to ignore that creeping wary feeling that was rising to the surface.
Willow's chipper voice answered, and for a moment Wesley foolishly felt reassured.
"Hello?"
"Yes – hello – Willow, it's Wesley. Ah, Wyndam-Pryce."
As though she knew other Wesleys.
"Oh, hey, Wes." A slight muffled sound as Willow cupped her hand over the receiver and told whoever was nearby, "It's Wesley." There was a soft pfft noise in the background and Wesley suppressed a scoff. Yes, thank you for that, Buffy. Then, more clearly, Willow asked, "What's up?"
"I was actually hoping to speak with Mr. Giles," Wesley said, and had to sternly remind himself that he was not allowed to bite his lip in uncertainty, damnit. "I had some difficulty reaching him this morning and I thought you might be able to put me in touch with him."
But the chances of that didn't look great, because all Willow responded with was a "Who?"
Oh, this was bad. This was very bad.
"Ah – Mr. Giles," Wesley repeated, utterly failing to get his voice not to waver. "Rup—Rupert Giles." Hopefully, he tried, "Buffy's Watcher?"
Willow made an uncertain little sound, then the line went muffled again as she asked someone else something inaudible. After a minute she was back, asking in what sounded like true concern, "Um… who's Buffy?"
[[door and post open]]
"This number has been disconnected," reported the recording on the other end of the line. "Please hang up and dial—"
How odd.
Well, he tried to rationalize, it wasn't as though Mr. Giles had ever been entirely savvy with technology. He tried Willow's number instead, doing his best to ignore that creeping wary feeling that was rising to the surface.
Willow's chipper voice answered, and for a moment Wesley foolishly felt reassured.
"Hello?"
"Yes – hello – Willow, it's Wesley. Ah, Wyndam-Pryce."
As though she knew other Wesleys.
"Oh, hey, Wes." A slight muffled sound as Willow cupped her hand over the receiver and told whoever was nearby, "It's Wesley." There was a soft pfft noise in the background and Wesley suppressed a scoff. Yes, thank you for that, Buffy. Then, more clearly, Willow asked, "What's up?"
"I was actually hoping to speak with Mr. Giles," Wesley said, and had to sternly remind himself that he was not allowed to bite his lip in uncertainty, damnit. "I had some difficulty reaching him this morning and I thought you might be able to put me in touch with him."
But the chances of that didn't look great, because all Willow responded with was a "Who?"
Oh, this was bad. This was very bad.
"Ah – Mr. Giles," Wesley repeated, utterly failing to get his voice not to waver. "Rup—Rupert Giles." Hopefully, he tried, "Buffy's Watcher?"
Willow made an uncertain little sound, then the line went muffled again as she asked someone else something inaudible. After a minute she was back, asking in what sounded like true concern, "Um… who's Buffy?"
[[door and post open]]
