"I'm afraid they do." This time, Giles doesn't feel his usual annoyance at being mistaken for a child. This entire situation really is that ridiculous. He is over a foot shorter than everyone present. At least, fighting the supernatural, there's usually not an organization to join that really shouldn't let him.
He stands, surrounded by other homunculus at a cordoned off building that was apparently a museum. The rest of the "squad" are moving around and talking in low voices to one another. There's a body visible on the front steps, its skull caved in.
"Sorry, just a moment." Giles checks his notebook. That's one upside, at least. No one is looking at him funny for taking notes. Smiling in an annoyingly patronizing fashion over his head and making remarks about his status as a rookie, and how it's a rookie thing to do. But it's appropriate, in this strange little pocket dimension, and so Giles is grateful for small mercies.
"Ah, yes. The proprietor was murdered 'last night'. No one saw anything. Several important pieces were taken, including a few historic ones brought to this location for temporary display. Due to your familiarity with archeology and ancient history as a member of Customs, you have been brought in as an advisor."
He looks up at Martha and shrugs helplessly. She looks somehow realer than everything else here, including the general environment. That, combined with the fact that she looks as uncertain as he feels, tell Giles that another unfortunate resident of the mansion has wandered into this mess.
At this point, however, Giles realizes that the scene is taking a turn for the..."odd", again. They're subtle clues, but he's starting to pick up on them, at least in part as a result of necessity to avoid getting hit by a car. Some of the homunculus are starting to mutter in a more purposeful fashion, and he feels that they're both being stared at intently. Expectantly, in fact.
Giles tries not to panic, or freeze, at this realization. He's been fumbling his own way through this mess as it is. He's not sure he can be the least bit of help to someone else.
no subject
He stands, surrounded by other homunculus at a cordoned off building that was apparently a museum. The rest of the "squad" are moving around and talking in low voices to one another. There's a body visible on the front steps, its skull caved in.
"Sorry, just a moment." Giles checks his notebook. That's one upside, at least. No one is looking at him funny for taking notes. Smiling in an annoyingly patronizing fashion over his head and making remarks about his status as a rookie, and how it's a rookie thing to do. But it's appropriate, in this strange little pocket dimension, and so Giles is grateful for small mercies.
"Ah, yes. The proprietor was murdered 'last night'. No one saw anything. Several important pieces were taken, including a few historic ones brought to this location for temporary display. Due to your familiarity with archeology and ancient history as a member of Customs, you have been brought in as an advisor."
He looks up at Martha and shrugs helplessly. She looks somehow realer than everything else here, including the general environment. That, combined with the fact that she looks as uncertain as he feels, tell Giles that another unfortunate resident of the mansion has wandered into this mess.
At this point, however, Giles realizes that the scene is taking a turn for the..."odd", again. They're subtle clues, but he's starting to pick up on them, at least in part as a result of necessity to avoid getting hit by a car. Some of the homunculus are starting to mutter in a more purposeful fashion, and he feels that they're both being stared at intently. Expectantly, in fact.
Giles tries not to panic, or freeze, at this realization. He's been fumbling his own way through this mess as it is. He's not sure he can be the least bit of help to someone else.