[ Giles isn't waiting when Sharky gets there, but he's not terribly far behind. When he does arrive, he doesn't actually look all that bad, for all his complaining he's still as put-together as always. Not hair out of place, posture picture perfect, suit well pressed, it would take more than a casual glance to find the places where stuffing is peeking through the seams. If Sharky's looking close enough, there's a tiredness behind his eyes and subtle sluggishness to his movements that betrays how truly dreadful he's feeling.
He's very nearly tempted to order five coffees as he takes a seat at the same table as Sharky. He doesn't. But he's tempted. Instead he gets an espresso. A double shot.
Giles doesn't say anything by way of greeting, just stares at the table like it might tell him where his brain got put, and makes a quiet noise that might be a groan. ]
no subject
He's very nearly tempted to order five coffees as he takes a seat at the same table as Sharky.
He doesn't.
But he's tempted.
Instead he gets an espresso.
A double shot.
Giles doesn't say anything by way of greeting, just stares at the table like it might tell him where his brain got put, and makes a quiet noise that might be a groan. ]