SMACK! Giles startled back from the bundle of red pasteboard rectangles that had just been dropped into the middle of the pages of his book. He'd been deep enough into his reading that it took him a moment to connect the interruption with the presence of a second person in his office. He looked up at her in annoyance.
Debi Marble, the high school secretary, was closing the flaps of the cardboard box that she was holding parked over one well-curved mini-skirted hip.
"New directive from Herr Snyder," she said in a voice thick with boredom and chewing gum. "As per new City Council Directive ninety-eight dash one thousand twenty three point nine bee: 'Every City and County controlled building within City limits shall prominently display a sign, no smaller than eleven and one quarter inches by thirteen and one half inches, advising the user public and employees and all variant passers-by of said building of the City's policy, pursuant to the City's concern for the Health, Safety and Physical Fitness of all citizens and employees and for the reduction of fire hazards and for the preservation of public property and for the reduction of costs due to increasing premiums on employee health insurance policies, of allowing no burning of materials within said buildings, including but not limited to tobacco, incense, and any combustibly ingested pharmaceuticals.'"
Giles picked up the packet of signs. 'NO SMOKING' each one of them said.
"You've gotta post them every ten feet," the secretary said, and popped her gum. "On walls that are longer than ten feet but shorter than twenty you'll need to place two at proportional distances from the end walls, except when the room is rectangular. The posting guidelines, including the distance calculation formulas are on those papers there." She tapped a sheaf of papers that were fixed to the bottom of the pile.
Giles flipped over the papers, cringing at the small print.
"You'll need 'em in your office too," she continued. "When you need more signs we got boxes and boxes of them in the front office. You'll also be responsible for making sure the signs are enforced." She handed him a thick paper binder. "Enforcement policy. The fire marshall will be here tomorrow to make sure everything's copacetic. Oh, and Herr Snyder says he wants it all done right the first time." She dropped the box on his desk and pulled herself up to sit on the edge. "You wanna go out after six and get smashed on margaritas?"
Giles glanced up at her. "I heard that you were dating Mr. Henderson."
She rolled her eyes. "Last time I went out with him, he stiffed me for half the bill. I'm tired of going out with cheap jackasses."
If the grape-vine could be believed, she'd already worked her way through every single man, and a few of the married ones, on faculty. Giles refrained from commenting on that. He suspected that it was her perception of him as a gentleman that had kept him on the bottom of her list of prospects.
Still . . . Giles found himself looking up at the woman, not quite to the level of her face but more in line with the ropes and ropes of crystal beads that looped around her neck and dipped tantalizingly down her chest. She was wearing a low cut tight pink sweater and very obviously a push-up bra. He shook his head loose from the view, more than a little annoyed at himself for even momentarily envisioning himself taking her up on her proposition. More of the Band Candy aftereffect, obviously. "Not tonight. I have -- uh -- research. And these." He pushed the signs to one side in disgust.
She grinned at him -- a twinkling roguish bit of a grin -- ran a hand through her frowzy bleached blond bob and snatched up her box to slink out the door. "Catch you on a rain check then," her voice drifted back.
"Mmm-hmm," said Giles, already back into his book. Then he looked up. Did she --? He realized that he hadn't been as discouraging as he should have been to her invitation. He got up and hurried out of his office, but she'd already made her exit from the library. He ran to the big double doors, where he barely avoided a collision with three incoming Slayerettes.
"Hey Giles, what's the rush?" Xander said, as he edged aside to let the Librarian move through to the outside hallway.
"Some menacing demon?" Cordelia said, with just a touch of eagerness.
"Not as such, no," Giles said unhappily as he tried to catch a glimpse of the secretary among the throngs of students. "You didn't happen to see Ms. Marble come through?"
"No!" Willow squeaked, looking at Giles in alarm. "Giles, you don't know her! I mean, she's -- uhm -- pretty and all but she's -- I don't think she's your type."
He looked at her with annoyance. "Willow, I may be relatively isolated as the school librarian, but you can't think that I don't hear any of the faculty gossip. Much as I'd rather avoid it."
Willow looked deflated. "Oh."
"She bought three boxes of that Band Candy," Cordelia said as they moved into the library. "And she ate them all in one afternoon. Nobody noticed a shred of difference in her personality."
Giles made a heroic effort to prevent his inward cringe from surfacing. He didn't want to think about the Band Candy incident any more than absolutely necessary. "Yes, well I'll be in my office. There's nothing that needs researching right away so you can all leave if you like."
Willow and Xander trailed him into the office nonetheless, and stood at the door peering at him. Giles glared back at them, feeling rather like a caged bear under observation for some brain disorder. "Look, if you don't have anything better to do --"
"Um, Giles," Xander said. "We wanted you to know that if we can help -- uh that is if you need to talk to anybody about uh --"
"About any weird stuff that maybe might have happened last night --" Willow continued.
Giles picked up the packet of signs. "These need to be posted before tomorrow."
"Right!" Willow said enthusiastically. "Wow! Just what we were hoping to help with!" She pulled out the sheaf of papers and started to read the instructions for posting the signs. Her face fell.
"Good. Then I can get on with my research." He turned back to his book.
"Uhm, okay," Willow said. She flipped to the back of the list then forward again.
"So?" Xander was saying to her as they shuffled out of the office. "How long can it take to post a couple of signs?"
"We better get a tape measure and level from the custodian," she said unhappily. "And I guess we need some special tape too. But some of these instructions don't seem to make any sense."
Giles tried to concentrate on his reading, but he was having a sudden tortured yearning for a cigarette. Two lapses, one over a year ago, and suddenly sixteen years of abstinence meant nothing. He peered guiltily out his office door into the library. Xander and Willow were over by the main doors, trying to figure out where the first sign should go. He opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out a half- full pack. It had been in his coat pocket when he'd been heading out for work this morning. He'd meant to toss it in the dumpster on his way in, but he'd forgotten.
Better flush it down the toilet now, or he'd be thinking about it all evening. He had more than enough distractions without adding to them. Giles stuffed the pack in his jacket pocket and headed out the office door.
Xander and Willow had managed to agree on a spot for the first sign, but Cordelia was having none of it. "It's crooked," she said. "Look are you going to believe me or that bubble thingy?"
"Giles!" Willow said. "Does it look straight to you?"
"Yes yes wonderful." He scurried out the doors, then poked his head back in. "If Buffy shows, tell her I'll be back in a minute."
The students had dispersed like wind-blown smoke, and the hallway was now filled with teachers who'd been drafted to help post the signs. It was already past 5 o'clock and most of them were off shift. None of them looked happy. Some of them were muttering imprecations concerning the ever- ineffective teacher's union, but open rebellion hadn't yet taken a grip. Giles hurried to the faculty rest rooms and ducked inside before anybody could call on him for assistance.
A number of male teachers were crowded inside, all of them smoking furiously. The smell of burning tobacco was heavy in the air. Their huddle muted at Giles' entrance and they all turned to regard him suspiciously.
"Just passing through," he said. As an afterthought, he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and flashed them. Apparently that qualified him as a card- carrying friend to his disgruntled colleagues. Several of them smiled and nodded at him and they all returned to their mutual rant.
Giles hesitated. Oddly enough he didn't want to give up even this vague sense of camaraderie with his errant fellow employees. By flushing the cigarettes in the midst of a fermenting rebellion, he would only alienate himself further from the people he worked with. All right, he was a disciplined adult. He'd abstained from tobacco for fifteen years. He could do so for a few more hours.
He put the pack back into his jacket pocket, washed his hands at the basin, and left again. He had the uncomfortable feeling of being a teenager going along with the crowd because he couldn't bear their disapproval. Yet another subtle, lingering aftereffect of the Band Candy.
"Damn," he said, and headed out towards the back of the building, where he could dispose of the cigarettes in the dumpsters without being seen.