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There was a note in her inbox this afternoon: Please see me after your last class. -Giles.

When she comes to his office, this time there's nobody there but him and Ms. Harkness.

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Well, and Philippus.

"Hello," she says, nodding to both. She closes the door behind her, trying to get more of a sense of the mood. "Has the situation changed?"

Besides that nifty little aspect they aren't aware of yet, of course.

"Not that we're aware of," says Ms. Harkness, a little shortly.

For what it's worth, her impatience doesn't seem to be directed at Phillippus herself.

Giles says calmly: "I'm wondering if you've formed any opinions about your Slayers yet, after our last discussion."

She nods, glancing between them, settling back into her chair. They're not going to like this.

"In a sense, yes. I don't believe we have anyone in the students' ranks who's suited to uphold a deception like this right now." She stresses the specification slightly. "I did come up with another option."

Harkness looks up, her wispy eyebrows rising.

"Well, by all means let's hear it then."

"I've got classes to teach and groups to lead, yes, but I am a recent instructor and my absence can be replaced. If I can keep anyone out of danger by going myself, I'll do it." One mortal life is worth more. . . "I can pass for a Slayer, and while I have little experience in undercover work," this being her first attempt; no matter how harmless her intentions, she isn't giving the whole story, "I'm used to thinking on my feet and I can remember what I said."

There's a pause, and Giles leans forward, his brow furrowing.

"Ms. Ryder, do you mean to tell us that you're volunteering yourself?"

"Yes." She turns her head a little to meet his eyes. "We have no idea what we're really sending the girls into. I can't be sure whose skills would best fit the situation. I don't want to send anyone into something I wouldn't do myself, and I haven't been able to think of anything that disqualifies me. I'm a recent addition. I've never gone anywhere on Council business before, and since I've spent most of my career on a secluded island, I've no real reputation of my own, either."

"Years of combat experience and no prior public career," Harkness repeats, starting to smile.

Slowly, Giles takes off his glasses and draws out a handkerchief.

"Given that my first inclination is to say out of the question," he says mildly, "perhaps the two of you can convince me otherwise. Ms. Ryder, I do appreciate your willingness to put yourself in danger for your students, but you are not a Slayer."

"No, I'm not; but I can match one." And if she has to, match can turn into go rocketing right by. Dreams are one thing; three thousand years of doing are another. "I was thought to be one when I didn't claim to be anything at all."

"And you'll remember how long we were arguing the point, Rupert." She taps her fingers on the edge of the desk. "Even after our seers swore up and down that she couldn't possibly be one."

"Yes," he says. "And do we really want to present Wolfram and Hart with an ambiguity? A puzzle that cries out to be solved?"

"You could tell me how to appear simple. It was my fighting style that was a real clue, if I understand the evidence you saw. But that was when I was acting as an instructor and I had to do all I could. If I present myself as a student, I can just use a basic style and do no more than they teach me."

"You're also overlooking the fact that if they do see a puzzle to be solved, the solution -- in the unlikely event they discover it -- doesn't point anywhere near us. Which protects both our interests and Ms. Ryder's safety."

Harkness sounds practically smug about this.

"And although this does put something else to remember on my shoulders, it's not something I usually share. Any of the girls would still have the same amount of cover to maintain."

Giles finishes cleaning his glasses, but does not yet replace them; he stands a moment holding them loosely in one hand, looking from Phillippus to Ms. Harkness and back again.

"We'll need to consider this," he says finally.

Philippus smiles a little, comfortingly; the whole idea does rather turn the Council's plan on its head. (But that's what it needed, really, so she doesn't have much apology.) "I'll continue as usual until I hear from you."

"Er, yes. Please do."

He finally replaces his glasses on his nose, and tucks away his handkerchief.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Ryder."

"And for your suggestions," Harkness adds, rising to her feet and reaching to shake Phillippus's hand.

Her handshake is accepted, and the smile changes notes a little. It's. . . well, there's still a basic problem with the Amazon general needing very much to get her act in gear and learn to actually lie. But otherwise, it's a plan she's more secure with than throwing a Slayer into the wolf's den.

"I'm glad to be of help."

She's sure she'd be of more use there than here.

As Phillippus leaves the office, she may overhear Mr. Giles's voice, low and intent: "Catherine, you know this isn't --" until the closing door cuts off his words.

Whatever it isn't, they'll be discussing it for a while.

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