Sharing A Bed
He would've gone back there had he been told. But it was not important now, what is important is that Giles was here and that he was safe.
"Oz," the Watcher said under his breath seeing him standing there in the reception desk, or whatever you called that. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd check up on you, guys," the usually monosyllabic Oz explained. He thumbed on the keys of his van.
"We're fine. Buffy and the others are asleep, in their rooms."
"Drinking?" Oz asked motioning to the ice bucket Giles had between his chest and arm.
"Injury, actually," the englishman smiled rubbing his shinsand looked down. "And yes, maybe a drink or two?"
"Can I come with you? The guy told me there's no more room available for the night." He adjusted the duffel bag slung around his body.
"S--sure, that is if you don't mind sharing the bed." Giles nodded and then having realized what he had said added, "I mean, because I can't let you sleep on the floor. It's filthy, places like these."
Oz smiled a knowing smile. "I don't mind."