Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just messing around.
Rupert Giles shifted his weight awkwardly, glancing quickly at the black-haired woman who stood before him. He could think of no further excuses to prolong staying in her presence- and yet he could not bring himself to voice what he truly wanted to. Had Buffy seen him now, he knew she would have piled endless sarcastic jabs at him for his lack of "lady-killing vibes," as she had once quipped. As it was, the silence between them had stretched to such an awkward length that he would almost have been relieved for her to pop up, just to give him an excuse to let himself off the hook. Who was he kidding- to let himself chicken out. For the third time.
"Well, well, it was lovely to talk to you," he mumbled, "quite lovely. Quite..."
He tugged at his shirt collar, averting his eyes and wanting to strangle himself. He could not possibly sound any more sodding foolish.
"Oh yes, Rupert- should you wish to speak again- for us to- I mean- that would be very nice," the woman replied, sounding nearly as flustered as he had. He did not look, but had he done so, he would have seen her flushing.
"Well, well," he mumbled feebly. "Good- good day to you, Mrs. McGonagall."
"Oh, it's Miss McGonagall," she corrected him hurriedly. "But you- you can call me Minerva, Rupert."
"Yes- yes, Minerva, then," Giles replied, fidgeting. "Good day- Minerva..."
He stood for a few moments more, than made himself turn, beginning to walk away.
You bloody idiot, he thought, disgusted, she must think you a prat...
But his downcast eyes did not take in the sight of Minerva McGonagall, still standing where he had left her, face lined and wistful as she deliberately thinned her lips, shaking her head in resignment.