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There's a new high school librarian. The old "high school librarian" was a cash-strapped student aide of sorts; apparently it's hard to keep staff working on the Hell Orifice. His name is Mr. Giles. He is British. And sort of old. And sort of crusty. And when Bella takes out certain books he looks at her with certain scrutiny.

"Is my new librarian a Watcher?" she asks Sherlock the day after Mr. Giles joins the faculty.
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"Probably. Would you like me to find out?"

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"Yes please. I think asking would probably draw more attention to me than the books on witchcraft I took out already did. As-is he may just think I'm a budding Wicca."

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"I will do that, then. And I will avoid contact in case it interferes with diplomatic relations later."

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"He seems fairly nice, from what little I've seen," remarks Bella. "I could easily have done worse. But I'm obviously not sure yet that I want to introduce myself. Well, except in the sense that I already handed him my student ID to check out books, and it has my name on it."

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"Then I will investigate him thoroughly," Sherlock promises.

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"Thanks! You are handy. Tonight's neighborhood is farther away. You want in the truck or do you want to show off again?"

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"Truck," he decides. "May as well."

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She gets in the cab and unlocks the passenger door for him.

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In he hops! He even does up his seatbelt.

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Off Bella drives. She is a lawful and cautious driver, even in the deserted Sunnydale night.

The crossing of the neighborhood proceeds without incident. It's really very quiet around here since she started her daily morgue visits. The morgue is getting less and less crowded; some days there aren't even bodies to mini-stake.
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That suits Sherlock just fine.

Well, for now. Endless nights of following her around while she paints crosses on things uneventfully might get tedious.
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"Five more neighborhoods to go, the way I have it blocked out," Bella says, "and then I figure out something else constructive to do, possibly learn martial arts."

(She's kind of bored with this too, really.)
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"Definitely learn martial arts," he says. "I expect that to be reasonably engaging."

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"I expect so too. I dreaded anything resembling exercise before I activated, but it's definitely on this side of fun now that it comes easier and less... well. Clumsily."

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"I was a killing machine even before I became a soulless bloodsucking fiend, so I have no comparable experience."

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"...I am uncertain whether to congratulate you or pity you," muses Bella. "Say. Is there anyone in town you talk to besides me? ...Kitten poker buddies?" she asks, recalling something along those lines, as they pass the alley he identified as leading to the demon bar.

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He snorts. "Not really."

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"That sounds lonesome." Bella hasn't exactly made friends at school, but she's made people-she-can-sit-with-at-lunch.

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"People frequently bore me, and then I am usually tempted to eat them, and I have been refraining," he says with a shrug.

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"And now I feel like I ought to ask for a public service announcement of some kind on what bores you."

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"Unlikely to help. 'Dull', in my experience, is a personality trait rather than a set of behaviours."

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"And one that people stably do or do not have?"

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"Stably do, more often than any kind of don't."

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"I think you will take my meaning when I say that's not quite the information I was fishing for."

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"If you would like me to tell you whether or not you will one day suddenly become boring, believe me, so would I. I don't expect it, at any rate."

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