It's highly implausible anyone had managed to get here without any sort of ability to defend themselves, and as someone who's an expert on demons, who often disguise themselves as innocent humans, Giles is far from uncritical. But he doesn't win anything by being openly hostile, and he likes to retain what remnants of civilization he can in this absurd world.

"Please do have a seat," he says politely, in the disarming upper-crust British accent that makes most people dismiss him as a physical threat. Giles gestures toward one of the chairs set around the map-table. "It's our general policy to make contact with anyone moving through the area, so Buffy brought you in as a matter of protocol. No thanks necessary.

"My name is Rupert Giles. Would you like something to drink? I'm afraid our only coffee is instant." Not that he drinks it, but he's hoping she's like most Americans and won't ask for his precious tea supply. The offer itself is meant to set his visitor at ease, lull them into old, often forgotten habits of human cooperation and courtesy...