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#12: Memories in the Dark

Giles waited until everyone had gone to use Wexley’s camera. First, he wasn’t too sure how silly he’d look trying to use the damnable device—already he’d accidentally hit the spring-loaded panel twice during his walk, the eyepiece unfolding awkwardly in his not-quite-copious coat pocket. Secondly, he was not quite ready to answer the inevitable questions about Wexley that’d be sure to follow Newberry’s openly involving him in official Yard business.

Looking around the silent hulking machines lining the MODPFGIASA walls, Giles wasn’t entirely comfortable of the answers to said questions himself. Wexley had a reputation—several in fact—and the large diamond powering Vince’s fireplace showed he wasn’t above stooping to the low tendencies Giles’ department was working to stamp out. Not that he was accusing the man of theft; no, his mind shrank from the baseless accusation. But Vincent’s endeavors had never quite followed the letter of the law, either. Which is what make’s the fellow so blessedly useful! Giles argued to himself. The fellow simply knows all sorts of things, he oughtn’t and far be it from me to press as to why. Angie trusted him, and that’s more than enough to satisfy me.

At this last thought, Giles blanched, looking about the dark, almost menacing, office, eyes resting thoughtfully on his walking stick before moving on to the lower desk drawers in his office wherein resided an enticing bottle of amber liquid.

Steeling himself, Giles rose to his feet. “Vincent’s fault. Putting you out of sorts and into mind of that old habit,” he scolded himself. One might question why he had such a temptation at hand if the gentleman was afraid to allow himself even a restorative sip. To Giles’ mind, it was simply something one kept at the office. Like an extra pair of gloves, a must have in dire hypothetical situations but surely not something you’d ever be called upon the use.

Hating Vincent, hating him and his enigmatic weirdness, Giles flipped open the offending gentleman’s contraption and began recording the southmost wall of machinery. In truth, Giles mostly hated himself, both for his sentimental hogwash and for guilt over past mistakes best left securely shut away, much like Wexley in his house.

Yes, to introduce Mr. Vincent Wexley at MDOPFGIASA would be the gravest of mistakes.