"I only lied a little bit" stops being a good answer when you're about five. Maybe we ought to get a few things clear right now: l don't trust you, and the more lies you tell me, the less likely it is that I'm going to help you. If I haven't told Giles yet that you've been in contact with me, then you ought to remember that the important word there? Is "yet."
If I help you at all, it's because I'm not willing to risk assuming that you're lying about there being something dangerous coming. If you are, it'd be a good idea to tell me now. But I'm willing to believe, for right now anyway, that there's a chance you're not, that there's actually something out there that we ought to know about.
I may be able to help you. Before I agree to anything, though, tell me what you want from me--I know, help to get away from where you are, but tell me what you're asking me to do. I don't think that's too much to ask, considering.
My dear Ms. Rosenburg,
I do apologize for the delay in my response. I'll not bore you with the details, but things have become rather interesting in my unhappy little corner of the world.
I can see by your letter, however, that you have, as they say, come into your own. I can certainly appreciate your apprehension regarding my request. I note, however, that you have responded. Furthermore, I assume, based on the tone of your letter that your desire to tell Giles is still just that – a desire. I find that very interesting…promising, even. Curiosity, after all, is good for more than killing cats.
That said, I'm afraid that your suspicion, to a point, is justified. I must admit to a small deception on my part. Yes, I know. You had assumed as much. Be that as it may, the deception (and again, I remind you that it is small) was in the implication that Rupert's knowledge of the situation would be a danger. While that may in fact be true, the real reason I wish his ignorance is rather more personal in nature. Nothing sinister, simply a desire to stay off his radar. As much as I'd like for things to be different, events generally end badly when we are in contact. I'm certain he thinks that I am dead, if he thinks of me at all. It seems cruel to disillusion him, don't you think?
Additionally, while I will need your assistance with the coming situation, I will first need a personal favor. Yet another reason for Ripper to remain blissfully unaware. I very seriously doubt that he, or anyone really, would condone your participation in alleviating my current situation. Yet with a glimmer of hope, I am asking for your help.
As for my current situation…regardless of what the postmark and return address on my letters may indicate, I am not in Illinois. I find myself forced to correspond in less than conventional ways, with the help of an acquaintance of mine who just happens to reside near Chicago. He has a questionable reputation, but amazing telepathic skills. Also, lovely penmanship, don't you think? You see, Ms. Rosenburg, I'm still being held in the Initiative's tender mercies. I find myself running out of more than just time.
I anxiously await your response.
There's something about a letter saying "there's something bad going on, but don't tell Giles," that makes me think I should probably tell Giles right away. Why should I believe you? I mean, even if there is something bad about to happen, which I can just about believe--something bad's always about to happen--why shouldn't Giles know? Or Buffy, for that matter. If there's something bad coming, I ought to tell at least one of them. Even if there's nothing Giles can do to help, he at least ought to know.
Besides, the "Something bad's coming, but I can't tell you what; just trust me," routine isn't really likely to make me want to believe you, even if I didn't remember who you are. And since I do, trusting you? Not really the most likely option. I'm pretty sure it isn't even an option at all.
So if you're serious about there being something out there we need to be worried about, I'm thinking it'd be a good idea to tone down the cryptic-ness a little, and start giving me something I could believe.
My dear girl - perhaps you remember me. I'd almost rather you didn't, as I feel I may not have made the most favourable impression. However, given the nature of said impression, I am probably not far off in assuming that you do, in fact, remember me. Be that as it may, I was rather hoping we could let bygones do what they do and work towards a mutually beneficial end.
I understand that hearing from me may come as a bit of a shock. I'm sure you've heard the heroic tales of how I was finally "brought to justice". Believe me, however, when I tell you that this letter is as difficult to write as it is surprising to read. But the fact remains that there is something coming that will require collaboration.
That said, Ripper (or Giles, if you prefer) mustn't know. I realize that I've just lost any shred of trust that I may have garnered by making that requirement, but it must be so. He will think he knows the solution, but, because he has turned his back on all that gave him power, he really has no way of dealing with this.
I hope to hear from you soon. Time, as always, is of the essence.