Well, Ethan did have a point. He didn't tend to repeat himself. "You're right, I'm sorry. Let me have a look at this thing." Giles pulled himself out of bed entirely, peering down at the hamper with the sweatshirt in it. He held up one hand to shield his eyes from the light, and he dug in his bedside table until he found a pair of scissors. Using the blade end, he poked at the sweatshirt, then lifted it a little by the hood. "Hm. This is new, looks like. Where did this come from, I wonder?"
He prodded at it a little more. "Seems to be just normal fabric, nothing strange th--hello." Giles twisted the clothing around until the manufacturer's label was visible. "Hello, what's this?" He tilted his head to read the flourished script. "... by Edna." He paused. "I know that name... Ethan, do make yourself useful and pass me the newspaper." He went back to staring at the tag, and then suddenly got up from the bed with a start. He yanked the closet door open, and pulled the comfortable brown sweater off the rack. "Bugger me, I knew I recognized that." He threw the sweater down on the bed, then dug the label out. "By Edna."