milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is one more empty bed in the infirmary.

The reason for that is sitting on the piano, glancing around the bar with sharp green eyes.

He's a little slow still, but really feeling much better.

Really.

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"You're in my spot," Charlie says easily, sitting in a chair close enough to prop up his feet on the bench. "How're you?"

Puck blinks owlishly.

"I wasn't aware that a musician tended to sit on his instrument rather than at it."

"If the musician is singing and vamping, maybe. Intent on becoming a lounge singer?"

Puck considers this.

He's good at singing, even if he usually cheats.

He's EXTRA good at lounging.

... :D

"Do tell me more."

"Well," Charlie swings onto the bench and plays a scale, "I play, you sing and--well--flirt--and you're in-bar entertainment."

Puck beams!

"I think I should be most amenable to something of that sort."

"But do you know any appropriate songs, that's the question."

"I can easily make one up, if you've a tune," Puck says breezily, waving a hand.

Charlie starts playing--it's blusey, jazzy.

His grin is like a challenge.

Puck tilts his head to the side, listening carefully to the music.

And, after a moment, begins to belt.

"Well I know me a woman,
Blodwen Rowlands by name
And you know the Dark forces
They're exactly her game.

"Calls herself the White Rider
Dresses all up in white
And she's making some trouble
for the cause of the Light."

Puck grins at Charlie, winking to a patron across the room.

Sweet has apparently taught him well in matters of genre singing.

"You may say that I'm crazy,
But I'm gonna call foul:
Don't you trust that Miz Rowlands
Don't you trust any owls.

"Don't you dare make her angry
'Cause just watch what she'll do
You may find it ironic--
She'll make ribbons of you."

Never let it be said that the Fair Folk are not great improv artists.

Charlie applauds. "Very nice. Very nice indeed.

"I'm glad to see your recent trouble has left few ill effects."

Puck glances at hm curiously for a moment, almost sharply.

"Recent trouble?"

"Jack mentioned you had a run-in with a witch?"

He's fuzzy on the details.

Puck blinks innocently.

"I certainly didn't have one of those."

Technically, it wasn't a run-in.

Also Blodwen's not a witch.

Mmmhmmmmmm.

Charlie shrugs, starting to play again like a nervous tic. "He was worried. He's worried a lot. Hell, I'm worried a lot and I'm not even sure what's going on.

"Ingress mentioned that Rowlands person to me too. Said she wasn't invited to her birthday party because she was too mean.

"All this about dark and light. It's real stuff, yeah?"

He laughs lightly, sliding down off the piano to lean against it.

"As real as you or I."

Charlie smiles dryly. "I think sometimes that's a bit relative, yeah?

"So you're all right?"

Puck pats himself down, looking affronted.

"I, sirrah, am quite real enough."

And he smiles, and he shrugs.

"Were I not, I expect you would hear of it."

"You'd be surprised how fragile these immortal types seem to think I am."

All those scars he's collected mean nothing, of course.

"I do wish I'd known earlier--could've visited you or summat."

Puck rolls his eyes.

"Did he tell you where I've been, then?"

"Yeah . . . did you not want people to know?

"The infirmary doesn't scare me--I've been in there before, when Darien's got treated."

Oh, Darien.

Whatever.

Puck waves Darien and an unspecified number of other concerns aside.

"He's absolutely insufferable, you know."

"Who, Jack? He was ranting about quite a few things earlier. Been a bad couple of weeks for everybody, it would seem."

Puck smiles wrly.

"Quite."

[ooc: np, let's fade. good night.]

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