milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

In the last few weeks, he's been keeping hours that start before dawn and end deep into the darkest hours of the night. He looks it, too, enough so that a few media reporters have inquired.

When they do, Gabriel just smiles and tells them that some things are worth giving up a little sleep for.

Still, he knows he can't keep this pace up forever. He doesn't care-- it doesn't matter, as long as he can keep going long enough. Which means, of course, that he's got to find at least a little more time to rest, and soon.

With that in mind, Gabriel brings a sheaf of documents with him to Milliways, and settles at a side booth to review them. If he can get a few hours' work done here instead, then he can spend those extra hours sleeping back in New Mayfair.

Or so he hopes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In a few short minutes, Puck has every intention of stopping by the Delicate Flowers party. He's even dressed up! (By which we mean he borrowed one of Havelock's shirts without asking.)

The sight of the fellow with paperwork provokes a look of pitying amusement. Why do so many people feel this is a place to get work done?

Or perhaps the question is: Why do so many people feel the need to get work done?

He appears rather conspicuously out of the air by Gabriel's booth, eyeing him curiously.

He startles, visibly-- and recovers just as quickly.

"Nĭ hăo, sir."

It's a little crisp, but still cordial.

Puck tilts his head, birdlike-- it's probably at the language.

"Hardly a sir," he says cheerfully, leaning against the side of the booth. "But good even all the same. Are you quite well?"

Both eyebrows rise slightly.

"Is there another title, or perhaps a name, that you would prefer as a form of address?"

A beat, and Gabriel adds,

"And I'm quite well,

xièxie nĭ

"That is a question," Puck says musingly, tapping his chin with a slim finger.

"Well, I do suppose it depends. Tonight 'Foxglove' shall likely be in vogue, though if it were left to me, I should quite prefer 'Puck.'" He smiles pleasantly. "And you, sir?"

Gabriel's answering smile is perfectly pleasant, but there's a quick flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"Puck. Gāoxìng jìandào nĭ. I'm Gabriel Tam."

A pause.

"Perhaps you'd care to join me?"

Puck may or may not catch the flicker. However, at the name Tam, the corner of his mouth quirks up.

Amiably, "Perhaps I would, at that."

And he slides onto the bench opposite, planting his elbows on the table.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel Tam," he addds cheerfully. A tilt of his head.

"Should it be altogether too presumptuous of me to assume you are of some relation to the other Tams who frequent this place?"

"It's not as though you're back in the Core," Gabriel informs him. "It's a much more common name there, I'm afraid."

A beat.

"I'm Simon and River's father, yes."

Puck beams.

"How perfectly delightful," he says.

A wistful sigh. "I'm quite fond of River, you know."

Gabriel's eyebrows rise again, higher this time.

"I'm afraid I was unaware."

"Really?"

Puck looks wounded.

"I had hoped I should merit at least a passing mention."

"Really?"

A pause.

"And why is that?"

Puck glances up with a sheepish smile.

"Oh ... you know," he says, waving vaguely. "We've rather a history, we two."

This is the truth!

It all began when Puck turned Simon into a penguin ...

He sets aside his papers and focuses on Puck with every evidence of giving the fae his full, polite attention.

"I'd be interested in hearing it."

Puck coughs delicately.

"Are you quite sure you could not stand to hear it from the lady herself? Some of our dealings may be considered sensitive territory."

... Well. Not really, aside from the penguin. Not like Puck's planning to offer verbatim dialogues, anyway.

"She's not here right now, is she?"

It's quite cordial, really.

"And you are." A pause. "Unless there's something you're ashamed of, that involves my daughter... "

Something in the level politeness of Gabriel Tam's voice suggests that this would be a very, very bad thing.

"There is little danger of that," Puck says cheerfully. "I haven't much of a sense of shame to begin with."

He tilts his head, thoughtful.

"Now now, where to begin ... you are aware, perhaps, that your Simon has, in his past, spent some hours as a penguin?"

"As a penguin," Gabriel repeats.

Carefully.

A pause.

"I may presume this was one of your, er, transformations?"

"Have you heard of me, then?"

All flickers aside, it is so nice to be recognized.

"I have, actually."

A beat.

"You have quite the reputation."

"So they tell me," Puck says amiably.

"And in this case, I take it this particular version of my reputation is concerned mainly with this end of things."

At 'this end of things,' he points lazily at one of Gabriel's papers, which turns abruptly into a white mouse before giving a squeak and fluttering back onto the table in its original state.

Gabriel jerks a little bit-- he can't help it. He's too exhausted to be able to hide his reactions as well as he'd like.

Besides, a paper turning into a squeaking mouse and back again is not at all part of normal experience.

"... I see it's not unjustified. Evidently."

He laughs.

"Evidently."

There's a pause, and then,

"I take it River didn't approve?"

He may be tired, he may not be the sort of genius that his children are -- but Gabriel Tam's anything but stupid.

Puck grins.

He can see where River gets her perceptive nature!

"Not a grize, I'm afraid-- which was rather a shame. 'Twas all in good fun."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only