milliways_bar | (no subject)

The sky over Milliways outside has elected to break into one of those energetic downpours that the optimistic call a 'spring shower.' Sparring in adversity is one thing, but a sword fight becomes a tricky thing when you are rapidly beoming soaked to the skin.

Therefore Puck and Havelock have called a finish for today and open the door from the bar, each carrying a sword, and shaking off water.

Havelock peels off his coat, revealing a marginally drier shirt. "That went well, I thought," he says breezily, heading for the bar.

"Oh, I quite agree," Puck replies, who himself appears remarkably unconcerned by the fact that he is dripping all over the floor. "I am amazed, but it does seem your tutelage begins to stick."

(This might be putting it slightly optimistically, but at least Puck remembered to actually attempt to formulate his own sequence of attacks rather than just mimicking Havelock's.)

"It would seem so," the assassin agrees gravely, navigating around a table full of patrons. "Soon your technique will match your speed, and then I'm afraid I'll be no challenge at all."

Puck bats his eyelashes. "You flatter me," he says cheerfully. "Bar darling, could you see your way to a bit of cocoa?"

A few moments later sees the pair drying by the fire, Puck having been coaxed into a fresh shirt and breeches and Havelock with a towel, idly rubbing at his hair. The swords - both cleaned and dried before Havelock started on himself - are still in evidence.

[OOC: A combo post for all your threading needs! Merc and I are both here, taggable, and good for slowtimes!

EDIT: And now I am abed! Threads continue tomorrow? <3!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Puck snorts, stepping obligingly backwards to allow Havelock to move-- and, more to the point, allows himself to be moved by him, back and back and not even remotely attempting to get away.

That's a fun game too.

(It turns out that blank, cheerful inquiry is doubly blank when the inquirer cannot be seen. Though again, Havelock's aim is tremendous.)

Havelock stops once they are standing clear of walls, alone in the middle of the corridor.

Then he carefully and calmly lifts Puck's wrist to his mouth, tracing his lips gently along the soft skin on the inside before kissing just where his palm begins.

And then just as calmly, he releases him and busies himself sheathing the sword without hitting any invisible presences with it.

Puck gives an invisible shiver, though both it and the slightly tremulous laugh that accompanies are no doubt perfectly perceptible.

He flickers into view, shirt and breeches and all, his hair slightly and inexplicably more askew than it seemed to be downstairs.

"Oh, please," he says with a wry smile, tugging at Havelock's elbow once the immediate task of sheathing seems done with.

"Please. I pray you come quickly."

Havelock gives him a mildly incredulous look, but plays along, allowing himself to be tugged.

(It's hardly something he's against, generally speaking.)

"Patience," he says, very sage, "Is suppose to be a virtue, you know."

"And I have none I did not learn from you," Puck laughs, beginning to draw him down the hall step by step.

Whether he means virtue or patience is anyone's guess.

"I'm a poor teacher, then," Havelock sighs, raising his eyes mock-ruefully to the ceiling.

"I'll try harder."

Puck rolls his eyes.

"Well. It was docendo discere, was it not?"

Havelooooock.

The borderline-eyeroll transitions smoothly into what is almost a smirk.

"It was indeed."

There is probably an adage somewhere or other about never punching a man with a sword.

But Puck has not heard it.

Sorry Havelock. D:

Havelock winces, but shrugs it off and grins sharply sideways.

"Your form is off."

(The sword remains sheathed.)

Puck lets out an exasperated sound slightly too shrill for a growl, eyes narrowing.

"Slander!"

Then he leans in, scowl having turned in an instant to a smile ineffably sweet.

"I am more than content to prove to you, my dearest one, that I may boast this even of most excellent form." He rises up on his toes and gives Havelock's ear a bite that is slightly harder than it needs to be.

They're not thaaaat far from their room, after all.

Havelock sighs in what should have been an exasperated manner but is a little uneven in practise.

"Do feel free to prove me wrong," he says coolly.

"Mmm," Puck agrees, lips against his ear.

He has by this point insinuated himself against Havelock's side, and winds his arm carefully about his waist as if he thinks he may well be deterred at any time. With a last suckling nibble at Havelock's earlobe, he subsides and does his best to steer them a little more quickly in the direction of their destination.

"I intend to," he informs him contentedly.

"I am always willing to be informed," Havelock says thoughtfully, and catches hold of Puck by the arm to keep up with him.

Or because he wants the contact.

"I look forward to it."