milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Foaly's in the bar. He's looking for Puck, but anyone can feel free to bug him. He's sitting at a booth doing something technical and complex with something that looks like maybe it used to be a toaster but is slowly evolving into a space station.

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Random drapes himself into the seat across from him.

"The President of Nigeria, I assume?"

He looks up and smirks. "Speaking. The Doily Llama, I presume?"

He grins, and tosses his hair out of his face.

"You'd be correct. Random. Pleased to meet you, face to face, that is."

Foaly takes off his tinfoil hat in a sweeping bow. "Foaly. A pleasure to meet you." He gets back to tinkering with his toaster/rocket. "You're a lot more human than I expected. Not a lot of them have a sense of humor, I find."

He grins.

"Appearances can be decieving, ducky. You work with computers, I think. Certainly you know your way around them."

He nods at the not'toaster.

"Work with them?" He tosses his tail. "I INVENT them. The People have more advanced computer technology than you could ever imagine. This thing here is just something to pass the time until I can find Puck."

He blinks.

"Puck? You're looking for him? Most people tend to duck for cover when he approaches, especially since he turned someone into a dog."

"You mean the pirate with the purple fan?" He snickers. "Yes. Clever little trick, that. Puck wouldn't dare with me. I've coated him in nasty chemicals, dyed him blue, and stolen his pants. All without a spark of magic. He wouldn't DARE."

What, him, humble?

He arches an eyebrow.

"Somehow, I feel that will not be taken into consideration with him. Though the concept of a blue Puck is an amusing one. Why are you looking for him?"

"Because rumor has it there's a crazy King around and we need to toast him. Also, Puck is damn sexy."

Shock value. Gotta love it.

"What did I do, I wonder, to get so popular around here?" Puck muses from his perch on the Bar.

Random looks up and grins.

"Just be your charming, loveable self Puck. Andres says 'Hi!' by the way."

"I have a feeling Andres says more than 'hi,' and probably says it in illustrative Castillan, but that is besides the point." He grins at Puck. "Hello, sweetheart. Where've you been all my life?" And shoots a rubber band at him.

Puck catches it idly and stretches it between his fingertips.

"Hello, duck," he says to Random, grinning. "I'm certain that he does."

He shoots the rubber band back at Foaly. "Why, I've been right here. You simply don't know how to look." He pauses, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being discussed?"

"To the Doily Llama and a knocked up piece of lace, I think it was."

He smiles evilly at Foaly.

"I don't remember the specifics. Do you?"

Foaly pulls out a miniature palm-pilot device and pushes a few things. "I believe we established that Puck turned into a Doily and one or the other of us had gotten him knocked up."

Puck glances between them again.

"I become saner and saner with each passing day ..."

Random shakes his head.

"There's no such thing as a grade curve when it comes to sanity. And it was all his fault. He started emailing me, without rhyme of reason."

"I admit there was no rhyme, but there was plenty of REASON. The REASON was because I COULD." He crosses his front hooves smartly and taps a screwdriver against the table. "Anyway, I can rhyme anytime I like."

Puck raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't think our Random quite your type, my dear."

Well, if someone had just EXPLAINED the definition of "email" ...

"~~And don't talk to ME about speaking in rhyme, pal.~~"

Random winces.

"Oh please, don't give me nightmares. And Puck, an email is like an instant letter that you can send through computers. Except it's generally considered polite to know who you're writing to before randomly sending one off."

"I knew very well who I was writing to. You." He paws the chair defensively.

Oh. Letters. Well, that's not nearly as fun.

"I would imagine one would have to know the intended recipient of a letter," Puck says. After a beat, he adds, "And it's all very fascinating, but I fail to see what I have to do with it.

"Aside from my role as cheap impregnated lace."

He arches an eyebrow.

"Because 'Unexpected_danO @ amber.com' is so clearly Random."

He turns to Puck.

"The travel at the speed of speech, and every recipient as a surname. He pulled me off a list of those in the bar."

"Well. It IS pretty random, Random."

Puck is unimpressed. Adopting other names to hide your real one is something that the fae do all the time.

They just don't have to worry about spam.

"Piss off. It's a perfectly logical id."

He pushes his hair out of his face.

"Even if Amber is a terrible network. Better than the President of Nigeria, at least."

"I know, I know, I should have picked a better name." He clicks his tongue and eyes Puck. "We should get you an E-Mail, sweetheart."

Puck looks at Foaly dubiously.

"To what point and purpose, precisely?" he asks. "I'm not overfond of doilies."

Random snickers.

"That's fine. Foaly here has them all under his evil charismatic spell. You don't need to worry about them. But I do think you would enjoy an email account. Just for the novelty."

He twirls a strand of hair around his finger thoughtfully. "What do you think of 'pregnantdoily@gaymail.com'?"

Puck smiles sweetly.

"I think you wouldn't enjoy spending any great span of time as a toadstool."

Random throws back his head in laughter.

"Hah! I told you so, Foaly."

He leans back in his seat, shaking his head and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Idle threats!" Foaly waves his hand. "Puck knows what happens when he messes with me."

"You brush my hair and we violate bar rules in a booth?" Puck suggests innocently.

An arched eyebrow.

"Which rules, darling?"

Foaly leers at Random. "Oh, all the best ones, darling."

Puck simply shrugs, grinning.

"Best not to ask," he tells Random.

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