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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"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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