milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Morgan is curled up by the fire, looking pale and listless. She absently stroking Arianrhod, but doesn't really seem to be paying much attention to anything around her.

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Puck knows that story. He smiles.

"Small wonder, then."

The white dragon has her eyes, and the dragons are trying their best to kill each other.

The red has bright, bright blue.

"I like him. His mind is on fire, but his voice is nice."

Puck tilts his head, eyes flashing blue for a moment. They settle on green, as brilliant a green as his snake-scales.

"I think that I like him as well." He flutters his wings briefly, more for show than out of any need. "Strangely, I may like him most for thinking me of little consequence."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"I've had some ill luck with dark powers, sweet."

"Little consequence, little worth, little risk thus little danger. I see."

A smile.

"Clever, clever."

She smiles back.

"Anything interesting happen to you?"

"When?"

He's gone a little stiller than normal.

The smile fades.

"Since last I saw you. I was just trying to be polite."

He chuckles, relaxing.

"No fear, 'twas my own error." He thinks a moment. "I've been hanging about with gods-- the Grecian lot. Simply bewitching."

The sex wasn't bad, either.

She makes a face at him.

"The Greek gods? Good in bed?"

He smiles.

"I highly recommend it."

"I think my boyfriend might protest."

"Oh?"

He tilts his head, flicking one wing demurely. "And which one is this?"

"My current one. Barty."

He grins.

"I approve."

"Oh, you know him?"

And aren't going to worry about me? Her mental voice sounds...surprised. Pleased.

"We've met," Puck replies with a grin. "And, if I recall, got along well."

Should I worry? Do tell me if I am remiss.

She beams at him.

"Good."

I don't think so - everyone else seems to think otherwise. Don't understand why.

"Mortals worry by nature, Morgan dear," he says, making a bit of a face. "Dreadfully tiresome."

Morgan rolls her eyes.

"Very." She leans forward, and kisses his cheek. "Glad you aren't mortal."

He slips a slim finger under her chin and kisses back.

Well, yes, on the cheek. Can't have Barty getting huffy.

"So, I think, am I."

There is one last impish grin; then there's only a green snake, wending its way between table legs and the feet of passing patrons.

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