milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Puck does not stagger downstairs. He ambles. There is a difference.

He also is not wearing a shirt.

He also has a bottle of absinthe drawn on his back.

The fae ambles over to the bar and drops his head onto the countertop.

Oddly enough, he may have had a few absinthe hallucinations last night.

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"Nmph," is Puck's eloquent reply from his facedown position.

After a moment, however, he raises his head gratefully and says, "Yes. And pray be very quiet."

Havelock nods once and a large mug of very strong coffee appears before the fae.

The assassin says nothing further.

Quiet, he can do.

The fairy seizes it and sips as quickly as he can-- which isn't very.

He is not, for the record, slumped against Havelock at this juncture. It's called leaning.

The arm around Puck is not for support, it's... affectionate.

Yes.

About halfway through the mug, Puck is better able to form multiple coherent thoughts in a row.

"Good morrow," he murmurs, looking up at Havelock through his lashes.

"Morning," he says.

Quietly. If he has thoughts about how very long Puck's lashes are, they are not apprarent. The assassin is made of ice.

He smiles lazily. No, not in pain.

Lazy.

"Do you fare any better than I feel?"

"A little, I imagine," he says dryly.

He runs light fingertips through Puck's hair again. "Have you eaten anything?"

"... Yes?"

There were, if he recalls, cupcakes.

"This morning?"

Blood sugar doesn't have to be literal sugar, Puck.

Oh, shut up, you ... person. Thing.

"I fear not."

"Perhaps it would help?"

It's a suggestion, not an order. Havelock doesn't do that. ~~To Puck.~~

Puck shrugs, head on Havelock's shoulder.

"I do feel I could have a bit of snake ..."

It appears on the bar.

~~For Puck is clearly a Kept Fae.~~

"It should help."

~~Hey, hey, we all know who wears the lea-- okay, never mind.~~

Puck snatches it up-- and his speed isn't bad, really-- and slurps it down.

Yum. Snake.

Havelock says nothing, only quietly orders another cup of coffee for himself and a refill for Puck's.

Approximately fifteen liquid ounces of caffeine later, Puck says, "I do feel a little better ..."

"I am glad," Havelock says, possibly stating the obvious a little.

"Do you remember how much you drank? Your tolerance is... impressive, as I recall."

Puck smiles ruefully.

"It is. However, it was quite a night."

Havelock smiles wryly, what of it can be seen.

"It looked interesting, what little I saw. Some kind of game?"

He grins a little.

"Some kind indeed. I would have invited you in, but it seemed a little less after your tastes."

"You interpreted the situation correctly."

He tilts his head slightly before sipping his coffee again.

"Interesting, however."

He tilts his head to the side, which is a bit of a mistake, as it leads to tiny stabs of pain in the temple region.

"... Out of curiosity, what little bit did you see?"

Havlock considers.

"There was some kind of... pink entity."

Puck frowns.

"Yes ..." he says slowly. "There was ... wasn't there?"

One slim hand slides down his back, down to the approximate location of the doodled absinthe bottle.