(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck has been in an unaccountable amount of pain all day.

Unaccountable, that is, even in the context of extreme fae pregnancy, a condition which has been putting greater strain on his back, joints, mental and magical faculties, not to mention social and sex life with each passing day

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[river_meimei]

Either River's upstairs to explore, rather than for any particular destination, or she's just especially distractable today. At any rate, she's drifting down the hallway, one hand trailing lightly over doorframes and wallpaper.

She doesn't seem to have noticed Puck yet. (This may or may not be misleading.)

[puckishly]

Puck, however, has most certainly noticed her. There can be little doubt about it, as shortly thereafter he drawls, "River, darling," in the sort of voice that quite disguises how much he wants to take a horseshoe to his temple.

It is a little trickier to keep the pain out of his movements, however.

[river_meimei]

"You're a liar," River informs the wall, reasonably amicably.

Beat.

She glances over.

[puckishly]

Puck makes a rather sour face, which has absolutely nothing to do with the latest twinge in his stomach.

"And you, mistress, are approximately as charming as ever."