(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck does not, as a general rule, dream. Upon occasion, he has even put forth the opinion that he is nearer to being a dream than to having them. Nevertheless, when he manages to flicker upstairs and past the defenses to Havelock's room (shapeshifting helps, a rapidly advancing state of intoxication does not) and more or less tumble into bed with

Comments

[oneman_onevote]

It's a few moments before Havelock appears, having been across the room in an armchair while Puck slept. That he could get out of bed and dressed without the faerie waking is a testament to the powerful effects of whatever he had drunk the night before.

Given his lengthy experience of Puck's tolerance of various poisons - the recreational kind and otherwise - he had been rather impressed.

He sits lightly on the edge of the mattress, reaches over to tug the curtains more fully closed against the unforgiving light, and waits kindly for Puck to regain his coherence.

[puckishly]

First, it seems, Puck would like to shove his head under the pillow and clamp it down about his ears. What this is in response to is unclear, unless perhaps it's simply his increasing cognizance of being awake and possessing a number of needling aches.

He fully expects-- insofar as he has reached the stage of consciousness where one forms expectations-- that Havelock is awake by now and has gone off to ... do something assassiny. Throw knives, run about the lake, hide his books where he thinks Puck shan't find them.

This could explain why his thrashing and muffled groans lack a certain theatricality.

[oneman_onevote]

Well, he's moving, which rules out anything else particularly serious.

(Not that Havelock was worried.

He checked for symptoms as soon as Puck fell asleep the night before and again in the morning.)

Havelock sits back where he is, partially to avoid being hit by a flailing limb, and takes the time to calmly pour a glass of water out.

[puckishly]

--Wait a minute.

Is there somebody here?

Puck goes still. (The ache in his head has resolved to a dull and constant throb, concentrated chiefly betwixt the eyes.)

Slowly, he loosens his hold on the pillow and peers out from beneath it.

And blinks.

"'Gmorrow," he murmurs, in somewhat hoarse surprise.