(Untitled)
The thing about juggling multiple shades of doom is that, upon occasion, one of them becomes more absorbing than the others and you're forced to shuffle about.
The latest reshuffling had irked Puck to no end, as one might imagine; but now amends have been restored (he really must thank Tutu), and he finds himself curled against Havelock in the ( Read more... )
The latest reshuffling had irked Puck to no end, as one might imagine; but now amends have been restored (he really must thank Tutu), and he finds himself curled against Havelock in the ( Read more... )
Comments 65
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"Hm-"
Look, not even highly-trained assassins go from deep sleep to fully functional in a split second.
"Yes?"
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Maybe they should have this conversation later. Like when Havelock's drunk.
Puck sighs, dropping a kiss absently to his shoulder.
"I think we ought to talk, is all."
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Havelock rolls over to blink upwards at him.
"That's usually true," he observes. "About what in particular?"
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"Well, there is that which we ought to speak of, yet I cannot, and that which we might speak of, yet has already-- so far as I can tell-- been most satisfactorily resolved." He raises himself up on one elbow and strokes down the line of Havelock's neck with his fingertips.
"Which leaves, I think, that which we must speak of, lest we find ourselves both taken quite unpleasantly unawares."
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