oneman_onevote | Extremely melodramatic AU: The revenge!

The castle is chill, in the hallways, and dark apart from pools of light created by torches placed at wide intervals on the walls.

Havelock is moving, if possible, even more silently than usual. He'd be twitchy if that wasn't a surefire way to mess up your stealth. The shadows are blending obligingly around him, more strongly here than they had in the bar.

Puck can take care of himself, he knows that, but also holds out no hope that any of this is going to be particularly pleasant.

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"Vell, you must practise, then, must you not?" Margolotta tells him.

She is apparently ignoring any realisations of epic love in the room in favour of giving Havelock a look of assessment.

"No vun may say I do not train those of mine properly."

That sound you hear?

Is a choked back, swallowed down snarl.

Havelock Vetinari is the only reason he's not staking this woman. (The stakes are in his pocket, currently in the form of brightly colored buttons. Always come prepared!)

"I learn nothing poorly," Havelock says, and there is, finally, a faint edge under his voice.

He hates this too.

The fact that displaying rebellion may distract Margolotta from Puck for a moment is quite besides the point.

"Do you not? How nice to know," she says, with a slow smile for his reaction. Or perhaps for both of them.

"Igor?"

Igor is, of course, right behind her.

"Yeth, madam?"

Puck ... blinks.

His glance to Havelock seems to say DO YOU KNOW THIS GUY.

Havelock's answering glance may have been meant to carry confirmation.

He's extra blank at the moment, as if to make up for his momentary slip before.

Margolotta turns, resigned to the vagarities of the Igors. Despite their little oddities, no Uberwaldian worth mentioning would dream of being without one.

"Ah, Igor," she says briskly. "Ve have an extra guest. Tell me, do you drink... vine, my unnamed visitor?"

Puck bites back an urge to say none of yours, dear lady and takes his blandness from Havelock.

"As it happens, my unnamed hostess, I do."

"Very good," she says. "Igor, vould you be so kind?"

Igor is fixing Puck with the kind of look that communicates, quite effectively, jutht what are YOU looking at.

"Thertainly, madam," he says with dignity and an impeccable lisp. "I'll jutht nip down to the thellar, shall I?"

And, scraping a bow, he turns and leaves the room.

Havelock is mildly disturbed by this development.

He covers it by walking to the sword rack to put his rapier away.

(If he has to walk close by Puck in order to do this... well. Sacrifices have to be made.)

Havelock is exceedingly noble.

Puck is sure Margolotta won't miss it, but as Havelock passes he reaches out to brush the back of his hand with his fingertips.

They're warm.

Havelock is too, but it's the warmth you get from standing in a warm room, no more.

His eyes flicker sideways just once, to catch the brightness of his eyes, before he turns around, back to the fire, cautiously watching the other vampire.

(Because - he opens up and relaxes with Puck; but he closes off when there is danger, it's safer and easier to think. Having him here is a comfort-- he can't be so cold as he might be alone.)

Margolotta wonders to herself if either of them really think they're fooling anyone, or just don't care.

Probably the latter. Boys will be boys.

"Vell, gentlemen," she says pleasantly. "I hope you vill not be too offended if I leave you vhile Igor prepares refreshments. Havelock, be a good host."

It stops just short of command.

Puck saves his glower for once she has melted into the shadows.

Then he turns, somewhat sheepishly, to Havelock, looking like someone who has just released a long-held breath.

"... I couldn't help it, darling."

Havelock's muscles loosen just a hair as she vanishes, and he reaches up to unconsciously rub his forehead.

"It's all right," he says quietly.

Beat.

"You were initially very restrained, I thought."

You know. He didn't storm through the castle shrieking there can only be one, after all.

Edited Date: 2010-02-16 12:11 am (UTC)

"You are too kind," Puck murmurs.

He glances to him, expression sharpening-- strategic rather than wary or frightened.

"What ought I to do?"

"Don't drink anything she gives you."

That answer is immediate. Havelock bites his lip (catching himself just before he inadvertently draws blood) before continuing.

"I'm not sure," he says, voice low. He hates not being sure.

"Well that I knew already," Puck says, with a fond roll of his eyes.

He frowns.

"What would you have me do, I mean. Reveal what I am? Conceal that knowledge at all costs? Speak to her only in rhyming couplets?"

"I thought it bore stating," Havelock shrugs.

Then he looks over, mirroring Puck's frown for a moment.

"I don't like the idea of handing her your weaknesses. Keep it to yourself, perhaps."

You know, Puck could be an unorthodox wizard. Perhaps from Llamedos.

(He does look a bit elvish around the ears. For... good reason.)

He laughs.

It's the kind of laugh that says this whole thing's an adventure.

"Very well," he agrees. "If she asks, as I've no doubt she will, I shall make a series of cryptic remarks and then insult her hair."

Puck is, of course, a highly accomplished liar.

Havelock manages to quirk a smile.

"Excellent," he says. "I have no doubt she shall be stricken."

Puck beams.

And takes his hand, gently and without sudden movement, to bend and press a kiss to the back.

(He releases him quickly, lest Margolotta or that stumping Igor character should return at precisely the wrong moment.)

Havelock lets him take it without resistance, still smiling a little.

It slips a little at the reminder of where they are, but he shrugs reasuringly.

"She's not close by," he says. "I can tell that much."

If little else. These supposed vampire senses are not all they were advertised to be.