That should not frighten him. Off-putting and odd he may be, but this man is only a mortal. Puck resents bitterly that his expression should betray anything at all, and resents it more that he does not know what that is, or what power this mortal may glean from it.

Well. There is more left to him than shifting shape, or at least there ought to be.

Voice pitched low, and eyes locked on Havelock's face, he murmurs, "Have I distracted you from your scholarship?"

It's intended to compel, and Puck notes with sharp relief that it's working the way it always has: with a sweetening of the air, a lilting quality to light and sound. "You ought to see to it. You seem a great one for taking no notice."