Havelock-Lyrandom drabble

"...And so you assassinated the piano?"

Havelock tilts his head sternly. "I do not undertake business in the Bar," he reminds him.

Act of mercy, adds Random-Lyrae's quiet mindvoice from where she kicks her heels idly, sitting on the tabletop between the assassin and the General of Antar. My way is messy. He's neat about all he does, y'see?

Havelock blinks in mild agreement. Michael frowns, more than a little lost.

"Y-you asked him to? Why- I mean, you love playing it, Lyrae..."

Not the way it was, she says darkly. It was all wrong, tuneless. And irreparable.

Havelock glances over and nods distantly.

"Besides, a replacement is already on its way."

A better one.

"Indeed."

Michael sighs, and gives up.