oneman_onevote | (no subject)

The city looks different by daylight, though still dull from thick fog. But the town house they are approaching is very different from the dark, ramshackle area they had been in the night before.

Havelock looks oddly at home in this wealthy-looking area. Though he does tend to fit in most places.

Usually by being completely out of sight, but still.

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Puck finds it strange that he is unused to seeing him this way. Now that he's watched Havelock navigate this neighborhood, it seems that he could hardly be quite so suited to any other environment. Then again, he always looks perfectly unruffled no matter where he is.

"Did I mention how terribly excited I am?"

"Not for a while," Havelock says.

You know, a while being the last ten minutes.

Puck grins, taking Havelock by the arm and leaning his head against his shoulder.

"Well," he says, lashes fluttering, "I am."

Still.

"I am so glad," he says dryly.

He's not entirely sure a Puck who didn't want to be there would be quite safe.

And after all, he's rather fond of his aunt.

"What is she like?" he asks as they walk, though he has already formed his own impressions based on a few comments of Havelock's.

Havelock considers.

"She is a great deal more sensible than she first appears," he says finally.

"Oh, excellent," he replies with a grin. He hasn't yet released the assassin's arm. "So am I."

... Maybe.

It depends how observant you are in your first impression, perhaps.

"Then you are sure to get on."

It's not wishful thinking. Shh.

Puck darts forward suddenly, tugging Havelock towards the door. Of course, they're already going in that direction. He just wants to get there faster.

The footman already opening said door looks vaguely startled at the two young men bearing down on him, but the bulter who replaces him after a moment looks as if it happens to him all the time.

"Ah, Master Havelock. Madam Roberta is expecting you."

Havelock nods politely to him as if he does this all the time. He doesn't, as a matter of fact. Usually he comes in through the window in the dead of night, or more usually, comes nowhere near the house at all.

Puck waves cheerfully to both, still pulling Havelock along despite the fact that he has no idea where he is going.

Havelock allows himself to be dragged into hs Aunt's manor house as though it is the most natural thing in the world.

Fortunately, Puck can see the direction to go in by the startled young maid hastily pulling open the double-doors of a large room a little ahead of them.

And, because Puck is nothing if not quick on the uptake, he glides in through the opening doors. The maid gets a wink.

Puck gets a slight blush and a pert curtsey for his trouble from the little maid before she closes the door behind them.

Further into the room, a woman dressed in vivid purple silk sits with casual elegance on a couch, regarding Puck and Havelock with a vaguely interested smile.

"Good morning, Havelock," she says.

Puck looks her over with what may or may not be a certain level of appreciation. And, like a true gentleman, waits to be introduced.

"Good morning, Aunt," says Havelock, walking over and taking her proffered hand. He kisses her briefly on the cheek as if that is something he always does. She smiles at him.

"I haven't seen you in some time. Come sit by your Aunt and introduce your young man."

Though he does not sit, Havelock turns immediately to Puck. "Puck, this is my maternal Aunt, Madam Roberta Meserole."

The woman in purple extends a hand, charming smile never wavering. Her gaze, however, is remarkably steady and strangely assessing.

Curious, that.

Puck smiles back guilelessly and takes her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips for a genteel and wholly appropriate kiss.

No, really.

"Madam, I am simply enchanted," he says. "Havelock's told me so much about you."

If by so much, it is understood that he means "marginally more than he's told me about anyone else."

"Indeed?"

Madam raises her eyebrow at Havelock. "Nothing indiscreet, I hope."

Her nephew glances at her.

The completely and totally innocent smile remains.

"Oh, now, would he really have told me anything that was less than complimentary?"

Havelock looks blandly back at his Aunt. "I highly doubt it."

Madam waves a hand as though Havelock's opinion on what he might have said is now unimportant.

"No matter, I suppose. Champagne, either of you?"

Havelock, still standing, shakes his head. Madam appears less than surprised, but gestures for Puck to take a seat, if he would like.

Puck does indeed sit, with an elegant sprawl that is part stolen from Havelock, part all his own.

"Champagne's lovely, I think," he says. "Terribly kind of you."

He does, however, have the faint suspicion that were he anyone else, he would be needing to keep his wits about him.

Indeed, most would find themselves disarmed by the smile Roberta Meserole turns on him. As it is, Puck might even recognise the way no trace of what she is thinking is visible behind sparkling brown eyes.

She pours two glasses with an impressive degree of professionalism.

"Not at all. I get to meet so few of Havelock's friends."

The assassin in question is apparently examining the lock on the window.

Puck finds it distressingly familiar.

He rallies quickly as he accepts his drink, laughing and saying, "What a shame! Well, I hope I shall suffice."

Her smile is teasing now, but instead of answering immediately, she shoots a look at her nephew.

"Havelock? Are you determined to be antisocial?"

He doesn't even look around, but his voice is the epitome of politeness. "That might be a matter of opinion, Aunt."

Madam shakes her head and takes a sip of champagne. "Is he like this with you too?" she asks the fae.