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[OOC: Directly after Puck and Madam's conversation.]
"An interesting young man," says Madam conversationally as Havelock sits opposite her. He regards her quietly. "Not without charm, either," she continues, with an almost coquettish smile. It's very nearly convincing.
"And here I thought you were immune to such things," the young assassin says dryly.
Madam Roberta Meserole laughs and takes a sip of her champagne. "Really, Havelock. That is your reputation."
"Perhaps."
She shrugs. "As you say, perhaps. But then I'm not entirely sure you are taken enough notice of to have one."
"Possibly, Madam."
His aunt eyes him a moment. "At times, Havelock, I really do fear for your vocabulary. Do you really never talk to him?"
Havelock shrugs. "When there is reason to speak, I do so. Even to Puck," he adds with a dry smile.
"Interesting name. I suppose a surname is too much to hope for?"
The slight smile on Havelock's face is her only answer.
"And do you love him?"
One eyebrow raises politely.
"Oh yes. I forgot you never apply that word. Well then. I fear I did not tell him I would hunt him down if he hurt my dear young nephew. That might have been remiss of me. You aren't upset, are you?"
Havelock doesn't quite roll his eyes. "I am more than capable of defending my own honour, Madam. Should I feel the need."
"Good boy." Madam thoughtfully refills her glass. "I hope, on the whole, that it will not be necessary. You certainly seem most unconcerned that he's fluttering those most impressive eyelashes of his at Millicent out there."
A glance at her nephew turns up no evidence of a problem with this. Madam sighs resignedly into the quiet.
"I should catch up with him, perhaps," Havelock says after a polite pause.
"Go on," says Madam Roberta Meserole.
"He's dangerous, you know," she adds, as he walks to the door. Her eyes rest thoughtfully on the floor though the pale yellow bubbles of her champagne.
Havelock pauses, hand resting on the door handle.
"Yes. I know."
"An interesting young man," says Madam conversationally as Havelock sits opposite her. He regards her quietly. "Not without charm, either," she continues, with an almost coquettish smile. It's very nearly convincing.
"And here I thought you were immune to such things," the young assassin says dryly.
Madam Roberta Meserole laughs and takes a sip of her champagne. "Really, Havelock. That is your reputation."
"Perhaps."
She shrugs. "As you say, perhaps. But then I'm not entirely sure you are taken enough notice of to have one."
"Possibly, Madam."
His aunt eyes him a moment. "At times, Havelock, I really do fear for your vocabulary. Do you really never talk to him?"
Havelock shrugs. "When there is reason to speak, I do so. Even to Puck," he adds with a dry smile.
"Interesting name. I suppose a surname is too much to hope for?"
The slight smile on Havelock's face is her only answer.
"And do you love him?"
One eyebrow raises politely.
"Oh yes. I forgot you never apply that word. Well then. I fear I did not tell him I would hunt him down if he hurt my dear young nephew. That might have been remiss of me. You aren't upset, are you?"
Havelock doesn't quite roll his eyes. "I am more than capable of defending my own honour, Madam. Should I feel the need."
"Good boy." Madam thoughtfully refills her glass. "I hope, on the whole, that it will not be necessary. You certainly seem most unconcerned that he's fluttering those most impressive eyelashes of his at Millicent out there."
A glance at her nephew turns up no evidence of a problem with this. Madam sighs resignedly into the quiet.
"I should catch up with him, perhaps," Havelock says after a polite pause.
"Go on," says Madam Roberta Meserole.
"He's dangerous, you know," she adds, as he walks to the door. Her eyes rest thoughtfully on the floor though the pale yellow bubbles of her champagne.
Havelock pauses, hand resting on the door handle.
"Yes. I know."
