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And eventually, Havelock heads upstairs, with the intention of getting to sleep.

...At some point. Half an hour later sees him showered and in clean clothes, sitting cross-legged on his bed and writing up certain impressions that he doesn't wish to forget. Among them ideas for a new trap to install in his aunt's chimney.

Idly, he wonders if razor blades would be too unsporting.

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"I believe she has gone through her time in Ankh-Morpork in the company of many society young men."

Blank, blank expression.

"... Aha."

Puck's tone is exceedingly delicate.

"Your aunt is rather an exceptional sort of person, Havelock," he says after a moment. "I expect you are aware."

"I have occasionally thought so," says Havelock, equally delicately.

Reflect for a moment on the fact that Havelock was actually raised by this woman.

Puck is marveling at that fact at this very moment, as it happens.

Where did Havelock come from?

"I suppose I shan't cause much stir, at least," he mutters. "I believe the term for it is 'mancandy.'"

So Lilly would say, at any rate.

The ether, one suspects. Although... strip away the flirtation and contrived flamboyance, and Madam does have quite a lot in common with her nephew. Mostly a lack of morals and a talent for shameless manipulation.

Havelock, for his part, pauses briefly to process the term, 'mancandy,' shrugs, and says, "Oh, please, cause as much stir as you wish."

He'll watch, and enjoy it.

Puck laughs, a laugh edging on a snicker.

"As much as I wish? Really?"

Havelock shrugs.

"If it gives the impression that Madam is simply a frivolous society lady, and no threat, then I am all in favour."

Wait till Puck sees the clothing she's likely to insist upon.

Ah, well, he figured there'd be a caveat of some kind. Booooring!

However.

Puck does note that Havelock hasn't said that he's not in favor of anything not encouraging a frivolous view of his aunt ... just that he is in favor of things that do.

It's a subtle sort of distinction.

"I understand perfectly," he assures him.

Havelock's a subtle kind of guy. He'll take the bad with the good and turn it to his advantage in any case.

"Oh, good," he says innocently, instead.

Puck smiles. In his arms, Adrian starts to snore softly.

... This prompts Puck to rise, carefully, and place him gently in his basket. (Well, chair. Crib. Thing. It's made of plastic; Lilly understands it better than he does.)

"I suppose we've a plan, then."

"We do seem to," agrees Havelock, with a very slight, tired but satisfied smile. He looks down at Aria, who is awake but dreamy, eyes held open in the fixed manner of a tired child about to sleep any time now, but holding on to consciousness.

He strokes her cheek lightly, something he's gotten more confident about as the weeks go by, and carefully gets to his feet so as not to jar her.

At this juncture, Puck's expression may soften uncharacteristically.

But he will kill you if you point it out to him.

"How perfectly wonderful."

Havelock wouldn't dream of it, especially as he lowers the baby girl very carefully into her own basket... thing. It wouldn't do to drop her simply because he's overtired.

"I hope so," he says, voice unintentionally softer than before. It's automatic when there are sleeping children in the room.

Puck smiles.

And tiptoes to Havelock's side, whereupon he presses a kiss to his cheek.

"I have not to slightest reason to doubt it."

The assassin smiles vaguely, turning his head to look at Puck properly.

"There is always the element of chance," he allows. "But I think between us we can weight the odds well enough."

"We ought to be able to, at least," Puck says, sounding vaguely scandalized. "Else I should imagine we had quite lost our touches."

Havelock shrugs.

"Well, it has been awhile," he says earnestly. Yes. "I felt most peculiar the other night, doing something was trained for. Lack of practise, you see."

He tilts his head.

"But all fell out in your favor, did it not?"

He shrugs loosely.

"More or less, yes."

It totally did. He even got to implicate someone else! :D!

Or :|

Puck smiles.

"That's all well, then. We shall manage it yet."

Havelock laughs silently - or ducks his head, smiling, which more or less counts - and turns back to sit on his bed with a faint sigh.

"Oh, I think we shall," he says eventually."

"Mmm."

This is a noise of agreement, which Puck makes as he joins him. Mattresses are definitely comfier and less labor-intensive than standing.

Also, Havelock is comfier than the mattress for leaning-against purposes. Puck has tested it empirically under controlled conditions.

It's almost surpising. He's not very squishy, really.

But he puts an accommodating arm around Puck when he arrives right next to him, so that's clearly all right.

"I forgot to ask," he says, after a quiet moment. "Is everything well here?"

"Mmm? Oh, quite well." Except for, you know, Lilly's being missing and everything. Puck hasn't quite caught on to that one yet.

"Rather distressingly dull, actually," he adds with a sigh. "Your own doings are of far greater interest."