(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck has a scarf! A warm, fluffy scarf, made with love.

(Or so he assumes. You never can tell, with Havelock.)

Contrary to the impression that may be given by the icon, the scarf is varying shades of green, not varying shades of gray, and when Puck wears it he really does not look any more manic than usual.

In fact, right now he looks downright

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[subtle_will]

Puck...never looks innocuous.

Not even while drinking milk. Not even with a curly straw, and Will knows better. When he sits down at the bar nearby, lowering his satchel to the floor beside his stool, he orders tea.

No curly straw arrives with it. Dark eyes do, however, glance at Puck's, and something like a smile gets hidden behind a raised teacup.

[ooc: Merc I am slow and ninja-like tonight, and my AIM is on the fritz but! Come hell and damnation there will be Will-Puck like we decided.

...Er, there probably will be hell and damnation.]

[puckishly]

If the look that Puck gets is something like a smile, the look the tea gets is something like genteel horror.

Also an exceptionally loud slurp through the curly straw.

[OOC: *giggle* You are my favorite person ever. Yes, darnit!]

[subtle_will]

Will is unfazed. His tea is perfectly nice, and isn't being twisted into unnatural shapes to get to his mouth.

He hand't ever had a twisty straw as a child. Being Will, however, he'd never really wanted one to begin with.

As if to top it all off, he pauses, and reaches down to his satchel before taking out a large heavily-bound book and laying it open before him on the bartop to read.

Books and tea. And not even a curly straw. Will is deprived or depraved, clearly.

[puckishly]

Is he trying to give Puck a heart attack?

The glass of milk is set down with a solid clack.

"Will."

Those who do not know Puck will not be able to identify this as the Purr of Fearing Deeply for the State of Will's Well-Being.

"How perfectly wonderful to see you."

[subtle_will]

"Hallo, Puck," says Will, who either does not recognize the Purr or is choosing not to acknowledge it. He lays a hand on the pages to save his spot and glances over.

Those who do not know Will won't recognize this look as the Glance of Ever-So-Subtly Laughing a Whole Lot Inside.

As a matter of fact...it's likely that those who do know Will won't recognize it.

"Are you enjoying your drink?"

[puckishly]

Puck might not notice it, but he can certainly suspect it.

Suspiciously.

But he returns the Glance with one as guileless as he can muster.

"Oh, yes. I always do." A smile. "Milk, you know."

[subtle_will]

"I'm sure it's very nice," says Will, who then glances at the milk as though suspecting it might be harboring some sort of nasty surprise.

It isn't that he doesn't like milk. He does. Just...whatever Puck is enjoying so thoroughly as that tends to be a little suspect.

It's perfectly cordial, their conversation thus far (if it could be called one at all). And since Will had last spoken with Lyra, the sight of Puck is a very welcome one indeed.

A rare smile flits across his face, therefore, and lights the solemn dark eyes. "It's good to see you."

[puckishly]

Milk is very nice! The Fair Folk have an almost pathological devotion to dairy products.

Besides, Puck enjoys Will thoroughly. Er. Ahem.

Puck returns the smile, very slightly. It might be all the realer for it.

"And to see you."

[subtle_will]

It's enough, and Will is satisfied. One hand slips under the front cover of the book he had been reading and closes it; the other lifts his tea to his mouth. A shadowy large cat slips beneath his stool and sits there, her eyes glowing yellow and tail waving gently.

"Is this the hobby you picked?"

If he were anyone else, Will might blush as he speaks, since the...hobby he and Puck had last discussed had in fact turned out to be nothing like a hobby at all.

Well. Not for most people, anyway.

[puckishly]

If Puck does, in fact, actually have hobbies? That is probably one of them.

His gaze flickers down to Kirjava, and he smiles at her too. Then he blinks in the direction of the milk.

"Finding delicious beverages, you mean? Or being delighted to see you?"

[subtle_will]

Kirjava leaps lightly up to Will's lap and then to the bartop, and delicately reaches out to nose at the tip of Puck's glass, her ears twitching.

Will only looks amused. "Both. But I had meant the milk. And the straw."

[puckishly]

"Ahh," Puck says, enlightened, watching as Kirjava nudges his glass. "In that case, the glass and straw are both rather new, but the milk itself is not."

A slight smile. "Have you not heard the tales? My kind is quite enamored of cream. They used to leave it out for us in bowls."

[subtle_will]

"You told me I oughtn't believe anything I heard about your kind, in tales."

The image of someone leaving a bowl of cream on a doorstop for Puck is at once alarming and amusing; Will watches as Kirjava sits down to wrap her tail around her paws.

"That doesn't seem right," she says, scornfully. "We've never seen you drink out of a bowl. Not like a dog or a cat would."

[puckishly]

"I did tell you that," Puck agrees sagely. "However, I am also a thief and a liar."

To be fair, he didn't say he should disbelieve everything he heard. Just ... mostly everything.

He makes a face in Kirjava's direction.

"I did, though," he says. "And while I was at it, I'd paint my face and wear garments all of leaves and grasses." He waves a hand at his glass, his button-down shirt-- even the bar in general. "All of this is merely the trappings of your own kind. And I do like to blend, you know."

[subtle_will]

"I know," Will says. He does. He's spent most of his life trying to blend in, in one way or another. There's a reason why Kirjava settled as a cat and a reason why her fur is so shadowy velvet black-purple-coal.

"But you kind of stick out anyway."

(Kirjava, if she could, would make a face back. Instead she pretends not to see his and busies herself with staring over Puck's shoulder until she's quite sure he's finished. It makes Will smile again.)

[puckishly]

Puck's smile, this time, is a little rueful.

"So they tell me."