(Untitled)

[soapcarvedhands]

He's crazy, he's blond, he's shy, and he's totally at your disposal.

Come say hi to Harding!

(Which is to say, there's a tall, slender blond man picking his way through a plate of tea sandwiches--what? he'd liked them!--and sipping, quite appropriately, a mug of Darjeeling.)

Comments

[puckishly]

There may or may not be a fairy in Harding's immediate vicinity.

However, his theft of one of Harding's sandwiches is pretty indisputable.

[soapcarvedhands]

"Oh dear," Harding says. "One of my sandwiches is gone. La! What a theft! Whatever shall I do?"

[puckishly]

Puck munches shiftily.

Thickly, "I do hope you shan't report me, at least. I am already rather better acquainted with the cells than I've any care to be."

[soapcarvedhands]

"Weeeellll," he says, a considering look on his face. "I suppose if you sit down properly, I can find it within myself to forgive you."

[puckishly]

Puck grins, sliding into the seat opposite, and grabs for a second sandwich.

"Your magnanimity is an example to us all."

[soapcarvedhands]

"I do try to set an example to all and sundry, you know."

Then he sticks his tongue out.

Real role model, Harding.

[puckishly]

He laughs.

"All and sundry are most fortunate, then."

There then ensues a moment of silence, which is silent primarily because Puck has popped the second sandwich into his mouth and is chewing philosophically. After a moment he swallows.

And regards Harding with a level, almost searching gaze.

"I am glad to see you, you know."

[soapcarvedhands]

He blushes.

"I--I'm glad to see you too," he says, and his hands are forced under his knees.

[puckishly]

Puck smiles, gaze dropping. His hands are much better now; you can scarcely see the scars.

"How have you been keeping yourself?"

[soapcarvedhands]

"Well, I suppose. As far as that goes."

He smiles brightly.

"No lightning strikes."

[puckishly]

Puck's lips quirk wryly.

"That, at least, is a bit of good news. I am glad to hear of it."

[soapcarvedhands]

"Perhaps not as glad as I."

He sips at his tea, and makes a face. "Darjeeling. Cold. Not a good combination."

[puckishly]

Well touche, Harding.

"Tea, I find," Puck says, "is seldom good with anything." Making a face of his own. "Never mind the combination. 'Tis one of its great failings."

[soapcarvedhands]

Harding looks at his emptying plate.

"It's all right with tea sandwiches. Sometimes. Not pineapple ones."

That expression on his face speaks of experience. Bar has a sense of humor, it seems!

[puckishly]

Puck blinks owlishly.

"Pineapple sandwiches?"

[soapcarvedhands]

"Yes."

They're not unpleasant, not exactly. They're just not . . . expected, when one has recently had a mouthful of cucumber.

"I wouldn't necessarily recommend them."

It's a good thing Harding has only experienced the more tame species of pizza.