(Untitled)

[no_justice]

Death is about to order a drink, when he is greeted with a napkin instead. He reads it.

Very well. Sleep is good for the living.

He's just walking around to the other side when another napkin appears, the writing on which is more obscure, due to being written by someone about to go to sleep.

Pants are required.It's accompanied by something to

Comments

[puckishly]

Puck, now thankfully free of his fuzzy dinosaur confines, blinks curiously in the skeleton's direction.

And then blinks into appearance at the Bar, elbows resting nonchalantly on the counter.

"A Robin's Nest, if you would," he says with a very polite smile.

[no_justice]

You mean a human drink with the same name?

Death likes to be sure.

[puckishly]

Puck considers, tilting his head.

"I think so," he decides.

Tempting as a nice robin's nest would be, especially drizzled in hot sauce.

[no_justice]

Death checks the Big Book of Cocktails and sets about making it.

Now I provide entertaining small talk, don't I? He hazards.

[puckishly]

He laughs.

"I think it should only be courteous of me to assist. You are, after all, occupied."

Another tilt of his head, in the opposite direction.

"I have seen you before."

[no_justice]

Have you? says Death

I have been coming here a few years.

[puckishly]

"As have I," Puck replies cheerfully.

"In which case, it is likely my negligence in having only seen you, and not having made your proper acquaintance. Robin Goodfellow is my name."

[no_justice]

Pleased to meet you is the polite answer. I am Death

[puckishly]

"Are you?"

Pleasant blinking.

He doesn't really spend much time around Deaths of any description (save perhaps the petit ones), but he rather thought the one hanging about this place was a bit more ... well, more. In terms of having flesh.

Something that looks like flesh.

"Enchanted."

[no_justice]

Funny how reputations stick around here.

I'm off duty, Death explains, because sometimes it's necessary.

[puckishly]

Puck laughs.

"If you were not, should I have aught to fear from you? It seems quite a season for pestilence and plague."

[no_justice]

Nothing to fear from me, Death says. Plague and pestilence are your own problem.

[puckishly]

He wrinkles up his nose.

"Not to quibble, but they are neither of them of my own making. Nor that of my kin."

[no_justice]

I did not mean to imply they were, Death remarks. Merely that I am not the cause of myself.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock, meanwhile, lurks his way along behind, picking a suspiciously yellow shred of fluff off his shoulder.

Death recieves a distantly polite nod, one professional to another, but he doesn't order a drink as his mun has already started a Happy Hour thread and has rapidly dwindling brainspace.

[puckishly]

Puck notices him after a moment or three.

"Hullo," he says, which is delivered as a murmur against Havelock's ear.

Public?

What?