(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck came downstairs this evening to discover a strange present.

He has now sniffed at it, and turned it over in his hands, and admired its coruscating qualities. The real fun begins, however, when his fingers come upon a small movable piece in the device.

Hrrrmmmmmmmmm--Puck drops the toy as if it's burned him and stares with wide, slightly wary

Comments

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock has no helpful ideas.

He could maybe assassinate it if need be?

For the moment, though, he's just sitting nearby and eyeing the thing in stonefaced judgement.

[puckishly]

"Havelock!" Puck brightens, over the hrrrmmmmmm of the sparkling demon.

The noise is really very intriguing.

"River Tam has given me a gift."

[oneman_onevote]

Well, that makes it marginally less likely to be deadly.

Now it is just inexplicable!

"So I see," he says, still eyeing it. "Is it alive?"

[puckishly]

Puck eyes it as well, appraisingly.

"As to that," he says, cautious, "I have not asked it."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock narrows his eyes at it, then makes a polite 'after you' gesture.

He's the quintessential Bad Cop for all your interrogating needs, Puck!

[puckishly]

Puck gives a slight gracious nod, then clears his throat.

"I crave your pardon," he says (hrrmmmmm), "but, if you be some feeling creature, we do pray you give some sign of it."

The sparkling thing vibrates.

"Perhaps we ought to kill it," he murmurs out the side of his mouth.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock's eyebrows shoot upward when it starts buzzing at them.

It sounds like aggressive purring.

Darkly, "If that is not already a death rattle, perhaps."

[puckishly]

"Do you think so?" Puck says with a solicitous frown.

"Could you stab it?"

[oneman_onevote]

"Yes."

Ask a silly question, Puck!

He draws a dagger, and eyes the thing thoughtfully, watching it trundle in a random manner that suggests life, if not intelligence.

"Should I?"

[puckishly]

"Oh, yes," Puck says, plucking at Havelock's sleeve as he watches the thing's progression.

"Do."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock gets off his seat and leans down, one knee blocking its path.

It bumps into his leg and rolls back helplessly.

The knifetip stills it momentarily, and the buzzing increases in pitch, as if in distress.

"Hmm," Havelock says. "The centre is not flesh."

[puckishly]

Puck blinks, baffled.

"Is it not?" he says.

THEN WHY IS IT MOVING.

"I can perceive no spell upon it."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock lifts the knife, then taps it down again, hard enough that the impact can be heard even though the layers of fluff.

"Strange."

He picks the thing up, instead, letting it roll freely around his cupped hands.

"Perhaps if the fur were gone..."

[puckishly]

Puck is not ENTIRELY sure that it is wise to pick this thing up directly with one's hands. Nevertheless, he greatly admires Havelock's bravery in doing so.

"I hardly see how it may hurt," he says merrily.

And adds, after a moment's thought, "Hurt us."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock is bold and heroic in that manner.

(He'd frown at being called either of those, mind you.)

So he just catches the thing between two fingers and slices at a section of fluff, shaving it close to the centre.

[puckishly]

Puck could possibly be doing something more productive than hovering over Havelock's shoulder and peering with great alacrity.

But 'productive' isn't exactly his middle name.

"What can you see?" (Hint: Probably the exact same thing Puck can, which is: plastic.)