(Untitled)
Havelock, in an effort to keep his mind of various things, is writing letters in the library, secluded at a desk and left alone by librarians, possibly out of recognition of a kindred spirit, possibly just out of self-preservation
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He's not outside, which perhaps he could have been if he wanted to practice his throwing aim under nocturnal conditions.
He's not in the bar (Puck checked the rafters).
That leaves ... well, a few likely places, but of all of them Puck finds the likeliest to be that room with all the books in.
A silent shape, with tousled hair and bright curious eyes, appears abruptly in the doorway and casts about searchingly.
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Havelock is not actually in the shadows here, as that is counterproductive for both reading and writing, but in a warmly lamp-lit corner. He peruses a page thoughtfully, pen held poised in ink-stained fingers, but only taps the end against the desk in faint irritation rather than writing any more.
He just remembered what he was trying not to think about. This won't do at all.
(It isn't helping with the letter-writing either.)
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Fortunately for Puck, Havelock is a precise sort of person.
He disappears again, flickering into view (prudently) not behind him or otherwise out of view, but leaning against the desk.
"Do I disturb your work?"
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(He leaves black fingerprints, without caring much - he will have to rewrite a copy in any case.)
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--But at the moment, there are slightly more pressing matters to attend to.
"Oh, good," Puck says vaguely.
"I've a gift for you."
He withdraws the letter and seal from his pocket, setting them on the desk in front of Havelock.
"What do you make of this? I've a glad suspicion, and one slightly less glad."
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He unfolds the paper and reads in silence.
Slowly, his eyebrows lift.
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"Quite."
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"Is it at least accurate?"
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He clears his throat.
"I do despise that vampire known as Vlad Tepesh," he says, and startles a little. Then he grins. "Or Vlad Drakulya, as the case may be. It is my fervent wish that he perish in a fire."
... Well.
That's a relief.
Puck bursts into a gale of delighted laughter.
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"Good."
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Puck can hardly speak for laughing, but he abandons speaking for the moment anyhow to throw himself into Havelock's lap and kiss him, quite insistently, on the mouth.
"I despise him--" he gasps, between a giggle and another kiss.
"I truly-- truly do--"
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"I know," he manages, around kisses.
"With the greatest venom."
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"So. That matter would seem to be settled. The creature did not lie."
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"Although why he released you so suddenly I cannot fathom. What did he want in the first place?"
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"I can hardly imagine his reasons. Perhaps he has managed to come by a--"
Puck stops speaking.
And opens his mouth.
... Yeah, he knew this was too good to be true.
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Ah.
"Interesting," he says softly and grimly.
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