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[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald Craven has always been a selfish and self-indulgent man, and there have been very few willing to challenge him when he went into his darker moods since Lilias Craven died. In the days since he quarreled with Lucy Pevensie he indulged himself first by shutting himself up in his rooms and later by expressing his will rather forcibly to the

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[a_poor_guardian]

At some point in the evening, Archibald empties his bottle of wine (a mellow red wine from the Rhône valley) into his glass and walks out towards the lake.

[puckishly]

When this point in the evening occurs, Puck's appearance outdoors should be chalked up to coincidence.

As should the presence of love-in-idleness in his pocket.

"Oh!" he says, sounding quite surprised. "Master Craven, isn't it?"

[a_poor_guardian]

"Robin," Archibald replies rather curtly. "Good evening."

He'd been hoping to find solitude in the Milliways grounds, and he isn't particularly pleased to be disturbed.

[puckishly]

Man. This would be a bit easier if he wasn't in a bad mood.

"Good even," Puck says, cheerfully enough. "I hope the night finds you well."

(Is anybody watching? He casts a few discreet glances at the surrounding trees.)

[slasherofprices]

What about brunet, male, getting up there in age, and quite alive?

And staring, because the other man looks familiar. But this isn't news. Simon Skinner has been staring at everyone since he walked in the bar.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald doesn't really look very much like Simon Skinner despite any similarity of PBs. He's a man of middle age, with high, crooked shoulders, hair beginning to gray and a deeply lined face.

When Archibald registers the stare he raises his head and looks back at the other man. "I beg your pardon, is something the matter?"

[slasherofprices]

Yes, the hair. At least Archibald has some. A lot of it. Skinner's hair is slowly retreating towards the Bahamas (and didn't have the courtesy to invite Skinner).

Skinner, who is still very much in Milliways, blinks and shakes his head. "No, no, I was just--" rudely staring "--thinking."

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald concludes that the man has been staring at his shoulders and back. People do.

"Were you," he answers, uninvitingly.

[gonna_live]

Well, Kaylee's two for four. Batting .500.

She's got a cup of tea; when her foot accidentally catches a chair on the other side of his table, she -- accompanied by a brief and florid curse in Chinese -- has to move quickly to catch herself. A little tea slops over the side and onto the floor.

Sheepishly: "Sorry about that. Havin' a clumsy kind of day."

[a_poor_guardian]

"That is all right," Archibald says, but he says so mechanically, as if he has not seen Kaylee at all.

A moment later, when Archibald does notice her, he looks carefully at her, trying to guess whether she is dead or not. Surely, if she is with child, she must be alive? In any case, the woman's accent immediately identifies her as a woman not of his social class, so she is not going to remind him too much of Lily.

Archibald attempts a smile. "Shall I send a waiter, beg pardon, a waitrat, for more tea?"

[gonna_live]

Kaylee breaks into a smile. "That's real nice of you, xiexie ni, but -- that's okay. I guess -- sometimes you get tea more out of habit rather than actually wantin' it, you know?"

[a_poor_guardian]

"I suppose so," says Archibald. The phrase Kaylee used sounds vaguely familiar, but he can't recall where he heard it.

The young woman doesn't look like she should be standing up for very long. Belatedly, Archibald adds, "Would you like to sit down?"