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
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He could maybe assassinate it if need be?
For the moment, though, he's just sitting nearby and eyeing the thing in stonefaced judgement.
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So does Havelock's knife, which rattles against the still-vibrating black plastic casing inside the toy.
"...Not much," he concludes.
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"I can take no proper meaning from it."
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