(Untitled)

[puckishly]

Puck is in the bar.

This is in no way unusual.

The only thing that might be even vaguely considered strange is the way he keeps folding and unfolding his wings, as if he can't decide whether he wants them on display.

Green eyes tonight, dark as pine forests-- perhaps he's feeling lucky.

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[operathon]

Erik, the Angel of Music, not literally just figuritively speaking in his own world; he considers himself God, or close to it and wants all to worship his genius skills and fear him all in one. But today, the Angel is not happy nor in a good mood as he sits in a booth with his normal glass of red wine, his boney leather gloved fingers curling and uncurling around the glass.

Wine could not cure him for his yearning for Paris, for home.

[puckishly]

Ooh, someone in distress.

Delectable.

Wings folding and vanishing, Puck slips through the crowd and emerges somewhere in the neighborhood of Erik's booth. Suddenly-- so suddenly that anyone watching would most likely assume she'd blinked and missed something-- he's leaning against the booth's side, glancing across the table at Erik.

"Is it such a dull night already?"

[operathon]

Startled by the sudden prescence of this boy, a bit of his wine topples over and stains the table below him; he breathes in deeply to try and regain himself after such a startle and then he glances up. A boy, green eyes, beautiful green eyes, they were captivating. Erik always found the smallest details of a human to be mesmerizing.

"I am afraid so, dear boy." Erik frowns, his dark inset eyes gleaming with a touch of utter boredness as he stares, no, admires the boys eyes from across the table.

[puckishly]

Puck appears to be unconscious of the attention he's being paid.

Appears to be.

"You'd best see to that, oughtn't you?" he says, indicating the spilt wine with a flick of a slim finger. Then he smiles lazily. "It is a bit slow tonight, I've noticed."

[white_flowers]

Her glittering gaze falls on Puck, and Blodwen studies him coolly for a long moment.

And then she smiles warmly at him, and waves him over.

[puckishly]

Wings extending-- it's some sort of greeting, possibly even a salute-- Puck ambles in her direction, hands in pockets.

"Well, good even to you, Mistress Rowlands."

[white_flowers]

"And to you as well, dear," she tells him, still smiling. "Lovely it is to see you again -- sit with me, won't you?"

[puckishly]

"The feeling is certainly mutual."

Puck leans back against the Bar, then gradually slides to sit on one of the stools. His wings prove to be slight obstructions in this, and he turns a little to free them.

[redsnout]

Scribble isn't quite sure what the things on Puck's back are, but she's absolutely fascinated by them. The chick peers up at Puck, blinking owlishy as she tilts her head to the side. "Yeep?"

[puckishly]

Puck imitates her, head tilting and eyes widening almost comically.

"Yeep?"

[redsnout]

Scribble bounces happily at the mimickry. "Yeep! Yeepyeepyeep!" She paws at the air hopefully. Maybe he has food?

[puckishly]

Oh great, now it's attacking.

Or maybe it wants nourishment. Either way, that would be a no.

"My dear creature," he says smoothly, "I am afraid you aren't making yourself clear."

[dragonofgrey]

Icy grey eyes watched the wings. Transfiguration? He didn't think that was the case here. He sipped his drink moodily.

[puckishly]

People are so despondent tonight. Is it something in the air?

"Is it bitter?"

[dragonofgrey]

"Hardly. It's firewhiskey. Not you would likely know."

Draco then asked, "You're not a Muggle, and you seem awfully large to be a pixie. What are you?"

[puckishly]

"That, I am afraid, is where you are wrong." Puck likes firewhiskey! Barty introduced him to it.

His wings flutter.

"My dear sir," Puck says, eyes narrowing only slightly at being compared to a pixie, "you seem a relatively bright sort of mortal. Surely you know the tales."

[maxwellsdemon02]

"There's something you don't see every day. Feeling like an exhibitionst?"

Duo taps Puck on the head with one finger, smirking.

[puckishly]

Puck rolls his eyes.

"I was wondering when I would see your glorious visage again."

[maxwellsdemon02]

Duo preens, rather over dramatically. "I knew you'd come around eventually. Enjoying the snow, or does it interfere with your fun?"

[puckishly]

He snickers.

"Few things in heaven and earth, Master Maxwell, could interfere with my fun."

He looks him over.

"And you? What have you been doing with yourself-- or did you run off with your fellow?"