Jack Harkness' room :: Mid-2005 timewarp AU :: Milliways

[othercaptjack]

Jack's room is mostly basic, it has to be said.

In fairness, he hasn't had much chance to make it his own - it has only been (ahem) somewhere private to go that is not the TARDIS for when he visits Milliways.

And since he is not Bound, for most of the time it stays empty, storing just some clean clothes and basic necessities (well - basic if you're Jack) and not much else.


There is this to be said for it, too:

The door may be locked, but it is not booby-trapped.

Lucky for some.

Comments

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck slips into the room and peers about curiously, twirling the ring of lockpicks.

It's dreadfully lucky, isn't it, to have got the door open so soon? In minor matters, at least, Puck's tendency towards unearned luck seems to remain intact.

"Empty," he announces to the mortal.

[oneman_onevote]

Dreadfully lucky.

The mortal is currently distracted, however, by the undead creature which has staggered round the corner, seen them both, and the lumbered forward with a hungry groan, bloody fingertips clutching ahead.

Havelock meets it with a headlong rush and a swing of the sword which it somehow evades and crowds forwards, forcing him to back against the wall.

Ahead, further mindless groaning sounds.

...Oh, good.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Oh great.

Puck spins around and ducks back into the hall, where their newest and deadest acquaintance makes a lunge for him.

What happens next looks a little like a pointillist painting-- blurry, but punctuated with spots of action (or in this case, spots of blood). It ends with Puck squeamishly withdrawing the ring of picks from the creature's eyes.

They are all covered in some manner of corpsical fluid.

Ew. Ew. Ew--

"Come come," he says, pinching the metal ring between two fingertips and plucking at Havelock's sleeve with his free hand, "I had rather not have any more come near."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock raises his eyebrows at Puck's rather specific fastidiousness, but is more than happy to duck after him into the room, and slam the door after them both.

...Then he leans his whole weight against it, and glances at Puck once more.

"Try and lock it?" he suggests with some urgency.

A heavy weight slams into it from the other side, throwing him off balance, but he regains his footing and leans back hard once more.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck glances to the key ring and then to the doorknob ...

And a moment's jiggling about with the handle, while his weight is thrown against the door as well, produces that beautiful click once more. Puck steps back-- a thump against the door makes him jump-- and reaches up to grab the ludicrously insecure-looking latch.

Another thud slams against the door. Puck looks around for something heavy; the options appear to be primarily a) bed, b) chair and c) chest of drawers.

"I expect I shan't wish to sleep," he mutters, and moves from the door for the former.

[oneman_onevote]

Bang.

Ouch.

Havelock stays where he is for the moment, not trusting the strength of the door and its one lock against the horde beyond.

"Well," the young assassin says, voice pitched unexpectedly low and soft, "they do not seem to be intelligent creatures. With luck they will shortly forget we are in here."

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck snorts, but throws the pillows off the bed and tries moving it.

A moment later, he amends and also throws the mattress. The bed scrapes a little easier along the floor towards the door, at roughly ice floe speeds. Then Puck steps round behind it and its progress speeds somewhat.

"... You shall have to move now," he informs Havelock.

Politely.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock waits a strategic moment until the next blow comes from behind the door, cushioning that; then he pulls away, jumping up and over the bed.

Free to move once more, he turns and adds his weight to the effort, pushing the bed forward against the door to hold it closed.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck glances at it a moment; it seems to hold well enough, but the repeated thumps against the door still make it shake.

Irked, he strains a moment and turns the bed on its side, legs facing inwards towards them. Then Puck slumps down, back to the door, and shuts his eyes.

"One of the bottles, if you would?" he mutters.

He has left them, along with the lockpick ring, somewhere in the middle of the floor. At least one of the bottles appears to contain whiskey, but the other is a bright magenta and anyone's guess.

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock is currently giving Puck a thoroughly appraising look - it isn't exactly a surprise, but knowing someone is most likely stronger than they look is rather different to seeing it.

He silently picks up a bottle and hands it over.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck's hand, as it were, has been rather decisively tipped over the past hour or so.

But right now he's thinking only of the alcohol.


... Magenta it is. He uncaps the bottle, sniffs it, and takes a long drink.

[oneman_onevote]

...Well.

It looks like Havelock will be spending the forseeable future barricaded in a room with a drunken faerie, then.

He raises an eyebrow but leaves him to it for the moment, turning to prowl around the room; exmining the window first, then checking through the closed door to be sure there is no other way in through the bathroom.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck's eyes follow the mortal as he goes.

After a moment (he sets the bottle down, a quarter emptied), his eyes narrow.

"Why," he says pleasantly, "have you helped me?"

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock is by this time examining the chest of drawers, careful and methodical.

"Why would I not?" he asks pleasantly, but glances back, and his eyes are sharp.

He knows full well there is a reason or two.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck laughs, though as before it comes out in a snort.

"Well," he says.

"I suppose I did bid thee forget it."

[oneman_onevote]

Levelly, "I suppose."


Havelock continues going through the drawers with careful unconcern.

(Nice underpants, Jack.)

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

His smile fades rather quickly.



"Why, then."

And, more importantly, what was he talking about with Hellebore?

"I expect you have heard what sort of creature I am."

[oneman_onevote]

"Something of the kind, perhaps," he allows.

Admittedly, between Hellebore's opinion and his own research, Havelock is willing to admit he may not yet have a complete picture.

All the more reason to keep the creature close, to find out.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck rolls his eyes.

If you will not tell me, I can make you. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't say them.

He reaches for the bottle beside him instead, ignoring the groans and thumps from just beyond the door.

[oneman_onevote]

And therein would be the reason Havelock still does not trust him.


Because he knows what was just below the surface there, could feel it, and-

He felt defensive for Puck, earlier, when Hellebore so obviously wanted to see him harmed or dead; he felt he understood something of what he was running from. He even thinks he quite likes him, on a simple level, but there is so much danger in dropping his guard. The Fae do not treat mortals well - this is a fact.

And assassins are not well-equipped to trust.

Silently, he turns his attention back to the search.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck is silent for a moment, drinking.

A few swallows more and he can nearly feel it begin to affect him.




"You might at least tell me what you wish."

His eyes haven't left the assassin, and his voice does not betray weariness.

But there is the fact that he's clutching the rapidly diminishing alcohol the way a child might a favorite doll.

"Mortals do, betimes."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock pulls out a small metal box of some sort, and eyes it curiously.

"Nothing particularly."

Not that Puck could actually help with, at least - the sad reality of Havelock's planned coup d'etat is that the process is slow and rather dull.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

He laughs faintly, but doesn't say anything more.

[oneman_onevote]

That is apparently settled.

Havelock continues searching the remainig drawers in silence, then closes them when it is clear that there is nothing particularly helpful in there.

With a sigh, he sits down on the edge of the abandoned mattress, draws his sword once more, and begins to wipe the blade clean from the dark blood currently staining the metal.

[puckishly.livejournal.com]

Puck watches him at it, with every appearance of idleness.

Apparently, none of the drawers or boxes contained snacks.


His fingers tap absently against the carpeted floor. Outside the door, groans continue to sound, punctuated by the occasional battle cry, explosion, and scream.

The last of these makes Puck twitch.

"'Tis far off," he says in a low voice, the subtext there being FEEL FREE NOT TO GO.