Puck jumps, grabbing for the bottle. Upon giving the matter a moment's thought-- but no more than that-- he pops into view a few feet from Havelock, draining said bottle of its contents.

He thinks it has a rosy future as a bludgeoning tool.

Also: now he feels tingly.

"What is strange," he murmurs dryly-- though not so dryly as he might like. "That I think?"