Plop! Another golden marble wriggle-rolled itself across the parquetry floor to fall heavily into the stairwell and down the side of the velvet runner into a small congregation of other such rounds of gold gathered at the bottom below.
The child laughed knowingly. She liked the sport, for the noise defied the quiet very nicely.
Her little tunic was slathered in something that had been caramel, and another that had been milk; and her face was grimy with a smile that could not have been bigger.
"You will have to return her,” Goober said as casually as he could make it sound.
Puck tossed another marble, the infant squealed and thumped her little fist out on the ground as if to stop it.
"Marley won't remember a thing ... she never does." he whined, as if taking Charley for the night might be just one of those things.
"It’s plain to see you're miserable my old pal. How’s about I get Charley back to her Mum and you go get yourself some proper think time."
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
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