Robin Goodfellow

It has been some time since he's wandered out of doors.

Well, out of doors here. He is seldom anywhere else on the Disc, the Grand Sneer being the winding and tedious journey that it is. But it's a pleasant enough night, as such things go: The stars shine with passing brightness, and the earth beneath his feet is colder than it was.

He cannot shake a feeling of unease.

He has literally no idea how long he's been without the ability to leave this form, since he hasn't much head for reckoning time to begin with. But now he realizes things are coming to a point when something really, really must be done.

He writes Lilly a note:

My dearest bride,

I would speak with you, if you have the time. I've two bottles of rather good wine (though not Atlantean), and Havelock shan't be nigh for some time.

An it should please you come upstairs, my state is very dire.

I remain tremendously yours,
Puck

That done, he climbs the stairs, disarms Havelock's traps on the door, and settles onto the bed to wait.

If Lilly doesn't answer, he can drink himself into a mild coma.