Correspondence

[windmilled]

CORRESPONDENCE

...OF THE ESTEEMED LORD LUIS SERRA, FIRST OF HIS NAME, HAILING FROM THE REALM OF VALDELOBOS, RESIDING AT PRESENT IN THE TRADE QUARTER. UNWED, BUT RECEPTIVE.

By way of audio, video, personal caller, or delivery.

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Comments

[windmilled]

Well maybe you should have taken riding class.

[He says, about as seriously as he took actual riding class, which is to say not at all.]

I do.

[He has a feeling that he knows what Leon is thinking. At least, he hopes. And for once, he doesn't jinx it by playing it off with a joke.]

[knife2meetu]

Maybe I did.

[ Leon's going to refrain from admitting how well that went. He flunked. Hard. Took days to recover from all the bruises. Thing is, he hasn't realized that Pheme set him up for failure by ensuring he got the bitchiest mare in the stable. ]

There's this place I've been meaning to try. If the grub's no good, we hit the Trident. First round's on me.

[windmilled]

[Luis beams.]

Sounds like a perfect "not-date."

When are you free?

[knife2meetu]

[ That beat of silence isn't because Leon held his breath, not at all. ]

Don't know yet. Gotta go. I'll keep in touch.

[windmilled]

[He clicks his tongue when Leon says he's gotta go, the only indication that on his end he rolls his eyes.]

Please do. Or else I'll have to start thinking you don't like me.

[One last tease, for the road.]