The Lanesborough's best delivery boy was surprisingly young, spritely, and nearly too eager to earn his keep. Upon his shoulders, his glad Sisyphus shoulders, he bore the weight of the world's lettered correspondance. Gravely, and with solemn love, he delivered his messages.

Sometimes, mailboxes would not do, and he would force extra air into his lungs so that his gaunt frame might swell and paint him as dignified as he addressed recipients, or their servants, directly. The tingle of excitement was unbearable as the boy came upon his destinations. The tips he often received were utterly devalued in contrast to the brushing he did against the elbows of the revered, the great and tall and worldly.

Isis Manor was not the grandest of estates that he'd visited, and yet it was no landmark at which to scoff. As he approached the door, his careful instructions were revisited, the rattling voice of Daniel echoing within his skull. This one is important, and must be delivered in person!

Skin & bones for knuckles rapped politely. And he waited, determined to stay as long as was necessary.

The boy's chest puffed, as rehearsed a thousand times before, and he gave the small woman a grave (but always respectul) look. He ignored her graceful limbs, which seemed too lovely. After all, the boy was a boy beneath his uniform.

"Are you Mrs. de Vernon? I have a very important letter that must be delivered!"

The letter was relinquished only when the woman confirmed that she was the wife of the man who must receive his package. With a gently-dipped bow, he replied to her question.

"The Lanesborough Hotel, miss. If you won't be needing me further, I must get back."

He lifted himself from his bow and gave her a nod, hoping that she was satisfied. He had many other letters to deliver, and the sun only remained in the sky for so long.

Dearest Sebastian,

It occurred to me that I rather rudely ignored your dinner invitation in my reply to your letter. I suppose I was too excited by the arrival of your note! I've sent a swift delivery boy to make amends, and to let you know that I would be happy to meet with you under such circumstances.

Please send word so that I know where you'd like to meet.


Warmly yours,
Illy

Trust is a vital part of marriage.

So when Sebastian came home that evening, he went about the repetetive motions of struggling with the door lock, hanging up his jacket, tossing his keys on the table....

And that was when he noticed it. The mail - more importantly, the letter. It was plain and opened, but if it was in this spot, it was to be read. He swiped it off the little table and kicked off his boots before moving into the livingroom to sit by the fire.

"Erin?" He called out, somewhat distractedly due to the fact that he was in the process of pulling out the letter. He was curious of it's contents, but equally curious where the love of his life was. Nothing's better than getting a hug and a kiss when you get home from work.

Settling himself onto the couch with a loud huff, Bastian propped his feet up on the coffee table and unfolded the letter. He scanned the paper quickly, smiled and then went back to read the letter as a whole. It's contents made him grin. Once again, the boy's mind began to wander; dreaming up places of where they could meet. It was a pity it wasn't spring. He'd liked to have taken her to an orchard where they could sit beneath a blossoming cherry tree. He loved the out-of-doors and everything nature had to offer. It was so inspiring....

But that wouldn't do. It was the dead of winter! Hmm where could they go?

"Hey Sweetheart!" Bastian looked up, still grinning and waved her over. He didn't move from the couch, because he was lazy, and simply opened his arms for a hug. "Sit with me. Warm me up, hm?"

The letter was in one of his hands. Obviously not hiding it. Nor would he bring it up if she obviously read it. In Bastian's mind, there was nothing wrong with meeting his professor for dinner so she could read some of his work. Why would he wonder what Erin's reaction would be?