by Stanzin
CHAPTER 12.2
Letter from Mixer
Gregory Grey,
c/o Commander of the Throne’s Watch, Magus Quincy Appleby
The Apple, High Town, The West Wing,
Domremy City
August 6th, 1909.
Dear Greg,
Things usually become funny before they become this sad. The Director is writing this for me. I can’t think very well, because of all the poppy they’ve stuffed me with to help with the pain. He’s also keeping out the stuff I say when I ramble.
Are things sad at your end too? I hope not. Reggie and Alf aren’t sad any more – the gits skived off their sadness and left it all up to us. Why do we always take up their slack?
I heard you went and got yourself knighted. What sort of fool move was that? I can’t ever be seen in your company if you’re going dress like a light show. Please don’t dress like a light show.
Reggie and Alf never got to see your gifts. But I think they would have been glad. Thanks for the knife. It’s beautiful. I’m trying to think up of a name. The Director says when I’ve healed up a bit, he’ll blood it for me.
Reggie and Mixer got a nice pyre and headstones. I got the Bobbin to put their instruments into the earth near their headstones.
I can’t think of what else to say, so I’m done.
Mixer