1 Work by kailitheoz
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Summary
"Aren't we a little old for silly love letters?" Barnabas snarked, plopping down next to Dion in the mess hall, broad shoulders bumping. Barnabas, who was never put together, was no different today with mismatched buttons and tie askew on his neck.
"I think it's rather sweet. Like a hallmark movie." Harbard purred, sitting beside Barnabas; in contrast, the silver haired man was always well put together, not a hair out of place, nor a wrinkle on his clothes.
Dion, all perfect teeth and hair and rich clothes, blond hair glimmering and honey brown eyes deep, looked lost in thought, ignoring the snarks of his questionable friends. "But... who would write me love letters?"