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[The letter has been folded over several times and wrapped in leather to keep it dry.]
Hey, kadan. Sorry I can’t be there for Hearts’ Day - we got four leagues into the Coast before I realised: “well, shit.” Giving this to Stitches - he’s got the longest legs - and hitting him on the ass so hard he’ll be giving this to you cross-eyed. But, on time. Do you even celebrate this? Ah, fuck it if you don’t. You can throw this out and yell at me later.
Everyone sends their regards and all. Krem told me to tell you hey from him specifically. So, picture him, lying out on a bench, waving a small bottle and going “Chief! Me too. By name.” Little bit slurred. We weren’t getting drunk on the job, promise. Just getting drunk with loot from the job.
I’m not there to loosen you up for the next while, so you look after yourself. Waste time. You’re fucking indestructible, boss. Doesn’t mean you can’t make yourself a blanket fort at the end of a hard day. Yeah, I know you do that. Of course I know you do that. I do that.
I used to… click into gear. A lot. Even with you, but you get that. After we fucked up Corypheus, I thought, I can say or do anything and compromise nothing. Tal-Vashoth make their own consequences. Now I’m thinking it’s got to do with being in a good place. The Inquisition. The Chargers. With you, kadan. So, thanks.
I’m not always so tensed up now. Guess I learned you don’t just protect something by fighting beside it. Fighting’s still fantastic. I just love you, too.
— Bull