My Dearest Inej

Chapter Nine: Temporary Arrangements

My dearest Inej,

I think I've stared at the window for the last hour, at the spot where you said you're in love with me. This can't be normal behavior, and I should probably be more concerned. Tell me you're as distracted as I am.

I think I like kissing, but thorough reconnaissance ought to be conducted before we make any real conclusions. At least a hundred similar nights ought to do it, don't you think? We should really know this thing inside and out – a sentence that I did not intend as a double entendre and now I immediately regret writing it. I would ordinarily be throwing this out and starting again. But you said you wanted it all, not just the sides of me that are acceptable and amusing. So, here we are and now you know. I'm only human and sometimes I write regrettable things in black ink.

Are you're enjoying how flummoxed you've left me? Because I've reached truly unprecedented levels of flummox. I've done hardly anything this week. I've spent a fair amount of time moving some stocks and shares around, and given the high return on investment I'm gaining back from that, I should probably be spending more of my time pencil-pushing anyway.

Gods, I'm boring myself. I'd rather be kissing you again. I'd rather be kissing you than doing just about anything else.

Will you still be amenable to kissing me again if the aftermath of our first kiss turns me into a simple moon-faced, pencil-pushing mercher? Inquiring minds need to know.

It's mine, full disclosure. It's my inquiring mind. Tell me when I'll be able to kiss you next. Come home and flummox me again.

With a disgusting and mortifying amount of affection,

I'm yours,

Kaz

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My most perplexing Inej,

This letter of yours, Inej, was a bit of a ride. It starts out so well, and then... Why wouldn't you just tell me about the teeth grinding while you were here, if it was that bad? I could have done something, and then you might have slept better. Now what am I expected to do? I can't very well experiment with solutions on my own, now can I?

I don't know how to answer any of your questions. Am I meant to read these as concern or condescension? I suppose I still have teeth because it's not actually as bad as you're hyperbolizing. I don't know why my jaw doesn't hurt. Or maybe it does. Maybe you've never met me – something literally always hurts. You live with pain long enough, and it gets difficult to discern after awhile.

Damnit, Inej. This is going to bother me.

I'm not ready to be angry. It's too nice being flummoxed. I propose a change in subject.

Jesper and Wylan have done something dumb. There have been a string of break-ins in their neighborhood, which I could easily have taken care of for them, but instead Wylan's gone and decided they need a dog. Which is beyond me – he lives with the best marksman I've ever known. A dog isn't going to improve their situation. And certainly not the dog they've picked out.

I think it's supposed to be some kind of hound someday, but it's barely weaned from its mother. They've named it Ambroos, and the name is bigger than the dog itself. It can fit in the middle of a single kitchen tile. It's not going to protect them from anything except respectability. I've been told it's already peed on every surface in the house and howls at least four times a night.

Inej, it is so useless and stupid and fucking delightful. It will actually trip over its own ears when it runs to greet you at the door. It sleeps with this hot water bottle that's nearly twice its size. I find myself visiting it almost every lunch hour. I hate myself. You have to come see it.