[What's this? It's a letter! His name, Gilbert is written in plain black ink. And this is what's written inside:]
Gilbert, the hopeless bishop:
I do hope you're keeping this to yourself. Not because I think you're a gossip, but because I would rather this stayed between us.
For this is not an apology. Not quite, because that would mean that I would be asking for your forgiveness. And I don't think you would want this.
But it is an acknowledgement for my behaviour.
There are times where I make you yelp like a puppy; there are times where there is true distress and panic in your eyes. And I can not help but enjoy seeing you express yourself. Hearing your voice crackle and squeak, your eyes widen, the little huffs that you make...
It's endearing. I like the look in your eyes when you take a stand against me, the way you look when you're flustered. Another would say that this was a love confession.
This is not. I merely enjoy the time that I spend with you. Though sometimes, I cause you more distress then you can handle. You are, to me, a nervous man. But...
I do not think I will ever see the man who is centred and focused, who could take my breath away like you did for that moment of conviction. I don't know if anyone will. But in a way, I wish it were possible.
I know that I can not make you smile either. Nor have I thanked you for the purse and the hat that you purchased for my sake. I would like to buy you a hat, but I do not know what style would suit you. Or perhaps I should get you cigarettes? Gloves?
I don't know if any of these things would make you smile, or laugh, but it would at least repay the small favor of times past. I meant to do it sooner.
You have no need to reply to this drivel if you do not wish to. Burn it even. Just try not to get ashes up your nose, Gilbert. I would have to snicker at your sneezes.
[The reply doesn't arrive immediately as Gilbert needs some time to reread the letter he received from Caren a few times and to think of an appropriate answer.
Maybe not just some time. But it's finally here.]
Caren,
I will never share the contents of that letter, as I am aware of the wrath I would bring upon myself. I suppose writing is much easier for me, I would not even dare to say such a thing, would I?
Honestly, I had no idea you were so concerned about your behavior. Or about my, well, nervousness. If I may...this is what I would call endearing. Moreover, I would like to assure you that despite my usual behavior (which, I admit, maybe a bit misleading), I do enjoy spending time with you. Do not hesitate to tell me I am a weird man after reading this, but after so many years it is quite refreshing to have conversations like ours. Many years of what, you may ask? Years of solitude. I is been a hundred years since I've seen my master. It is not only that, but I do not want this letter to be too depressing. I will tell you more in person, someday.
I would like to learn more about you as well. To think of it, I really do not know much. Of course, you are not obliged to tell me everything, not everyone can afford to be completely honest and I understand that quite well. Whether you decide not to, this does not change anything—my offer to be of your assistance still remains available.
Please, there is absolutely no need to give me anything. And I will pretend that I did not see those few last sentences.
Gilbert
PS. Believe it or not, I am smiling now. That would mean you succeeded.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
interchained) wrote2016-03-03 07:19 pm
A letter.
Gilbert, the hopeless bishop:
I do hope you're keeping this to yourself. Not because I think you're a gossip, but because I would rather this stayed between us.
For this is not an apology. Not quite, because that would mean that I would be asking for your forgiveness. And I don't think you would want this.
But it is an acknowledgement for my behaviour.
There are times where I make you yelp like a puppy; there are times where there is true distress and panic in your eyes. And I can not help but enjoy seeing you express yourself. Hearing your voice crackle and squeak, your eyes widen, the little huffs that you make...
It's endearing. I like the look in your eyes when you take a stand against me, the way you look when you're flustered. Another would say that this was a love confession.
This is not. I merely enjoy the time that I spend with you. Though sometimes, I cause you more distress then you can handle. You are, to me, a nervous man. But...
I do not think I will ever see the man who is centred and focused, who could take my breath away like you did for that moment of conviction. I don't know if anyone will. But in a way, I wish it were possible.
I know that I can not make you smile either. Nor have I thanked you for the purse and the hat that you purchased for my sake. I would like to buy you a hat, but I do not know what style would suit you. Or perhaps I should get you cigarettes? Gloves?
I don't know if any of these things would make you smile, or laugh, but it would at least repay the small favor of times past. I meant to do it sooner.
You have no need to reply to this drivel if you do not wish to. Burn it even. Just try not to get ashes up your nose, Gilbert. I would have to snicker at your sneezes.
-Caren.
no subject
Maybe not just some time. But it's finally here.]
Caren,
I will never share the contents of that letter, as I am aware of the wrath I would bring upon myself. I suppose writing is much easier for me, I would not even dare to say such a thing, would I?
Honestly, I had no idea you were so concerned about your behavior. Or about my, well, nervousness. If I may...this is what I would call endearing. Moreover, I would like to assure you that despite my usual behavior (which, I admit, maybe a bit misleading), I do enjoy spending time with you. Do not hesitate to tell me I am a weird man after reading this, but after so many years it is quite refreshing to have conversations like ours. Many years of what, you may ask? Years of solitude. I is been a hundred years since I've seen my master. It is not only that, but I do not want this letter to be too depressing. I will tell you more in person, someday.
I would like to learn more about you as well. To think of it, I really do not know much. Of course, you are not obliged to tell me everything, not everyone can afford to be completely honest and I understand that quite well. Whether you decide not to, this does not change anything—my offer to be of your assistance still remains available.
Please, there is absolutely no need to give me anything. And I will pretend that I did not see those few last sentences.
Gilbert
PS. Believe it or not, I am smiling now. That would mean you succeeded.