Is this with a measure of scorn in which I write his to myself, a measure of disdain? Perhaps, perhaps not. What I do know for a fact is that in my situation a man is entitled to have a drink, and for the want of murder, I am.
Got back to Bree only a few days ago to run into the news I'm going to be a father. Evangelline doesn't seem thrilled, at all, that's for sure. Guess, shit happens? She seems distant, vague, reclusive, locking hers only in that infernal room of hers. What is there for me to do, really, I've told her what I think, how I feel about all this. Perhaps we're just handling it each in our own way. Don't know if we're even going to keep the child or not. Everytime I bring up the topic we never really come to a conclusion.
A child. I wonder if I should start crying of laughing. I knew something like this would happen sooner or later.
*A darken blotch of spilled whisky smudged the other dirt upon the crumpled, yellowed, parchment*
Well, as for the Dawn contract and the demon horse.... Taala almost murdered me. Got a decent right hook, that gall, she has. I've been frustrated these last few days; you just don't call the lass a bitch, and that's it I say. I entrusted Fercocar with instructions to Rohan and further details, and upon delivery to Bree I promised him the coin for the horse, though in all honesty, I doubt he'd show.
Shouldn't have shared the whisky, damnit.
