[Palamedes chooses to deliver his reply by hand, like a creep, although he spoils the fun of Sending Mail by walking it up to the door himself and knocking, to deliver it directly. The envelope is tidy and politely plain, and properly addressed despite him standing on the doorstep with it, and the letter within at a glance seems to have been written over the course of at least two different days—the pen color changes in the middle from black to blue, and the blue hand, while still Palamedes' tidy-adjacent scrawl, is tighter and more tense than the first half.

It begins:]

Dear Choso,

First: The paper smells lovely, like fruit, I think? And vanilla? I'm an appreciator of scents but not very knowledgeable about them, you'll have to tell me sometime. I like it, though.

Second: I'm sorry for not replying sooner, but things have been busy; I'm going to need to slough off a few projects before I unravel at the seams, but unfortunately that's ridiculously hard for me. Maybe I will unravel! You could spool me back together and then I could take a weekend off, or a month, who knows. Something like that. Just know that I've had your letter handy and I like to read it over again, when I'm thinking of unraveling. You, and it, are very sweet.

(I may have pined a little. Silly! I just saw you in Kelesis, but you know, it felt like the romantic thing to do.)

Once I've settled my too-many-projects, I'd love to meet both your brother and your garden. I miss you! I'll have to pine a little more.

I hope, since this has waited on my desk for me, that your housemates have learned to complain a little less. As for my household

[Here is where the pen and the apparent comfort level of the hand changes, with the unfinished sentence scratched out in the new color.]

Silver is doing well. He's repairing a ship and I've been spending some time there, you know, since my other soul likes to be wet. Saturn has "checked in" to Patho-Gen HQ for God knows what reason, I couldn't have talked her out of it even if she'd given me time to try. Apparently they have visiting hours, like a real hospital, so I've been lingering around while they keep her sedated and don't tell me anything. If they hurt her I'm going to do something reckless and probably insane, I think.

Lilias is gone, whatever "gone" means here, because no one knows, not really. I've learned that when someone you've imprinted with "goes away," it knocks your emotions around even worse than usual, so I still haven't sent this letter.

Again, sorry about that. I've been terrible company; besides sulking under Silver's ship, I've barely been out of the house.

Did you know it's been six months? Since we first arrived here. That shook me out of my own head, I think, so: here I am.

Yours,
Palamedes

P.S. Literally, depending on the time.

[—Whether Choso decides to read it while Palamedes loiters on his doorstep or not, Palamedes greets him with:]

Hi. I thought about getting one of those little mailman hats, but... [shrug!] Doesn't matter now. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I wanted to see you.