Dear Spirshash,
It comes as somewhat of a distressing, perhaps even alarming, surprise to me that you hold me in such a kind of regard as to induce an emotionally multivarious letter. That you have designs on my friends is well enough: what else would a busy, busy Orren with a wife and a husband at the moment do? Though where I fit into these designs is unclear to me: while I have a key to Havune's bedroom, or rather the front door of our apartment, I do not have a key to his heart, nor yet to any part of his body. Nor am I in the habit of sampling lovers before I provide them to him: 'tis an occupation more suited for a highly-trained and highly-paid professional, in a discipline which I do not study any more closely than the Flirtatious Dance class.
In any event, connections between us are simply those between fellow students in a course, nothing more. Anything else must be given time to ripen.
Havune giggled considerably when I showed him.
