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Clover,
We've known each other for enough time that I think I can be honest about a lot of things with you that I probably can't with other people. What I'm about to tell you is something that I've never really admitted to anyone, ever.
I'm not a smart man. Sure, I know how to plan how to kill a bloke. I can tell you some mathematic equations and I know a little about theoretical and applied physics here and there, but when it comes to thinking things through before acting I don't do anywhere near as much as I should.
I don't know what the fucking problem is. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's the people around me. Maybe it's nobody. Maybe it's just meant to be.
...with that in mind - something very fucking bad is about to happen. I'm in trouble. I should be alright, but, I've no way of knowing, I guess. If you're reading this it either means that I'm being very fucking slow or I'm very fucking dead.
Messed with the wrong bloke. As it always goes, I guess.
You've always been held close to my fucking heart, love. Right from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew we were gonna be something special. I don't want to lose you but I know that if I stall, you're going to be in danger, and there's absolutely no way I'm letting that happen.
If I don't come back, don't come looking.
I love ya, magpie.
- Hoxton