People could grow up in curious ways... of course, he was no exception. It was a queer thing how one could actually mature. Or so he mulled over as he received an envelope, clearly holding a letter, addressed to him. If it was him ten years ago... the letter would not still be in his hands... probably nonexistent.
He held the envelope between two fingers, slowly drawing out the letter. He wondered why he bothered... curious perhaps? Even if he knew, on the top of his head, the few individuals that would actually write a letter. Nevertheless, the pale fingers unfolded the letter.
The writing was quite neat though... surprising? Maybe not. He never paid attention anyways. He huffed seeing the purple ink. Only one idiot would do it in such a color... about to rip the letter in shreds... blame his sharp grey eyes... reading fast.
I'm sure that you've probably burnt this letter
A smirk adorned his face and he decided to continue reading, just because the idiot had entertained him. His eyes skimmed over the last few sentences of the letter and the frilly signature of the mafia bosses before ripping the paper in two.
"I hate Italy" he smiled to no one in particular "Besides... I already have a drinking partner"
With that said, he held the letter to the candle and burned it. Flames dancing in the grey eyes of his as it turned to ashes. Dusting his hands, he watered the vase of Fennels sitting in his room.
