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2 August, 2023
It's been so long since he received a hand-written letter that its arrival almost made him suspicious at first. He'd stared uncomprehendingly at the little envelope, the child-like scrawl of his name and address, and the sender's name, thinking Who the hell is Gwendolyn Blake? before he'd finally realized and torn the envelope open with a mix of disbelief and feverish curiosity.
He'd read the letter three times, first shocked, then ashamed, then finally with an odd mix of amusement and regret. It was just so... sweet, down to the bit where she explains that she'd have to stab him again if he ever tried to stab her. He'd clutched the thin sheet of loose leaf, the sort of thing he'd normally associate with school work, tightly between his fingers for several long seconds, trying to think what to do and how to do it.
There hadn't really been much to ponder. Poor Gwen deserves to be set at ease, and the only thing that had been holding him back was the assumption he and John had more or less shared, that she wouldn't want anything to do with them. But now that she's made this clear of an overture, there is nothing to hold him back.
It had been too late in the day for it, so he excuses himself from work the next day, heading straight for the Children's Home. He still has the letter, folded neatly in his pocket. He's not sure why, exactly. He supposes he could show it to someone if there are questions about his intent to see one of the kids, though it's not the sort of letter that should be shown around, either. Maybe it's just for some kind of odd moral support.
The woman who greets him doesn't ask for any such evidence, anyway. She just asks his name and relationship (with some hesitation, Martin offers that he's a friend, for lack of a better option), and then has him wait while she goes to find Gwen herself.
So he waits, as patiently as he can. He doesn't really know what to expect. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe he should have written her back first, asked if this would be okay. That would have been a lot more considerate. Christ, she might be scared he's come to get her in trouble. Why is he always so impulsive?
But before he can even consider the possibility of finding another adult to mitigate any potential misunderstandings, the woman he'd sent returns, with Gwen alongside her.
"Gwen!" he blurts before she can say anything, and he offers a slightly strained smile, awkward, but hopefully reassuring. "I, erm... I got your letter."
It's been so long since he received a hand-written letter that its arrival almost made him suspicious at first. He'd stared uncomprehendingly at the little envelope, the child-like scrawl of his name and address, and the sender's name, thinking Who the hell is Gwendolyn Blake? before he'd finally realized and torn the envelope open with a mix of disbelief and feverish curiosity.
He'd read the letter three times, first shocked, then ashamed, then finally with an odd mix of amusement and regret. It was just so... sweet, down to the bit where she explains that she'd have to stab him again if he ever tried to stab her. He'd clutched the thin sheet of loose leaf, the sort of thing he'd normally associate with school work, tightly between his fingers for several long seconds, trying to think what to do and how to do it.
There hadn't really been much to ponder. Poor Gwen deserves to be set at ease, and the only thing that had been holding him back was the assumption he and John had more or less shared, that she wouldn't want anything to do with them. But now that she's made this clear of an overture, there is nothing to hold him back.
It had been too late in the day for it, so he excuses himself from work the next day, heading straight for the Children's Home. He still has the letter, folded neatly in his pocket. He's not sure why, exactly. He supposes he could show it to someone if there are questions about his intent to see one of the kids, though it's not the sort of letter that should be shown around, either. Maybe it's just for some kind of odd moral support.
The woman who greets him doesn't ask for any such evidence, anyway. She just asks his name and relationship (with some hesitation, Martin offers that he's a friend, for lack of a better option), and then has him wait while she goes to find Gwen herself.
So he waits, as patiently as he can. He doesn't really know what to expect. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe he should have written her back first, asked if this would be okay. That would have been a lot more considerate. Christ, she might be scared he's come to get her in trouble. Why is he always so impulsive?
But before he can even consider the possibility of finding another adult to mitigate any potential misunderstandings, the woman he'd sent returns, with Gwen alongside her.
"Gwen!" he blurts before she can say anything, and he offers a slightly strained smile, awkward, but hopefully reassuring. "I, erm... I got your letter."