Oh please, Professor, why can't we go with you and see all the Crowned Heads of Europe?

[jacktellslies]

My dearest friends,

I must beg your forgiveness, for I've been keeping secrets. For some time now, I've been plotting to convince my company to allow me to transfer to our London store. I've been terribly nervous, I admit. Either an acceptance or a rejection would imply its own set of problems, and, for a time, foolish creature that I am, I preferred to live in a world of idle fantasy, free of absolutes or concrete plans. Tonight I sent a letter of introduction, and received a reply a mere hour later.

I require: a work permit, a flat, and for someone to teach me to say, "What a dashing hat, you brilliant creature!" and, "Try a bit harder, love, buy me a drink first," in at least ten languages. If all goes as I'd like, I'll leave just after Tom and Erica ruin one another forever by getting married in July. (The work permit bit may actually pose a bit of a problem, but we'll see. Failing that, anyone over there care to get married?)

Eternally yours, you brilliant, wonderful things,
Jack

Comments

[transversecity.livejournal.com]

Ah! I did not mean to make you cry! I would have sung the Israeli national anthem, instead, only my French is poor.

[earlofgrey.livejournal.com]

Worry not; I never cry real tears, only pure imported cider.

[transversecity.livejournal.com]

What's disturbing is that this is far from the first time I've wanted to lick your face.