Tom and Barbie have exchanged letters regularly over the years, sometimes posting several times a month when the going gets rough (or smooth, or pretty much anytime, really). A range of unusual owls or seafaring birds perched on Mister Beck’s windowsill is a common sight, and today’s was no different. He looked a little worse for wear, and maybe a little annoyed at the wait, with feathers all disheveled and many disgruntled squawks until the recipient approached. Once the roll of parchment was removed from a rain-proof leather pouch, the bird nipped at the recipient incessantly until it was fed a snack. One satiated, the bird found a perch on a pile of clothing. It seemed to be waiting before its journey back West.

June 26, 1891

Barbs—

Thought you might like to know that I met a sea captain this week during my shift. He looked a little rough around the edges if you know what I mean. Arnold sent me his way with a drink on the house so we could get a good gander at the fellow, seeing as his smell and wild look started to scare off some of our regular guests. Turns out he was shipwrecked and just washed ashore, hadn’t a knut or a penny to his name. After some time I found that his whole crew died, so he looked happy to talk to just about any living soul. We talked for hours about his trek around the southern islands, far-flung places like Jamaica and Tortuga that never see fog or snow. It sounds nice, doesn’t it? He told me to stay out of the Bermuda Triangle, though, nothing but bad news over there.

Man was in tears by the end of it, couldn’t tell if it was the fire whiskey or raw emotion or both. At the end of the night he gave me this bird acquired in his travels, it’s a White Rumped Sandpiper called Ruffles and the only surviving member from the wreck besides Captain Bajorat. He asked if I might look after the bird, since it doesn’t like boats anymore. Captain says it’s a reliable messenger for overseas correspondence. I suppose with this letter, we’ll find out?

What’s news with you? How’s your mum? Have you helped Rhys crack a smile lately?

I might take longer to write you next, the Hotel is preparing for an onslaught that starts next week.  The rich Americans like to summer here starting with their Day of Independence from the motherland (you know they’re rich when they turn the name of the season into a verb). First wave started to settle in this week, and is it just me, or are girls getting prettier every year? Be a friend, can you report back to me on this trend regarding the ladies back home?

Your friend,
Tommy

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@Barnabas Beck genius reference

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   Hestia

July 3rd, 1891

Tommy,

That all sounds horribly traumatic! Although I am quite jealous that you get to meet such interesting people over there in America. The only people that typically seem to waltz into my office are jealous middle aged women with nothing better to do than toss their money away instead of just becoming more interesting. That's besides the point though because I think the real takeaway from all of this is that we should go boating around the world at some point, no? I think we’d both look rather strapping with tans and long sea blown hair! We could stop at ports along the way too and grab some of the more local tastes - food and ladies alike! You’d have to learn how to navigate though. You know I’ve never been good at that brainy stuff, and honestly I would probably steer us straight into that Bermuda Triangle or whatever without even trying.

Ruffles did a bang up job getting here even though he does look a bit worse for wear. He’s sitting atop a pile of clothes on my floor right now. Mort seems offended that he’s being offered up a place to rest. Not sure what's got his tail feathers in such a pinch. Maybe he’s been hanging around Rhys too much? Also, do you really think the walking mountain is going to be cracking smiles? It’s probably hard enough just talking with that stick that's so far up his arse that I’m still unsure how it isn’t choking him. The next time you’re in town we should pay off some harlot to go mess with him and see what kind of reactions a woman can get out of him. Could be a proper laugh if we can find a good vantage point to watch from.

My mums been good! She actually just asked about you the other day in our morning notes to each other. She’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re doing well when I write her again tomorrow. As far as work, it’s been the same song and dance for me lately. Cases have been picking up thankfully, which I assume is partly thanks to the latest batch of debutantes coming out. These poor lads can’t even glance at a cute girl without their wives assuming the worst of them. Makes me realize I’m smart to not want to get tied down to one.

And trust me, they are getting prettier by the year! One of the best perks of spying on philanderers is all the cute girls the husbands are being accused of sleeping around with. Does get a bit dicey though once the husband drops trou, but c’est la vie. Nothing will ever be as terrible as that elderly man from that one case you helped me out on right after we left Hogwarts. Do you remember? I still shutter a bit at the sight of pendulums.

If you’re going to be taking longer to write to me then you better be telling me about the girls you’re choosing to chat up all night instead of writing to your best mate of nearly 20 years! I want details! Or pictures if you can manage.

Your most dashing friend,
Barbs

  

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[Please feel free to punch, cut, maim, etc. Barbie at your leisure! Death is the only thing off the table. <3]

July 23rd, 1891

My dear Barbs,

You are right, it was traumatizing, though not nearly as traumatizing as the thought of pendulums you so tactlessly bring to mind while I sit enjoying my morning toast. In all honesty, I’d consider taking in stinky Captain Bajorat over the antics of entitled wealthy hags on most days. I would call you a saint for entertaining their causes, but we all know your mother deserves that distinction given all the trouble you’ve caused.  So you’re really just the son of a saint. I do miss your mother’s saintly biscuits.

Though I’m enamored by the thought of boating around the world, we will need to find a suitably wealthy sponsor for the endeavor. I already anticipated being the one who needs to navigate, don’t you worry. Though have you ever been on a boat at all? You ought to test your sea legs. On the journey over here, I stood on deck with a lovely Miss Parsay most mornings and felt rather encumbered by her need to endlessly vomit overboard. By our arrival, she was about half the size she once was. It is not for everyone.

I wish I could say that I am surprised to hear that Rhys is in poor condition. Should he not get his arse checked by qualified mediwizards one day? Surely one of your clients can refer you to a specialist? Otherwise, we will have no choice. I have heard that harlots are surprisingly successful at such delicate arse retrieval methods as well. It would be my pleasure to pitch in for this urgent matter. It really is devastating that his condition has now started to even affect dear Mort. Watch out, it seems contagious enough that you may be next.

I’ll also have you know that I have been legitimately busy sorting out all the business with guests. Arnold has gotten on with age since you saw him last. This has made him almost unbearably picky with matters of matching little flowers and umbrellas with the cravats and spangled banners.

In any case, you know your man can’t stay far from a sporting good time. The most gorgeous miss decided to spend most evenings with me at the bar these last few days. She’s got silky golden hair and eyes so big and blue you can swim in them. Here is a photo from the newspaper that recently featured her debut, you see here the lipstick kiss she left on it for me? This devilish little bird. She has a sassy American accent and a tinkling little laugh. I keep telling you, I think you would like the American girls. This one likes to drink gin and play cards. Did I mention she’s gorgeous? One small snag though, she’s a muggle. But in my humble experience, gin is the perfect remedy to make anyone more open-minded.

Don’t worry, it’s all in good fun. I’m done with falling in love.

Don't push it,
Tommy

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August 6th, 1891

To My Favorite Muggle Sniffer,

I don’t see why toast would ruin the experience. If anything, one can only hope that such a low swinging fruit would taste as amazing as some smeared toast! Bless the harlots that are nose diving into such a mess at the brothels if you ask me.

I haven’t been on a boat before but I imagine I would be amazing at it so I doubt we’d need to worry. Have you ever in your days of knowing me seen me just completely fail or fall short when trying something new? Also, your degree of luck towards things doesn’t count in this instance as I know the odds are ever in your favor with anything you even merely attempt to do. Compared to others though I would say I’m a step above the rest! Easily. Plus I bet I could sway some of my more... ‘lonely’ clients into sponsoring our journey should you be willing to undress and get tossed up in the affairs of the lonely hearted.

Wealthy hags of entitlement do come with amusing problems though so I can’t bash them too much. Keeps things interesting to some degree even if it's usually fears of promiscuity that drive their need for me. The odd jobs for drama fishing so they can use the information for social destruction are probably my favorites though, if not a frightening vision of the inner workings of the female mind. But alas, how else would I be able to afford all of the liquor I consume without them? Also, I haven’t the foggiest clue of what you’re speaking of. I am the best son one could ever hope for. I mean, can you imagine a world without me? Literally a walking saint over here for dealing with the woes of the pathetic.

Speaking of which, I’m not sure a mediwizard would be qualified to tackle the forest that probably resides in Rhys’ arse. However, I do enjoy the idea of this harlot debranching mission you speak of. Though perhaps not the knowledge that it would be a delicate procedure. I’m sure we could swindle them into being rougher for the proper amount of money. We should probably prioritize this mission to the utmost importance before Mort takes up prancing about like some adult prefect as well. Can you picture it? Beak up in the air like an absolute tosser with a little badge pinned to him? Picturing it now though I must say he might be the only one who could pull off quite a look. I've written myself a reminder to look into blacksmiths that can make owl sized twit attire.

I find it hard to believe your claims of hard work when you spin around and immediately start gushing about some blonde muggle. However, I will admit that she does sound like quite the lovely little minx while also managing to be enticing on the eyes. Plus a kiss on her own picture for you? Still the slyest dog around aren’t you my old chum!? I imagine by the time this reaches you she’ll have you wrapped around her little gin drinking fingers. I demand updates because we both know you can’t look past a pretty girl once she’s got you talking about her silky hair and big eyes. I have no doubt that I would enjoy American girls. But let's be honest, I enjoy most women that are willing to throw caution to the wind for a night to remember.

Also, you best have been speaking of my mum’s cooking skills when mentioning her biscuits! I'd hate to have to kick your freckled arse the next time we see each other.

Your most thoughtful friend,
Barbs

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   Thomas Harvey

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[Please feel free to punch, cut, maim, etc. Barbie at your leisure! Death is the only thing off the table. <3]