“I may not be your first, but to be your last would be perfect.”

[Caravan]

I swear, I'm not drunk, I'm just intoxicated by y---

Baby, if you were a contract, you'd be what they call FINE PRINT--

Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the mon---

Caravan scowled at the ink on the parchment. Even the letters looked awkward, lying as they did in her rough handwriting. The phrases sounded so much better in her head, a little less stellar when she said them outloud, but here -- stale and sprawled -- they sounded just plain stupid. She wasn't a lovesick, moon-brained calf. She was Caravan Fairwinds, the Most Interesting Gnome in the World. This goblin was lucky she was writing her a letter. Ha! Yeah. Lucky.

"Jus' act natural. Ya wanna be a ninnywiggin or ya wanna be a woman?"

After ten minutes of pacing, an entire flask of her specially-concocted moonshine, and a few crumpled 'bodies' of parchment, she finally sat down and wrote:

Hey, this is crazy
and I just met you.
But here's my address --
so write me, maybe?

-- Caravan Fairwinds

[Cressy]

She was always used to fan letters.

"Cressy, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind."

"Last night was amazing...Find me again.."

"You slept with my husband you wh-"

This one was different. It was neither threatening, nor about anything dealing with sex. It caused the goblin to stir in her seat, watching the paper, waiting for a sign. After a few moments, she took the plunge.

"Catchy words, my dear Caravan.

But what is it that you seek from me?

Fame?

Fortune?

Intercourse?

[Caravan]

Fame, I got.
Money? I can get.
Intercourse -- I got that, too.

Ink pooled at the full-stop as she hesitated. Stop judging me, quill, you're not even a real bird! The quill, of course, said nothing. Had it retained its telepathic powers, the quill may have been offended by the reminder that it had once soared high above the oceans but, as it was less aware, it wasn't. The gnome's hand was warm and pinched the thin quill as if it were personally responsible for her uncertainty.

You and me is going to go on a date, sugar. Where a hat, somethang nice, and be hungry. I'll pick you up on Monday, on the docks of Booty Bay, at 7pm. Be there or I'll fine you.

-Caravan Fairwinds

P.S. Hope your not afraid of turtles.

[Cressy]

The goblin female was busy checking over her newly acquired inventory when the new letter come to her attention. She stared at it blankly, raising her eyebrow.

How...I.

What?

She stood their confused, staring at the paper for what seemed like a fraction of an hour before finally writing a response.

"Make it ten and it is a deal.

[Caravan]

Cressy,

I reckon its safe to say we both suck at dating. Dinner was a bad choice --- how was I sposed to know youd be sick from that stew? Least you couldnt get any greener. Your a good green. Its a compliment.

Heres a bottle of pure, unadulterated moonshine to apollygise. Next time, lets go hunt a lion or rig a casino game or sometheng.

- Caravan Fairwinds

p.s. or whatever - you look right pretty when you look
like you done gonna shank someun in your awction.

[Cressy]

Caravan,

Oh, how it was not your fault..

But to compensate for the terrible meal, the chef was quite willing to part with a kidney.

How about we get together soon, possibly at one of my auctions?

A date at an auction sounds romantic, yes?

The goblin popped the lid of the moonshine, taking a long, hard gulp of it.

Delicious. I think I am in love.