Behmor,

I trust this letter finds you avoiding your duties with the same dedication and enthusiasm that you normally reserve for avoiding your duties.

I thought you would be pleased to hear that I recently arranged a romantic luncheon for the Immoless.

The modern male has become terribly lazy in matters of courtship. Flowers. Chocolates. Meaningless compliments. Such things lack imagination. I therefore elected to provide Allyra with an experience she would remember forever.

As a gentleman, I instructed her to wait outside the asylum doors so that I might escort her properly to lunch.

Unfortunately, after issuing these instructions, I found myself rather tired and elected to take a brief nap.

One hour.

Possibly two.

Time is difficult to measure when one has stopped all the clocks.

When I eventually reached the great hall I discovered Allyra waiting exactly where I had instructed her to wait. I was delighted by this display of obedience. She appeared somewhat damp, though I remain unable to determine why. Corax has a roof.

The meal itself was magnificent.

I had Chives prepare the finest table in the asylum. Fresh skulls. Candles. Silverware. The plaid cloth. The whole affair looked splendid.

Allyra, regrettably, looked less splendid.

She arrived soaked through, her makeup halfway to Irkalla, her hair hanging about her neck, and her dress so transparent that I was forced to reprimand her for appearing at a formal occasion in such a state.

For reasons I still struggle to understand, she blamed me.

Women, Behmor.

An eternal mystery.

Naturally I forgave her.

I even had Chives fetch her one of my kimonos.

This was a generous gesture on my part because Chives selected the ugliest one we own.

The luncheon proceeded wonderfully. I opened a bottle of Ashurrel 1383 and discovered that Allyra possesses the drinking habits of a dockworker. She consumed her wine, my wine, additional wine, and eventually an entire bottle. I attempted to address this worrying alcoholism by limiting her portions, but she remained committed to self-destruction.

At one point I presented her with several perfectly reasonable contracts.

Rather than signing them immediately, she attempted to read them.

I was horrified.

Can you imagine the administrative delays if everyone behaved this way?

The food was equally successful.

The starter consisted of diced tribute with blood gravy. Allyra appeared reluctant to appreciate the quality of the ingredients. I suspect she has become spoiled.

I attempted to demonstrate proper table manners by eating with my hands.

She watched me with an expression I can only describe as educational.

Feeling that the atmosphere required additional intimacy, I removed a little skin from my foot and enjoyed it with gravy.

This was not well received.

I cannot explain why.

You and I have attended banquets hosted by Theaten. Our standards are not unreasonable.

The main course went even better.

I trimmed my toenails at the table to save time and improve efficiency. Waste not, want not. Unfortunately several of them migrated into Allyra’s wine. Again she failed to appreciate the gesture.

Then came one of my favourite moments.

I vomited blood.

Quite unexpectedly.

The expression on her face was extraordinary.

You would have loved it.

In fact, I was so touched by her reaction that I moved closer and vomited blood on her directly.

Chives later informed me that this may not be considered traditional courtship.

I maintain that Chives is wrong.

The old fool lacks vision.

The situation improved further when the serum finally took effect and Allyra lost consciousness face-first into the table. This gave me an opportunity to investigate her bag, wherein I placed several chains before waking her again.

A short while later she discovered the chains, became convinced she had stolen them while intoxicated, apologised repeatedly, and returned them to me.

It was one of the most successful therapeutic interventions of my career.

I was particularly pleased by the outcome because I did not have to forge any paperwork whatsoever.

The best part of the entire luncheon, however, was the ending.

After all the complaints, accusations, shouting, wine consumption, vomiting, foot maintenance, contractual disputes, and alleged theft, Allyra ended the afternoon apologising to me.

I consider this an overwhelming victory.

Naturally I forgave her.

I then carried her upstairs, washed her, settled her into bed, arranged guards, instructed Webster, Demize, Chives, two Nicolai, a spy, and a henchman to keep watch over her, and ensured she would not be disturbed before Theaten’s arrival.

You see, Behmor, this is what people fail to understand.

I am not merely romantic.

I am thoughtful.

Your loving father,

Nicolas DeSilva

Master of Corax Asylum

Psychiatrist

Philanthropist

Victim of Ingratitude

Champion of Fine Dining

Dad