Encrypted email to Moira
Dec. 9th, 2004 10:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
To: (encrypted email)
From: (encrypted email)
Subject: I don't think I'm cut out for this...
Things are going just fine, don't get me wrong, but my nerves are none too steady at the moment. I don't think it's just because those damned psi-suppressants deliver a wallop every time I walk out of that casino, either. I'm just not used to sitting on the sidelines like this. Or following someone else's plan anymore... I mean, yeah, my skills as a strategist are nothing to write home about, but... argh. I don't know. I'm getting the burning need to hit something and there's nothing available. Except Haroun, and we need him relatively unbruised.
It's like I have the usual middle-of-the-job tension and nothing to do with it.
Anyway. Enough whining from me. I'm trying to imagine you curled up with your laptop on our bed, reading this. Maybe with Bella eating my pillow in spite. She hasn't been awful, has she? I have this sneaking suspicion she's been awful.
I suppose I ought to try and get some sleep. Plenty to do tomorrow. I'll be so glad to get out of here.
Love you,
Nate
From: (encrypted email)
Subject: I don't think I'm cut out for this...
Things are going just fine, don't get me wrong, but my nerves are none too steady at the moment. I don't think it's just because those damned psi-suppressants deliver a wallop every time I walk out of that casino, either. I'm just not used to sitting on the sidelines like this. Or following someone else's plan anymore... I mean, yeah, my skills as a strategist are nothing to write home about, but... argh. I don't know. I'm getting the burning need to hit something and there's nothing available. Except Haroun, and we need him relatively unbruised.
It's like I have the usual middle-of-the-job tension and nothing to do with it.
Anyway. Enough whining from me. I'm trying to imagine you curled up with your laptop on our bed, reading this. Maybe with Bella eating my pillow in spite. She hasn't been awful, has she? I have this sneaking suspicion she's been awful.
I suppose I ought to try and get some sleep. Plenty to do tomorrow. I'll be so glad to get out of here.
Love you,
Nate