“Burn them Joe, and thank you. It’s good to know I have you to trust this to.” The child-like man smiled, loving the attention from the motorbike gang boss who was the centre of his jet-set world. Standing Dix laid a hand on his shoulder, moving to stand by the window where the sight of the large man lighting the candle wouldn’t raise his Beast.
One by one letters, simple, handwritten letters, were fed to the candle then dropped into the metal bucket. Joe carefully laying each burning piece of paper into it and reading off the name of the next one – names of those important to Dix.
The two men leave the room together – last letters a thing for another night, another time.