8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

The Story of Patrick O'Malley

A/N: Hey everyone! Please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters

Present Day: November 1899

Jaime's POV

Okay I can do this.

How am I supposed to ask a man who won't talk about his parents to tell me anything about them?

Easy.

So I ask, pause for a long amount of time (he hates silence) and get my answer.

If only it were that simple.

Spot Conlon is unpredictable in these kind of cases.

The only thing I can do is hope he'll open up.

Hopefully, this bag of cookies Medda gave me and me staying the night will do the trick.

I knocked on the bunkroom door.

Mac answered this time, thankfully.

Hopefully Skids is never planning on becoming a doorman.

"Hey Mac," I smiled.

"Hey Books. How are you's.

"Good. How about you's?"

"Fine, I'd suppose. Don't tell Spot I's told ya, but he's been so excited to see you's."

I blushed.

I stepped into the room with him.

"Hello Ace."

"Hiya Books. He's in his room."

I nodded and went over to the door.

I didn't even have to knock before the door opened.

"Princess," he smiled, pulling me into his room.

I sat down on his bed.

"Hello Sweetheart" I innocently smiled.

"I's hope that's not a permanent name."

"If you's wanna keep Princess then I's get Sweetheart."

"Fine," he dramatically groaned.

He sat down on the bed next to me.

"But that doesn't mean I'll like it," he grumbled.

"I's expected nothin' less," I chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"So what's with the cookies," he asked, pointing to the tin on my lap.

"Medda gave 'em to me."

"Is somethin' wrong with them?"

"We'll find out."

"So what's new in 'Hatten."

"Nothin' much, jus' that Blink and Mush finally got together."

"Finally! Remember how they were when we first met them."

"You's could cut the tension with a butter knife."

"You's alright?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Your eyebrows are down slightly and I can tell you're biting the inside of cheek, which you'd only do when you're afraid to say somethin'."

Damn. I thought I was hiding it so well.

Curse him and his stupid powers of observation.

"Uh," I responded.

"Books," he sternly said.