He did not look well at all. Kate asked him if there was anything wrong."No my treasure. I am just tired. A couple of nights sleep and I will be ready...for the fray again, don't you worry." His work was done for the next few days; Kate's work was just starting. She went through his pocket notebook deciphering the orders he had taken. She resorted to a map, as his spelling of the Irish place names was a bit hit and miss. Even then she had to check with him from time to time. The post contained. “Then, I can’t stop you, can I?” I replied. “Tell me if this is dirty enough,” Louise said, and then slowly, and pronouncing each word, she looked me in the eyes and said, “Fuck, my, cunt.” It was hard to believe she had said that, but she continued on and said, “Let me put it another way, Wayne. Fuck your sister’s cunt. Fuck it. Make your sister come, Wayne.” I hardly ever heard Louise swearing, either, so it was hard not to laugh at what she had said, and, naturally, I did start to. You have the soul of a woman; that's why you can be Kate and seem so real. How many men could do that?" I really don't know. Thinking like Kate isn't hard at all. The sharing, the closeness is just natural when I'm around you. I've always been a bit of a recluse, but the seeds were there. Funny how this all started with gardening; once you were there to nurture those seeds, they grew and flowered. But making Kate a real person to anyone but you isn't as easy. At first it was a lark, a silly. ” He quickly responded. “I have messaged him.” He continued. “ok cool. Ill tell him and you two can hash out the details while I eat and freshen up.” I said. I was told to wear something that can be cut off. Pack a change of clothes for after. So, I put on a skimpy halter dress that was reminiscent of the bandage dresses the Kardashians used to be known for wearing. Then we loaded the daytrip bag into the car and set off. (contents of the bag: Blanket, candles, flashlight, first aid.