The problem with offering to write to his mother for assistance with countering the slanderous rumours spread by the horrible play is that Connor now has to write his mother. A daunting enough prospect on its own without the additional pressure he's placed himself under, but with the Ambassador's approval he can't not do it, now, much as he's regretting having spoken up at all. It's taken hours of work—hours of staring at blank parchment, unwilling to waste something so currently precious to any errors—but he's got... well, it's a serviceable letter, probably. Not an insult to his mother, at least, and straightforward in its request.
Connor sits back in his seat, rubbing his hands over his aching eyes. At the very least, it's a good first draft. Hopefully good enough to send immediately, but he's not about to do that without a second pair of eyes. Who else is left still in the diplomacy office, who can he ask to give it a read—
"Signore Levati," he holds the parchment out in Nicola's direction, still seated, "do you have a moment to look over this letter?"
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momijizukamori
backdated to playgate; action
Connor sits back in his seat, rubbing his hands over his aching eyes. At the very least, it's a good first draft. Hopefully good enough to send immediately, but he's not about to do that without a second pair of eyes. Who else is left still in the diplomacy office, who can he ask to give it a read—
"Signore Levati," he holds the parchment out in Nicola's direction, still seated, "do you have a moment to look over this letter?"