“Because I’m very popular,” Izzy answers deadpan without missing a beat.

The extremely flowery way in which his name is scrawled across the front is the clear and obvious hand of their most mutual cause of…let’s go with strife. Stede Bonnet.

Leaning against the dresser, Izzy opens and reads the letter, holding it back a bit so he can see. As he does, his face drops more and more and more, brow furrowing. It is not a good letter.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

It does not contain a single sentence to feel good about.

“Fuuuck,” he growls under his breath.