*Nathaniel stumbles down the street, smelling of alcohol and covered in the latest batch of bruises from a fistfight. He glances at a poster on the wall advertising the Gentlemen's Society.*
"Hmmm… perhaps it is time to return to my old life…"
*He looks down at his scarred, calloused hands. They were his weapons, his tools, his life. Could he leave behind the pain and sorrow of his past? He did not know, but he was damn well going to try! Nathaniel proceeds to steal some high-quality ink and parchment from an unguarded stall, then sits at a public bench to write a poem in surprisingly good handwriting.*
The Letter
*Nathaniel wipes some stray tears from his eyes as he finishes the poem, a few dropping onto the bottom of the page.*
"Urgh… I'm going to need some new clothes…" *He mutters, looking down at his open leather jacket and tight-fitting stained pants, the only items of clothing he owns.*
*He pins the letter to the poster, then saunters off to find appropriate clothing.*