A corpseman, draped in tattered leathers affixed those smog laden eyes of his upon the missive, reading it aloud - A brief respite from overseeing the Ghoul miners as he ensured to commit a number of insults introduced to memory, surely with some intent to repeat them - perhaps to Irene herself. Within its fleshless digits did it ball up the missive, casting it at the skull of an adjacent undead who'd paused to listen. Forgotten, the missive laid there on the floor, and all within Tomb City was as it once was.