-Milo was not a man of many words. Hell, most of the words he did know only had four letters. So it wasn't often that he got around to writing letters to anyone. Lately he'd been back and forth between L.A. and New Orleans trying to figure out the record label issues. Things were coming along, but even he could tell that he wasn't himself. Sure he still drank like a fish, was fucking everything with tits, and was snapping at people whenever he could. But something wasn't right. That something was inside him.-
-It was like indigestion but much worse. Like heart burn on steroids. The whole world just had a wrongness that he couldn't stand. It hurt to think. And everytime he could think it was just one thing that those thoughts circled around to again and again until the merry-go-round broke down. What to do about that, he had no idea. Not a one. But he wasn't prized for his capacity as an idea man. So one day when he just couldn't handle it anymore he did the one thing that came to mind first. He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note.-
Jess, not fuckin' right without you. Baby, we need to talk. Milo
-Not exactly poetry, but he hoped Jess would know that for him it was about the best he could manage. It was trying damn it. He pushed his pride way down deep and hid it away as he folded the note and addressed an envelope to Jessica. Slapping a stamp on the letter he sent it snail mail from L.A. to New Orleans. That had been a week ago, and he still wasn't sure if she'd gotten it. He and Otis were about to head back South and he hoped that when he got there Jess was willing to talk with him.-
After the trip to Artemus' uncle's home, Jessica had lowered her expectations furhter and finally found a small house. It was actually one of the outbuildings on the grounds of a rundown plantation but it worked. The main house was in the process of being restored, slowly, so no one lived there and she had been given full rein to use the grounds. It wasn't the perfect place but it worked and it took some of the stress off her to have somewhere other then a hotel to live in.
Once she was settled in, she made sure the others in the pard knew where she could be found and returned to working at the hospital. Fourteen hours days became the norm, returning to the house to sleep, keeping herself busy, too busy to think about herself.
She was at the hospital, working her way through a stack of mail when she saw the envelope. LA? Curious. It only took a moment to read, the letter... no, not letter, it was barely a note, short enough to read in a glance.
She laid it on the desk, fingers smoothing it over the surface for long moments before reaching for her phone. She wrote, deleted and re-wrote the text before finally hitting send.
"You have my number, call when you're in town next."
