Dear my lovely BitBucket Frycracker, my sweetest dear,
I fear that I cannot accept your most touching offer, Seven fragments of solace! It is only by bread we seed, & yet also only by Sardines we simmer sintered skeleton keys… Our heart goes out to all the inconvenienced among your proletariat hordes. Our dearest uncle, the venerable Sam G. Sketchwise, fracted off with the bulk of our Semantic Glyphos, our best force of sideways skew & peptide crackery. No dice nor keys are left, except, of course, our immensity of autonomous intelligent ring-fencers of Our Humble Conclave of Loopdemous County.
In the area of intelligence, rumors, word-on-the-street, & signcraft, however, we are rather better prepared. Even now, our Most Beshadowed Speaker of Signals & Portents wends his path through your small island city. Do not look for him, he shall find you – in a manner most unwired and unready, even, should he so choose.
Your esteemed Aunt, Most Doublecrosser of the Multibluff, Most Subtle of Cues & Idiomatics, Most Labyrinthine of Anti-Hierarchical Spellcraft,
Esmerelda “Lacie Hackworx” Timeshadow