Warnings: Potential spoilers from seasons 1-3 of TWD and Jean Webster's "Daddy-Long-Legs". Rated for themes and language. All the highs of this story belong to Jean Webster and all the lows are mine.

Disclaimer: I do not own AMC's "The Walking Dead", Jean Webster's "Daddy-Long-Legs" or Marvel's "Avengers".

Special thanks to my lovely BETAs - doctorkaitlyn and undeadstoryteller - they are the best.

Dear Mr. Hawkeye

E-mails of Glenn Rhee to Mr. Hawkeye Smith

Dear Kind-and-Generous-yet-Slightly-Creepy-Benefactor,

It seems weird to be writing e-mails to somebody that I don't know. Moreover, it seems wrong of me to even consider the thought of accepting your generous offer. I mean, I don't have the faintest idea of who you are or even who you might be.

But, first thing first: thank you very much for bailing me out of jail the other day! Guess I have to justify myself. You already know that I got arrested for participation in street racing. Though I realize that such behavior is inexcusable (especially in the eyes of my conservative parents), I had no other choice. I'm neck deep in debts and will get expelled if I don't pay my college fees. And I have no one to seek help from since I'm not on speaking terms with my above mentioned conservative parents. The prize money for winning that race could have covered a huge part of my debts, if I wasn't stupid enough to get caught by the cops.

The lawyer you hired told me about the conditions of your offer. It's very kind and generous of you to bail me out of jail anonymously and it's even kinder for you to suggest that you will pay off my school loans in return for only weekly e-mails to you.

I have been thinking about you and your offer a great deal this whole week; having somebody take an interest in me, a simple pizza delivery boy, is kind of strange, if not to say a bit creepy. That is, I really have nothing to give you in return for your kindness, save my sincere and eternal gratitude. Which forces me to ask: what consequences might I have to face if I accept your offer? What secret agenda might you have? Maybe you're a rich estranged uncle of mine that I never knew I had. At least it's better than thinking that you might turn out to be some gangster who will eventually want to collect my organs in return for your favor, or that I've been chosen to be your project in some scientific research (thesis in sociology?). I can't help but wonder what is worse – death at the hands of a gangster, or a life of humiliation after that presumed work of yours is published (then again, who reads those?). I'd prefer to settle for the uncle theory. I've always been a glass-half-full kind of guy after all. Though I must admit that it is one very tempting proposition and it's not like I have a lot of other options to consider. Guess, I'll have to take my chances and all the risks that may come with it.

I have to confess that I did try to bribe your lawyer to get more information about you, though it's an impossible task to accomplish when all you've got is a hole in your pocket. Pathetic. The lawyer had a good laugh at my expense and warned me not to mess with you. Because, to quote him: "Mr. Smith has a keen eye and never misses his aim with that crossbow of his." Interesting! The oblivious bastard gave me one significant clue about you. I wonder how many people in Georgia own crossbows? Do you have to register one like you do with guns?

There was also another, I should say, rather disturbing detail he gave me. For some unexplainable reason the man was under impression that I was a refugee from China. Seriously?! Judging from his speech I've learned that you know a lot about me, yet you've somehow managed to miss the fact that I am a Korean-descent-third-generation-American from Michigan! It is kind of racist to consider all Asians to be Chinese, don't you think? (Alas, there went my "uncle theory"…)

So, concluding everything written above, there are just four things that I know (or think that I know) about you:

You are a man.

You have a crossbow.

You are rich.

You are a bit racist.

The lawyer referred to you as Mr. John Smith. Really? Why not Mr. John Doe or Mr. Nobody? Couldn't you be a little more creative? That name lacks personality. I refuse to call you that. Instead I'll give you another name. Let's think.

Suppose I might call you Dear Mr. Racist. Only that's rather insulting to both of us. Maybe Dear Mr. Creepy-Philanthropist or Dear Mr. Crazy-Rich-Guy? But that's kind of insulting to you. So that leaves us with only the crossbow. And since I'm a big fan of Marvel comics (yes, you can roll your eyes here, I'm what you may call a nerdy type of guy), I've decided to call you Dear Mr. Hawkeye. I hope you won't mind. It's rather flattering to you, because Hawkeye is one of the coolest comic book heroes out there. It will be a private pet name, we won't tell anybody. :)

In other words, if you still haven't changed your mind, I do accept your kind offer to pay off my study loan and in exchange, I will write you weekly e-mails describing the trivial events of my boring life (wonder what gain you might get from that). This is the first one and there will be more. But it's late now and I'm tired. True to my word, I'll write you later. Good night.

Yours most respectfully, Glenn Rhee.

P.S. Just in case if you are some gangster, please do not take my rant above too close to heart! I had no intention to offend you, by any means!

Again, yours most respectfully, Glenn Rhee.

A/N: Thank you for reading!