Dear Lucy,

Your gift...I'm amazed. They took a few hours before giving it to me-apparently making sure you didn't cut out an indentation to hide drugs or something along those lines. Slightly disappointed on the lack of cocaine (this is a joke, Lucy), but nevertheless, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes on hardback? I...thank you. I'm glad for the refresher on the Arthur Conan Doyle stories. It means a lot to me-the last time I had read them was during my childhood and that was a time I'd much rather forget. Nevertheless, your gift is highly appreciated. I will be reading this extensively while waiting for your next letter to come.

I won't say that I found our conversation on the phone displeasing. It really does serve enough to put a voice to your letters-even reading the one you delivered to me, I can still hear the lilt of your voice. It's...interesting. Your Yorkshire accent isn't necessarily overpowering in your voice, but it's enough to carry on your vocal mannerisms with your inclination to drop the 'h' sound in most of your words or use some slang without thinking. But because your latter life is in London, you don't do it to every single word. Luckily. If you had, I think I would have a difficult time truly understanding you. Probably would have cut that tongue of yours.

If we were on the phone at the time I first read your last letter, there would be several sighs coming from me. Why am I not surprised that you decided to make my desire for knowledge surrounding you a game? It's quite to your character, I will say that. I suppose it's only fair that I return the favor of the three facts that you apparently gave to me, which was interesting enough.

1) I was born on November 20th, 1982.

2) I don't know my biological parents and have no desire to learn any further.

3) I have one younger sister named Katrielle-also adopted by my father with her own detective agency, the last I heard.

I couldn't think of any interesting facts about myself. I apologize; I spent about twenty minutes thinking before giving up. My life isn't as interesting as it is truly chalked up to be-being the son of Hershel Layton doesn't really bode much in terms of an exciting life despite what it should be. Perhaps you may give me pointed questions about my life. If you get an answer to them is a different story.

I don't think little of you, Lucy. If anything, I think of you to be better than most people in my life. It's...refreshing. To coincide with your explanation about how my letters make your mail interesting, for me, your letters make the time that I pass here bearable. I don't say that lightly either. You also give me something to look forward to than murder. Thinking little of myself is normal-surely you must understand that by now.

Yes, Your Pen Pal,
Alfendi Layton

P.S. Are we really signing our letters with letter closings? I don't oppose, it's just surprising to see that you didn't just sign your name on the last letter like in the past.

P.P.S. I just came to the realization: you made sure we had a phone call so you could prove that you'd still speak to me after even talking to me through another medium besides writing letters. How clever of you, Baker.