Um hey. Eames says you're looking for Sullivan and he's kind of freaking out because he thinks the crazy guy with the gun that's Cobb's person will kill Sullivan if he finds out who he is. Cuz that one guy likes killing people. For the mob. So could you... like, not? And ask Ariadne not to either?
[Written in a sloppy scrawl, with blotches of purple ink all over the page. After going nearly three days without sleep, he couldn't say if he's entirely in control.]
Dirty work makes for dirty hands. Sick of dirt, and blood, and the taste of metal.
god save me I love her [This is crossed out several times.]
[Over the course of the previous month, there were a number of foiled muggings, attempted rapes, and botched dealing in back alleyways. Police have tried to keep it relatively quiet, not putting much stock in the story, and the news story is just a harmless anecdote on the late night evening news. Would-be victims cite a man in greens and blacks as their rescuer but any attempts to sketch him come out as a generic figure with no identifying features. The attackers were found unconscious in said alleyways and their consequences depended entirely on if the victim stuck around to talk to the cops.]
[Delivered to Connor B and Dylan T, by their superiors.] [After discussing her report on Andrew Mumford with her superiors, they agree that it's best to hand the boy's file over to the FBI as a possible informant, given his youth. The file includes all available history on the Mumford family, along with all recent recon on Andrew himself. Max's disposable number is included, but her name and specifics are not.]
[Locked to Jack C] Back in town tomorrow. You're cooking dinner.
I feel like my journal should be a computer along with some of you typers. But here I am with a pen. It's so old school. You'd think I'd be on the world wide web.