scribbly letter to Varric (which the postal service will forward to him at some point)
You stubby-legged, carpet-chested, crossbow-obsessed wimpy arse! Moving away, are you? Can't take the heat of a single wee hellmouth under part of California? You've no sense of adventure at all, laddie!
Honestly, though? I can't blame you for moving somewhere quieter, where you can get more of your writing done (smut or not) and settle down for good. Things can be a bit strange, but I like the adventure of not knowing what will happen next. I suppose it's a nice change from having my face shoved into fix-it or build-it work all of the time. And you know, not all aliens are invadery! Some of them aren't half bad at all, really.
The brewery was a lovely idea, but not necessary. Maybe later, when we're both older and I'm more lazy.
Best of luck to you and the lass, and someday we can meet at an east-coast comicon. Slap me via an e-mail and I'll meet you there!