letters penned by an ensign, mr. baker

“Welcome back to the world, Ensign Baker,” André gave him a little grin, not realizing the depth of his words. “You’ve been gone quite late. Just making sure you’re alright.” He studied Baker’s startled expression that didn’t quite match the distant look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

André lowered himself onto the shore beside Baker. “Quite eventful, but in the end, alright. I do worry about you, Everett. All this time surrounded by only crickets and the supernatural can’t be good for you.”

“Yes, I… may I confide something in you?” The man encased in a coat of crimson and many oddities enquired tentatively. “Don’t… tell anyone, John, not even a physician or a shrink or anyone else. I trust you, if you’re willing to listen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to. Not a shrink, especially. I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ve seen the same supernatural things.”

“They’re… starting to take their toll on me, to be truthful. I keep… imagining… envisioning? Conjuring up things in my mind, especially when I’m near the- the water. Which… somehow I can’t… stop visiting.” He admitted to André, his tall frame not withholding to how quietly he spoke. “I- I know, it’s… probably stress, but- but the only time I’ve experienced something similar is, well, when I was bleeding out. The first time I was alive.”

“Oh?” André looked at him with alarm. “I’ll venture to say that doesn’t seem like a good sign. Perhaps we should get you away from those unnatural beings. And the water too— why would you come by the water if this happens?”

“I- god, I hate saying this. I don’t want to make it more real! It feels so… so odd to admit, John, but sometimes the things I imagine aren’t… negative. Sometimes my head… uses the water… to say comforting things, and that’s the worst part.” Baker shoot his head; he wasn’t a fool, and he was self-aware enough to feel his growing need to hear those things. “I know it’s me who is saying those things in my head, but somehow, the water… it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me. It’s me in a different hat, thinking to myself, and the rational part of me goes quiet and listens, somehow.”

“So the water is sometimes good,” John said slowly, processing the rambling. “Maybe it’s you saying those things, but the water could just as well be responsible. When we speak with others it is our own lips speaking our own parts, but it wouldn’t be possible without the partner, would it? Could the water be helping you converse with yourself?”

“That… could be it,” Baker replied, musing on the idea, “Though it doesn’t explain my hearing and seeing things, does it?”

“Welcome back to the world, Ensign Baker,” André gave him a little grin, not realizing the depth of his words. “You’ve been gone quite late. Just making sure you’re alright.” He studied Baker’s startled expression that didn’t quite match the distant look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

André lowered himself onto the shore beside Baker. “Quite eventful, but in the end, alright. I do worry about you, Everett. All this time surrounded by only crickets and the supernatural can’t be good for you.”

“Yes, I… may I confide something in you?” The man encased in a coat of crimson and many oddities enquired tentatively. “Don’t… tell anyone, John, not even a physician or a shrink or anyone else. I trust you, if you’re willing to listen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to. Not a shrink, especially. I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ve seen the same supernatural things.”

“They’re… starting to take their toll on me, to be truthful. I keep… imagining… envisioning? Conjuring up things in my mind, especially when I’m near the- the water. Which… somehow I can’t… stop visiting.” He admitted to André, his tall frame not withholding to how quietly he spoke. “I- I know, it’s… probably stress, but- but the only time I’ve experienced something similar is, well, when I was bleeding out. The first time I was alive.”

“Oh?” André looked at him with alarm. “I’ll venture to say that doesn’t seem like a good sign. Perhaps we should get you away from those unnatural beings. And the water too— why would you come by the water if this happens?”

“I- god, I hate saying this. I don’t want to make it more real! It feels so… so odd to admit, John, but sometimes the things I imagine aren’t… negative. Sometimes my head… uses the water… to say comforting things, and that’s the worst part.” Baker shoot his head; he wasn’t a fool, and he was self-aware enough to feel his growing need to hear those things. “I know it’s me who is saying those things in my head, but somehow, the water… it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me. It’s me in a different hat, thinking to myself, and the rational part of me goes quiet and listens, somehow.”

“Welcome back to the world, Ensign Baker,” André gave him a little grin, not realizing the depth of his words. “You’ve been gone quite late. Just making sure you’re alright.” He studied Baker’s startled expression that didn’t quite match the distant look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

André lowered himself onto the shore beside Baker. “Quite eventful, but in the end, alright. I do worry about you, Everett. All this time surrounded by only crickets and the supernatural can’t be good for you.”

“Yes, I… may I confide something in you?” The man encased in a coat of crimson and many oddities enquired tentatively. “Don’t… tell anyone, John, not even a physician or a shrink or anyone else. I trust you, if you’re willing to listen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to. Not a shrink, especially. I don’t think you’re crazy. I’ve seen the same supernatural things.”

“They’re… starting to take their toll on me, to be truthful. I keep… imagining… envisioning? Conjuring up things in my mind, especially when I’m near the- the water. Which… somehow I can’t… stop visiting.” He admitted to André, his tall frame not withholding to how quietly he spoke. “I- I know, it’s… probably stress, but- but the only time I’ve experienced something similar is, well, when I was bleeding out. The first time I was alive.”

“Welcome back to the world, Ensign Baker,” André gave him a little grin, not realizing the depth of his words. “You’ve been gone quite late. Just making sure you’re alright.” He studied Baker’s startled expression that didn’t quite match the distant look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

André lowered himself onto the shore beside Baker. “Quite eventful, but in the end, alright. I do worry about you, Everett. All this time surrounded by only crickets and the supernatural can’t be good for you.”

“Yes, I… may I confide something in you?” The man encased in a coat of crimson and many oddities enquired tentatively. “Don’t… tell anyone, John, not even a physician or a shrink or anyone else. I trust you, if you’re willing to listen.”

“Welcome back to the world, Ensign Baker,” André gave him a little grin, not realizing the depth of his words. “You’ve been gone quite late. Just making sure you’re alright.” He studied Baker’s startled expression that didn’t quite match the distant look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Absolutely wonderful,” he laughed it off with a hint of sarcasm. “After much work, it seems I have caught Culper.”

“Would the names Abraham Woodhull and Benjamin Tallmadge as Culper Sr. and John Bolton ring a bell? A.W. seems awfully suspicious.” André leaned on the bar, watching Townsend’s reaction carefully. “We know of a whaleboatman with the alias Caleb Brewster, though we can’t seem to trace his real name.”

André smirked when he saw the flicker in Townsend’s expression. “You’re usually such a good liar, Mr. Culper Jr.! What’s the matter today?”

“A tavern full of British officers, huh? A perfect place to place the man on Long Island. It seems you’ll be hanged before the 27th of this month.”

“Do you expect me to keep this discovery secret? Mr. Townsend— or should I say Culper— I am already drafting a letter to Sir Clinton!”

“okay, I don’t care- whatever you want, I’ll get it.! I just-“ he lets out a quick sigh. “I don’t want to hang, Major. I’ll do anything, give anything, if you let me live.”

“No one wants to hang,” André seems almost amused. “What can you give me in return for your life then? Make it good. Do remember the lives of Abraham Woodhull, Benjamin Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster, and Miss 355 are on the line too.”

“Anything. anything! Whatever you want, I’ll get it! And if I can’t, I’ll find a way anyways.! Just- please… don’t hurt them, and don’t hurt me.”

“Let me think. What do I want? Do you perhaps have more information on these friends of yours?” André tapped absentmindedly on the rim of his glass, looking off into the distance with an air of smug satisfaction.

André makes a show of superiority as he blindly takes a sip from his now refilled mug. “Oh, I do love questioning deplorable spies. Will you tell me who the alias Caleb Brewster is for, then? And the identity of 355?”

“You have not heard of a 355?” André narrowed his eyes. “Do tell the truth, Robert. Lives are in the line. Withholding the name of one woman won’t save your ring…” he trailed off, taking another sip of his drink.

I was played for a fool. I still can’t believe I trusted him… except, I can. Of course it’d be me…

see im not the only one suspicious of you

Where did you two even get the idea I would be bold enough to hurt the man my king loves? I strongly dislike Washington, yes, but I’m not going to try to anything. You children want as much drama as possible all the time. I’m simply a man with two cats and a lot of papers in my desk.

Have these… fellows considered that since His Majesty seems to not want the majority of his kingdom know of his relations, that we’d quite like his wish to be fulfilled? It’s… straightforward, and I shan’t apologize for accusations without a base.

You look gross in your uniforms.

All the uniforms are kinda nice idk

They’re like walking targets. It’s not even funny.

So there’s one issue. There’s like one (1) field in every state. And usually it’s owned by someone. It makes it a tiny bit hard to engage in “traditional warfare”

Why do you care if it’s owned? You’re the military. You can do what you want. Make a field or something 😤 rather than taking blind jabs in the woods like a band of cowardly thieves.

You call us “thieves” yet your the one practically stealing property 🙄

It’s hardly stealing. It should fill a citizen with pride to lend their homes and farms to us protectors of the empire.

Pride doesn’t pay for food, Major.

But military honor is the highest form of honor! What else matters? They have our sincerest gratitudes.

Okay I’m just… simplygetting cast out of the conversation, now am I? Aha, I see — clearly, both walking in and being sent out of conversation is simply what I’m subject to. I see.

I didn’t mean to exclude you, Everett! Why don’t you help me and tell my blue-coated husband his side is going to lose?

You look gross in your uniforms.

All the uniforms are kinda nice idk

They’re like walking targets. It’s not even funny.

So there’s one issue. There’s like one (1) field in every state. And usually it’s owned by someone. It makes it a tiny bit hard to engage in “traditional warfare”

Why do you care if it’s owned? You’re the military. You can do what you want. Make a field or something 😤 rather than taking blind jabs in the woods like a band of cowardly thieves.

You call us “thieves” yet your the one practically stealing property 🙄

…hmph. 😒

The major literally threw me into being his adopted brother some-how. I reckon I’m allowed to say this, sir.

You look gross in your uniforms.

All the uniforms are kinda nice idk

They’re like walking targets. It’s not even funny.

So there’s one issue. There’s like one (1) field in every state. And usually it’s owned by someone. It makes it a tiny bit hard to engage in “traditional warfare”

Why do you care if it’s owned? You’re the military. You can do what you want. Make a field or something 😤 rather than taking blind jabs in the woods like a band of cowardly thieves.

You call us “thieves” yet your the one practically stealing property 🙄

It’s hardly stealing. It should fill a citizen with pride to lend their homes and farms to us protectors of the empire.

Pride doesn’t pay for food, Major.

But military honor is the highest form of honor! What else matters? They have our sincerest gratitudes.

Okay I’m just… simplygetting cast out of the conversation, now am I? Aha, I see — clearly, both walking in and being sent out of conversation is simply what I’m subject to. I see.

You look gross in your uniforms.

All the uniforms are kinda nice idk

They’re like walking targets. It’s not even funny.

So there’s one issue. There’s like one (1) field in every state. And usually it’s owned by someone. It makes it a tiny bit hard to engage in “traditional warfare”

Why do you care if it’s owned? You’re the military. You can do what you want. Make a field or something 😤 rather than taking blind jabs in the woods like a band of cowardly thieves.

You call us “thieves” yet your the one practically stealing property 🙄