((Gilhooly doesn’t keep a journal per se, more like muttering to himself as he hops from roof to roof))
Right sad day must be fer me best mate Lo…. tho Pip was right sour a good portion o’ time to Lo as well, even tried ta beat ‘er an’ p’raps off ‘er once or twice…
Mister U seems ta be takin’ it right ‘ard tho….. guess everyone’s cared about by someone, eh?
((Gilhooly locates an old fruit crate and carefully wraps something up in it, then takes it to the post to be delivered to:
care of Mara Razor
Inside under some hastily-thrown in hay and newsprint are some paper flowers, made of cast off bits of all sorts of different paper, the edges carefully torn and re-torn and folded and re-folded painstakingly by hand, into a bouquet of many-colored handmade delicately-folded flowers.
Along with the bouquet is a note written in a very sloppy hand:
fanks fer song
sorry bout pip