“People don't really send letters anymore," he says to the rodent, ripping open the envelope. "Not unless they want to say something really-" James's eyebrows fly upward, the words dying in his throat as he unsheathes the shimmery card from its sleeve. I watch, paralyzed, as his eyes move across the page. He lifts his head sharply, scowling at the squirrel as he says- "Who the fuck is Sebastian? She's really getting married? The serial killer is getting married next week to some douchebag named Sebastian Alastair von Douchebag the Fourth? The hot ones are always taken." James mutters to the squirrel”