But no. His love could not be expressed properly with such crude words and

clumsy

actions, lest his intentions be suspect. Reluctantly, he sat back down on

his cot. His feelings

for Nabiki Tendo could not even be entrusted to the words of his beloved

Shakespeare. There was

but one pen he could trust to properly express the depths of his love.
He would maintain his charade, act cool and disinterested and uncaring. At

least, he

thought as he pulled a well-worn piece of folded paper from his pocket and

reached once more for

his pen, until he had finished the poem.

*Standing ovation* Cherrio, this was a bloody good piece of work. You should
really make a sequal to it.

Psycho Sam, the man with the bad British accent.