Dear Master Lothared,

I am sorry about the incident this morning in the tavern. Frankly, when you came flying down the stairs, a veritable whirl of pink and red, well...

Well, um, I thought you were on fire. I am sorry that my efforts to put you out with my spatula caused such bruises, but it was your exposed ruddy thighs that seemed to require the most immediate attention. And I know it must have hurt badly, but please do not jump into the tavern well again, even to cool a sting like that. As it is, I will be lugging water up the hill from the marketplace for the foreseeable future.

Humbly yours,
Amideh