A/N: I have always been a fan of epistolary style writing, particularly if it's modern day. So, I thought I'd give that style a go in fanfic, though I'm not sure it'll exactly work. Each chapter will be a letter/correspondence of some kind, and some chapters will include a description of a character-reaction/other story, and some will not. Let's see how this goes…


You're so beautiful that just looking at you up there inspired me to write an entire song on a napkin, and I'll have you know that napkins have very little give to ballpoint pens. But I'll bet you're worth it, this song. I'll show it to you if you agree to a date. With me.

Circle one:
YES NO

As Rayna was sliding her arms into the sleeves of her worn jean jacket, a waitress approached the edge of the stage, a small smile on her face. She handed Rayna a small square cocktail napkin, her arm reaching up over the edge of the stage. Rayna took the napkin from her and raised her eyebrows quizzically.

The waitress, Gina, turned over her shoulder. "It's from him." She said, a wide grin spreading over her face as she nodded her head to one of the only people left in the Bluebird this late after her set.

Rayna followed Gina's head nod, and her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the sender of this mysterious note. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and a worn brown leather jacket hung off the chair behind him. His brown hair flopped across his forehead, and Rayna tried in vain to recall ever seeing anyone who looked anywhere near good as he did. He was staring at her so intently that it unnerved her a bit, the way his gaze sank into her, finding its way right down into her stomach and nestling there.

Rayna dropped her eyes to the note, keenly aware of both the stranger and Gina watching her as she read the black text on the napkin. When she was finished, she didn't look at the stranger. Instead, she asked Gina for a pen and then turned her back to him, using a music stand as a makeshift table to write on the napkin.

"Here," Rayna said, handing the pen and the napkin, folded in half lengthwise back to Gina.

Gina nodded, and gave Rayna a small wink before she made her way across the café. When she arrived at the table, Gina handed the napkin back to the stranger, giving a final look to Rayna before she headed back behind the bar. Rayna watched him as he read it.

You're so beautiful that just looking at you up there inspired me to write an entire song on a napkin, and I'll have you know that napkins have very little give to ballpoint pens. But I'll bet you're worth it, this song. I'll show it to you if you agree to a date. With me.

Circle one:
YES NO
Maybe (very little give? napkins and I have that in common)

Rayna watched as he tilted his head back in laughter; Rayna couldn't help but think how sexy it looked on him, the way his eyes crinkled at their sides, the way the sound carried all the way up to the stage in the near-empty Bluebird. Rayna watched him as he took a long pull from his beer and then stood from the table. She watched him fold the napkin back up and slide it into his back pocket, and shrug his jacket on; instead of heading out the door so close to him, he headed straight for her.

Rayna tried not to panic, tried not to focus on the fact that she could feel her blood rushing through her veins, that she could hear it in her ears. He walked with a confidence she hadn't seen in many older men, let alone young men. It was fascinating, and she felt something shift in herself—she felt drawn to him somehow.

Before she knew it, he was at the base of the stage—Rayna was frozen in place, the intense look in his eyes cementing her feet to the stage. She was standing on the edge of the stage, but she felt suddenly on the edge of something else, something she couldn't name.

When he looked at her, he smiled, but there was something else behind it—something that pooled in her stomach and spread out from there.

He reached his hand out to her, and she took it, her slender hand slipping in to his. She felt his rough callouses against her smooth palm, and a fire started within her.

"Hi," He said, his thumb running over the back of her hand, smoothing the skin there, "I'm Deacon."