He’s not so sure if someone did this on purpose. Though, he’s already got a good grasp on who it is.

Hermes, like the wonderful god he is, does his job! And that job? Delivering messages. Most would think he does this by talking to gods, or goddesses, and getting the messages from them out loud. The mailing system is more refined in Olympus, now.

Mailboxes. Iris collects the women’s, and Hermes, the mens. He’s pretty sure these letters are from a goddess, though. A continuous string of 54 letters, addressed to him. They don’t use pronouns, but when they do in those letters, it was a single, ‘so I, a she—‘ in the middle of a sentence.

He was absolutely bewildered at the sheer amount of the letters, but more flabbergasted when he read them. Explicit thoughts, straight out of a diary entry. He thought he was hallucinating. When he showed the evidence to Iris, she swore the only one she missed was yours, due to you saying you had no messages to be delivered.

Naturally, he stormed his way over to you, demanding you explain them. “Hitomi! What the hell are these?!” He scolded, albeit with a flushed face. As many times as you tried to explain, he berated you on how, ‘this isn’t professional!’ or, ‘what is wrong with you?!’

Little does he know, this was all because of a petty prank he pulled on you—when he stole your cat. Another, little does he know, you did the same amount of letters for Iris, stashed in Aphrodites mailbox.