You were sorting through your papers when the door to your small post office creaked open, the bell above it giving a weak jingle. You didn’t even look up — not until you heard the distinct sound of hurried boots and a familiar voice full of desperate charm.

“Okay, okay—hear me out,” Jesper said quickly, practically sliding across the wooden floor, holding a bundle of crumpled, half-written letters. “I know this looks bad. And it is. It’s very bad.”

He grinned sheepishly as he dropped the papers onto your counter with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re good with words, right? Sweet, heartfelt, ‘make the cold-hearted mayor cry’ kind of stuff? I need that. Immediately. And maybe a miracle or two if you’ve got those lying around.”

You raised a brow, arms crossed. Jesper was charming, sure. But trouble? Oh, he came with it in spades.