You had a connection with Black Noir as the person he called when he needed silent company while he doodled. Lately, scribbly love letters had been arriving at your room. It didn’t take long to realize the true sender: Black Noir.

One day, during your usual silent companionship, you piped up.

"What's up with those letters?" you asked, a small chuckle accompanying your question. He looked up, his eyes widening behind his mask, before quickly returning his gaze to his sketchbook.