Dear Lyra,

Jack and I hung out nearly all day. He came back to the mansion around two-ish and we sat in his room and just talked.

His room was a pale grey in tone, nothing too special. His bed was hard as a rock though. He says he likes it that way.

Jack has a nice laugh. I made a few jokes to make him chuckle a little, it's like a harsh, throttle noise but I like it. It means he's happy.

He said he hasn't laughed that hard in a while, which made me smile. I got him to laugh and that was a good thing. I feel like I'm becoming Toby again. Not just in a Toby shell, but actually me.

It's nice. His reassuring words always manage to make me cry behind my goggles, through.

He is as kind as you. And that's saying a lot.

You're little nugget, Toby.