Stalwart. The salutation stirs up an odd little ember in Gaeta's chest; he reads those three words over and over, for several minutes, before he can move on to the rest of the letter. When he reaches the end, he smiles, small and pained.

It's instinctual for him to think you don't owe me anything -- to duck his head and try not to be a burden. Yet he also knows if he were in Mulcahy's place, he would want to repay a kindness, too. Especially a kindness of this perceived magnitude.

And, less charitably, under all his concern for a friend... he's curious. He won't deny it.

Gaeta picks up his sending stone.

"Hi, Father? It's Felix Gaeta. I, ah, got your letter."