Sweat was dripping from the boy's face by the time he'd reached the Owlery. He literally ran all the way from the lower depths of the castle to the tower carrying a quill, ink and parchment in his still small fists and he deemed the matter so urgent that he skidded to a halt, his trainers making a squeaky sound right before one of the writing desks-devil care who might've been using it at the time. He spread out the parchment, somewhat getting the crumpled bits from where he was grabbing it out, shakily opened the ink bottle and dipped his quill in and went to town.
And here, Cutty had stopped to take a breath and re-dip his quill into the ink bottle.
Quick like a mamba, he whipped the parchment out in the air to dry it, rolled it up and sent it on it's way before leaving the Owlery himself. Alright. Now all he had to do was get really good at flying on his new broom, really freakin' fast.