Final Ticket

eight

"Bloody fuckin' hell."

Solomon didn't mean to swear in front of the girl like that, even if he had done such in text before; but it was too late now. He felt his utterance was justified anyway; because as he scanned the kitchen of his flat, tiny brown paw prints were visible in a small trail from the entrance, curling around to the guest bedroom. Almost instinctually, he glanced down next to his couch and found and a dog crate and a piece of notebook paper laid on top.

Solomon,

Here's Porgi. I'll pick him up tomorrow. Thanks again!

Paul

He was trying his damnedest not to look furious in front of Maddie, but he was losing control quickly. Crumpling up the note, he scanned his apartment; the furniture was in one piece, good. The trash bin had some papers on the floor instead of placed neatly inside, that's easy to clean...

He sucked in his breath and turned around on his heel to face his guest. "Shall I show you to your room?" He must've startled her because when he spoke, her head darted from the direction of the guest bedroom to him.

"Oh, alright," came her soft reply. Now that they were alone, he could concentrate and take more of her in. She was petit, darker skinned. Korean? Cambodian? She was dressed almost like a secretary; a suit coat, white collared shirt and a teal skirt. He wondered if she always dressed this way, or if it was just for impression? It did look cute though. Heck, she looked cute...

His eyes scanned the hall as they walked together, making sure Porgi hadn't destroyed anything too bad in his flat. Everything looked fine...

But then he saw the guest room.

The pure white spread he had laid on the daybed was askew, and soiled, dirty with more brown paw prints which he prayed were mud and not what else it could've been. Porgi, the annoying corgi, laid on top of the quilt, curled up in a tight ball.

"Aw, is the dog yours?" Maddie asked, her voice soft and sweet as she dropped to her knees and flicked at his big ears.

"No." His eyes pointed upward, where he saw Moxie on top of his bookcase. She seemed to be resting peacefully, thank god. He didn't need Paul complaining that his precious dog was injured. "The cat is, her name is Moxie. The dog is Porgi and he belongs to the git known as my brother."

What the hell kind of name was Porgi anyway? Knowing his brother, it was the name of some obscure tween poptart singer that he had found on YouTube.

As Maddie touched one of his paws, Porgi nipped, and bit apparently, and yipped before trotting off as quick as he could on the nubs he had.

"Porgi, geez," Solomon said softly, exasperatedly sighing as his eyes followed the dog until he went around the corner and was out of sight. Turning back, he saw Maddie had pulled the cover off her bed already and was inspecting it, trying to see how bad the stains were. "Don't worry with it, I'll get you another quilt and I'll wash this one."

"It's fine, I'll m--"

"No." The sternness in his voice surprised himself but she didn't seem flustered. "I won't let you use something soiled." She nodded and left the blanket to sit; and from there, Solomon led her on a tour of his flat, welcoming her to anything that she wished for or needed.

Halfway through their tour, his head began to throb hard. He found both of his hands wandering to the temples and rubbing slowly. Was this what he was doomed to experience through this whole ordeal? But, wasn't it supposed to be constant? This pain could be likened to the migraines he had starting age age fifteen, and had only been a few times since his diagnosis. Who was he to question this though? He wasn't a doctor.

When he caught Maddie looking at the certificates on the pale blue wall above his desk, he sucked in his breath. She was officially the first person outside of his family to know his job.

He was a freelance writer.

"Is Philip Humphries a pen name?" Maddie asked, turning to face him. He had seen that her eyes for some reason even more lively than before. Too in pain to speak, he opted for nodding instead. "Hey, are you alright?"

He closed his eyes right as she approached, flinching when she felt her fingers on his shoulder blade. "You're a little pale..."

"It's just a headache," he grumbled, trying to move her hand away. His heart had sped up when he felt her touch, and as nice as her touch felt, it was weird and awkward and he wanted to wiggle away. "Nothing extraordinary. Do you have anything in mind for dinner?" Maybe changing the subject so swiftly would combat any further questions.

"Oh not in particular," she said, still trying to push him to the couch. Finally he gave in, sucking in his breath again as he realised that she was the first female who wasn't in his family to touch him in months. Maybe almost a year. "I don't want to change your menu to suit me so make whatever you normally would."

"I'm vegetarian," he murmured in response, "so you would be the one changing if that's fine."

"Oh, it is, don't worry."

"I'll still treat you to a proper meal of fish and chips though. You can't come to the U.K. and not indulge in that." She giggled, and he smiled. He had heard that giggle in Skype calls before with their group, and for some reason it made his heart flutter. So soft and sweet and innocent...

"That sounds really great, Num...er, sorry, Solomon."

The two looked each other in the eye for quite some time. In the movies, now was the time for a kiss. But in Solomon's home, it was time for the crashing of at least twenty large, heavy books, yowls from Moxie and high-strung barks from Porgi.

"Damn it all to hell," was all that left his lips as he jumped up from the couch to run into his bedroom. He could use a strong drink right now, but he had promised himself that no alcohol would pass his lips while she was here.

As he swung the door of his room open fully, he felt his body shake a little as he took the sight in. His books were spread from here to kingdom come, Moxie on her toes hissing while Porgi took care of his business in the corner.

Now Solomon was hissing, plucking the dog up as soon as he lowered his leg and placing him in Maddie's arms as he walked by, making a B-line for the phone.

"Take the mongrel, I'm calling Paul."

He could sense confusion, but he would explain later. Right now the goal was Paul Gauge getting his son of a bitch dog out of his home.