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It is almost midnight, folk playing in the background and smell of alcohol looms over the place like a stale cheese. She is wiping the sticky counter top with a damp table cloth. Then she hears the bell ringing. She switches off the radio and tosses the tablecloth into a bucket. Standing at the door, a voice replies with a posh British accent,“I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought you're still open but your sign...” He takes a look around the pub. All the chairs have been turn over put up on the table. Not knowing if she heard him, he assumes she did not. Before walking in he turns the door sign from open to closed. Then he walks in and takes a chair off the table. She walks around the counter and stands in front of his table. Before he could say and do anything, she brings a glass of gin and place it on the table in front of him. He is surprised without even telling her what he wants his order is brought to him. Turning over the chair and sitting down, “Thank you.” he replies to the back of her. She wears a light blue dress with a black apron, tied tightly with bow knot. Her light brown hair is tied up high on her head. “How do you know?” His question trails off. She reply him with a smile that hides a thousand secrets. She continues with her cleaning behind the counter. Watching her from his table as he takes sips of his gin. Thomas William Hiddleston, has been coming to this same bar for over 10 years. It has gotten lesser over the years ever since his life turned upside-down ever since his portrayal of Marvel Loki. His first visit was his 21st birthday. His friends decided to bring him here to celebrate. During that time, he just decided to pursue acting as a career and was going for casting jobs. Born with good-looks and the gift of gab, he soon land some parts in plays and acting on TV. The pub is called Dahlia for some odd reason. While they were merry making, he happens to caught an eye of a very sweet young girl. He recalls her being young because she looked sixteen. He was not sure if her youthful looks was a factor for she worked behind the counter of a pub full of grown men and young men like him. However, she carried herself well against the wily old foxes who tries to cheeky with her. He finds her strong character admirable. He wasn't into such strong-willed girls. He was into those witty charming and classy types. If she is intelligent enough to be into Shakespeare, she is prefect for him. Aah the joys of being the young man of 21 years old. It seems to be such a long time ago. A couple of raps on the table brings him out his memories, his eyes refocuses and find her standing in front of his table with a questioning look. “Oh nothing.” he smiles. She shrugs her shoulder and takes away his empty glass. He hears her washing the glass at the back of the pub. After that, she goes switching off the lights one by one. Taking his cue for him to leave, he stand up and replace the chair back onto the table. He waits for her, like a gentleman should. Moments later, she comes out from the back and goes around the pub gliding and twirling like a ballerina performing her routine for an audience of one. She twists and turns so effortlessly moving from one area to the next as though she has a checklist in her head. Once done, she goes behind the counter for the last time and takes out a small clutch from underneath the counter. Using her chin, she motions him to follow her. Obediently, he does. They both step out of the pub. She thought they would have gone their separate ways the moment they are out the door but there he is, standing patiently waiting for her to lock the door to the pub. She narrows her eyes at him unsure what his intention. “It's late. Let me walk you home. Please” He looks at her with his best impression of puppy eyes. He feels silly for a 38-year old man to be doing such things never-less one cannot fault a tried and tested way for getting things done especially if the receiving end is the female species. She purses her lips thoughtfully for a moment before nodding her head and leading him down the opposite way from his hotel. Since that night, Tom makes sure he comes in almost closing time, for the enjoyment of the quietness of the night and her silent company. He routinely takes his single gin and send her home right up the her doorstep. No word ever fall from her pink thin lips despite his best efforts to try to get her talking. This arrangement went on for a couple of months. Till one evening of his third month, when he hears a sad melody echoing against the walls of the pub. He thinks it is the radio he often hears when he arrives before it is switched off. The owner of the voice sounds sad compares to the one he usually hears. Quietly treading on the pubs wooden floor, he hears the its owner is behind the counter. “So you can talk?” He beams, walking over to her at the counter top. Whenever he comes in, she seems to be always wiping the counter top. She chuckles, pushing his gin into his hand, “Of course I can. What did ya think I couldn't?” “Well, I tried to get you talking. You never said a word. I thought you're” his eyes looks down into his glass which magically appears before him, “...deaf or mute?” he hopes he didn't sound rude. She tilts her head up howls out with laughter, “If I didn't have anything to say why would I? And if I'm...” she hand-signs for the word deaf, “I wouldn't be able to hear you coming in every night will ya?” He wipes a imaginary sweat off his forehead, “That's a relief.” He takes a sip of his gin, as he watches her tossing the tablecloth into the bucket and bring them around the back. Her head pops out the corner “Good for ya.” she replies then pops her head back into the corner. “ What was that song? It's just...it sounds so sad. Also it's doesn't sound like English.” he replies. “Oh it doesn't sound like your posh-like Queen's English you mean.” she scoffs coming out from the back. Crossing her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at him. Holding his both hand up in mock surrender, “Hey, I make peace not war, all right? Besides, you speak great English with a slight Scottish accent if my ear proves me right.” She relaxes, “Aye, I've some Scottish blood in me. Me da is Scottish. I grew up working along side with him since I twas a wee girl. Me mum is a Londoner. Don't ask how they met. I don't know.” she explains. He nods confirming his suspicion that she is the same youthful girl he met years ago. “That brings me to my next obvious question, can you sing the song for me, please?” he drains his glass. She takes it and goes around the back to wash it. She comes back moments later, wiping her wet hand on her apron, “You sure? It's a sad song ya know?” “Oh I don't mind. Are you all right to sing for me? It's not a heart broken song I hope. ” he braces himself for a scolding. Instead he met her with a sad longing eyes, “It's all right. It's already broken.”
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Closing and locking the pub door, Tom waits patiently while she makes sure it's lock up securely. When satisfied, she as usual takes the lead while Tom follows her from behind. A few steps later, realising he is a couple steps behind her she stops and waits for him to catch up. “For a tall bloke you're bloody slow walker.” she chides him. Standing beside her he chuckles, “Sorry. I only want to give you some space. Besides, tonight is many of firsts. You talking for a change.” Giving him an eye roll, she continues walking,“You're in luck. Tonight I'm in a chatty mood.” Clasping his hands behind his back, walking beside her, “Good, now have a few questions. Were you a dancer by any chance? Or a ballerina if I may be so bold.” She roars with laughter, “If I may be so bold?” she mimics him. “Are you always this polite?” she laughs again. Tom secretly thank god it's too dark to see him blushing. “All right, I'll indulge your curiosity. Yes, I was a dancer. Training to be a ballerina. Me ma and da saved every penny they earned to send me to RADA (Royal Academy of Dance).” “Wow, a RADA gal. Impressive.” Tom lets out a long whistle. He often wonders what is her story. “So how does, a RADA gal end up being a bar girl here?” She stops as they come to a stop at a traffic light crossing. They wait for the green man to appear. Tom looks across the road and checks for any oncoming vehicles. “Come on, it's too late for any cars. Let's just cross.” Tom impatiently tells her. He takes a step onto the road and hold out his hand. She frowns. “What's the matter?” he asks. He sees her turning her head slightly as though she hears something. “You better get back here Mister.” she tells him in a grave tone. “There's a car coming.” Tom turns his head left and right, he did not see any car. “I don't see any car.” “If you don't see it doesn't mean it ain't coming.” She chides him. “Come back up here.” she orders him. Tom shrugs his shoulders and concede with her request. The moment his foot steps back onto the pavement, he hears a car turning from the corner of the street and zooms past them. Tom eyes widen in shock. “Shit, if you didn't...” Tom didn't want to finish the sentence. Just then the green man appears and they cross the street. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you.” Tom says guilty. She reply him with a nod. After for about 10 minutes of silence, “Cause' I got into an accident.” she casually says. Catching him off guard, he didn't realise he had fallen behind her and takes 2 long strides to catch up, “I'm sorry. What?” he mumbles. “It's all right. I've put it behind me now.” she replies as-matter of a fact. He curses at himself for being slow. In another 5 minutes, they reach the front of her doorstep. As usual, she presses the doorbell and they wait for her housemate to open the door. A couple of minutes later, the door swings open and a red-haired Harriet appears, smiling. Without looking back at Tom she walks through the door, “Thank you for sending her home every night. I worry for her coming back so late alone.” Harriet tells him every night. Her purple hair plies on her head, smiles at him. Each night, he sees her in sleep shirt with different Disney characters. Tonight she is wearing a Little Mermaid sleep shirt. Tom can feel himself blushing for the second time tonight, “I don't mind at all.” he smiles sheepishly. Turning to face Tom, she smiles and reaches out to touch his arm, “Thank you.” she says softly and closes the door leaving Tom thinking, tonight is indeed his lucky night. She had touched him for the first time ever since they known each other. He leaves with a glowing chest bursting with happiness and excitement of seeing her again tomorrow night.
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“It's closed?” Tom stands in front of the locked door with the sign closed facing out of its window; mocking him. In the corner of the window, sign “The bar is closed till further notice.” Thinking back, he now realises why she had been in a chatty mood last night. “I've been played. Cheeky minx. Just when I found someone I like she disappears.” He really hoped to see her again and perhaps he could ask her out in the daytime. He lets out a long disappointed sigh, his heart deflated. His head turns towards her house direction. Suddenly it dawns on him, he could go to her place and ask if she is at home. If his luck has not run out, he might just get invited into their home. With a spring in his step and puff in his chest, marches on to the house where he sends her home each night. Reaching the green wooden door, takes a deep breath and gives it a few hard knocks. Stepping back to wait for a reasonable about of time for someone to open the door. He waits and waits and waits. No one come to open the door. So he goes up to the door and tries knocking again, this time slightly louder but not too loud that it may disturb her neighbours. He steps back. He waits and waits and waits. Taking this meant no one is at home, he wonders where did the ladies went and will the bar open again tomorrow night. ----------------------------------------------------- For almost 3 weeks now, every night Tom passes by the pub yet the pub door remains tightly shut. Now he is getting worried. He hopes she is all right. He really misses her company both her silent and chatty ways. While they were silent, although at first he finds it hard to be in a same space with her but as it turns out words need not be spoken for him to enjoy each other company. It is a bonus when words are said with meaning instead of silly small talk. “Tom! How are you?”Suzanne Walkers gives him a hug and kisses his cheeks. Suzanne Walkers is the director of a dog shelter called Adopt Me a Puppy. Ever since the pub is closed till further notice he has been depressed. Thus he decides to adopt a dog for companionship. “So what breed are you interested in?” Suzanne is almost as tall and thin as he is. She has bright hazel eyes, they dances when someone mentions they want to adopt a dog at her shelter. Walking beside him along their small doggie enclosure. Suzanne does not believe to put dogs in their cages, she wants their would-be owners to be able to see her dogs being lovely creatures they are out and about, playing and socialising with everyone; humans and other dogs alike. Tom eyes widen with excitement with all the different breeds like Fox Hound, English Bulldog, Welsh Terrier, Wheaten Terrier, Beagle and many more. His eyes wanders from dog to dog. He is surely spoiled for choice. As though reading his mind, “Can't make up your mind? How about you go into the enclosure and get to know some of them while I'll bring along our dog whisperer to help you choose, all right?” He hums his reply absent-mindedly as she had lost him at 'go into the enclosure' bit. She unhooks the metal gate and lets him in. Almost immediately Tom is surrounded by dogs; small, medium-sized, fluffy, and sloppy all at once. He believes his dog aka companion is somewhere in this rowdy yet happy group. He is going to take his time and introduce himself to each and everyone of them. It feels like heaven and never wants to leave. “Hey there boy.” Tom scratches a Beagle behind its ear. Sitting down cross-legged on a grass patch, Tom has been having fun for 15 minutes and he thinks he has found the One. A lemon and white Beagle. “Looks like you've made up your mind.” By the way, that's Cleo.” He turns around and sees a smiling Suzanne behind the knee-high metal gate. Standing up while carrying Cleo in his arms, “Oh yes! unless you have other dogs for me to take look?” he replies with a glint in his eyes. “As a matter, I do.” She turns around reaching out from behind her back out comes a young woman carrying small black Cocker Spaniel. “Hello.” the young woman chirps. “You're looking to adopt? How about this lovely one?” Her nose nudges onto top of its head. Tom jaw drops to the floor, in shock. “Tom, you look as though you've seen either a ghost or you've fallen in love this this little one.” Suzanne chuckles. Tom blinks, unable his mouth say the words shouting in his mind. The young woman turns her head to face Suzanne and whispers, “Is he all right?” she asks. “I've no idea. He looks pale.” Suzanne looks at him with curious eyes. After a minute or two, Tom manages to find his words or something sounding similar,“Where have you been? I've been going past the pub for almost 3 weeks now. Are you all right?” his words rushes out. He takes a couple of steps forward wanting to hug her but decides not . It would be seem to be over eager on his part. It's not like they are good friends or anything. Till that moment, the young woman has been smiling but now her smile faded. Not moving an inch despite him stand close, almost touching her. She frowns, softly she says, “Is that you?” “Don't you recognise me?” Tom feels the question is absurd. They have known each other for 3 months . Tom hears Suzanne clicks her inner cheek, “Of course she doesn't, you silly man. She's blind.” Turning his head, his eyes widen and his mouth forms the word O, “What?” he whispers to no one in particular. The young woman sniggers, “I didn't anything about being blind, ay?” Tom recovers from his shock and smiles, “Come to think of it, you did not.” The young woman takes a couple steps back and stretches out her arm, “Let me formally introduce myself, Dahlia Kelleher. Pub owner of The Dahlia and unofficially dog whisperer of this wonderful establishment.” Taking her hand and shaking it, “Thomas Hiddleston. You can call me Tom. Actor by trade and loves to drink gin.” They both laugh except Suzanne looking a like confused pigeon.
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Tom and Dahlia sit on a bench watching over the dogs in the enclosure, “So...” Dahlia tries to begin. “So...” Tom responds. To think it was only 3 weeks ago since he last saw her. He thought he could have said more. They giggle at each other awkwardness. Dahlia scratches the behind the ear of the black Cocker Spaniel. It yawns in appreciation. Taking a deep breath, “Don't ya want to know why I close the pub?” she asks, raising her eyebrow. “I do. If it's too personal, I'm all right not knowing.” Tom lies. He reaches to scratch the dog under its chin. It smiles, loving the attention. “I was notified by the hospital with a possible donor. Ya know for my eyes.” Tom nods. Dahlia is about to continue when sounds of barking and growling between a black and brown Dachshund and a Pitbull. A couple of the staff tries to pull those two apart, unsuccessfully. Dahlia shakes her head and purse her lips together, lets 2 sharp whistle. Immediately those two stop and the staff are able to separate them into 2 opposite sides of the enclosure; in a time-out. The cheerful yelping and barking returns to the enclosure. “Wow. That's amazing.” Tom stammers. “Those two are always at it.” Dahlia sighs. “Are you all right?” Tom asks, concerned. She nods, sadly. He is unsure if the dogs or the possible donor has made her sad but he does want to know, “You were saying the hospital called you with a possible donor?” “Yeah, when Harriet and I got to the hospital, the donor's family changed their mind.” she huffs. “Sorry to hear that.” Tom sighs feeling her disappointment. “It's all right. Shit happens.” She croaks, hugging the puppy. “Oh!” Suddenly she turns her body to face him, “You decided on one?” she beams. Tom chuckles at the 180 change on her demeanor, “I had decided on the Beagle but I'm open to suggestions.” Dahlia brings up the dog to the front of her face, “What about this lil fella?” she chirps. Tom gives her a big smile, not caring that she can't see it “If only you open the pub tonight.. It's been 3 weeks. I need my drink.” Rolling her eyes dramatically, “It's not the only pub around London. Oh all right, all right I open it for ya. Happy?” “Yes, very happy.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom takes the puppy from her. “Also in case you disappear on my again, I'll have...him?” “Oi! What ya mean ay?” she narrows her eyes at him in mock anger. “Ay, it's a male. I had a dog like him once a upon a time.” Dahlia moves her hand across the back, and gently scratch its back her fingers. “What was his name?” Tom gently rubs his nose on the top of its head. The puppy looks like its content sleeping in his arms without a care in the world. How he envies it. Dahlia turns her back to face the enclosure,“Bobbi. With an I.” she smiles. “I will name him Bobby then. With a Y.” Tom laughs. “How old is he?' Dahlia explains, “He's just a couple weeks old. The family only wanted one pup. His mama had four. They already gave his brother and sisters away. He came to us only last week. I guess you're lucky ay.” Tom glances up at her, “I feel I'm always lucky when you're around.” he can feel the flushing of blood to his cheeks. He can see her corners of her mouth twitching and decides if he can push it a little further, “So you can take care him for me while I'm not around?” Looking at her back and biting his lower lip in anticipation. Dahlia's body did a half turn, startles she asks “Why me?” Tom leans in and whispers into her ear, “Cause...” he stammers. “I really want to get to know you, better. And...” he clears his throat and rubs his neck nervously, “perhaps love is blind.” She tilts her head laughing, “Oh. My. God. I didn't know you're this cheesy!” she laughs again with her arms around her stomach. Tom let out his famous chuckle, trying to hide his embarrassment “Shit. Sorry. I...sorry.” “No, don't be.” She puts her hand on his upper arm, “It's been awhile since someone had been this cheesy for me. I'd be happy to take care of Bobby, with a Y while you're working.” she leans in to kiss him on the cheek. Both start to stand up, Dahlia's hand remains on his arm. Tom squeezes her hand gently silently thanking her. As they start to walk to the office to get the adoption papers done, feeling confident Tom asks “Let me thank you in advance, can I treat you dinner tonight?” Reaching the office, like a gentleman he is Tom opens the door and lets Dahila in first, “Sure. I never turn down a free meal. It's a date.” she winks at him.