Chapter Text
The third knock was unmistakable.
Despite the late hour, someone was at the door asking for an audience. Tom had been in a deep sleep after a pleasant supper with an old friend the previous evening. He would have liked nothing more than to stay in the comfort of his warm bed. He had strong suspicions about who it was that was outside his home.
Irritated, he rose from bed and blinked the sleepy fog from his eyes. The clock on his nightstand read 2:17. His first alarm would go off in just four hours. The cup of sugary tea on a coaster had long since gone cold and would be replaced with coffee, diluted to palatability, in the morning.
The knock came again, three echoing raps on oak wood, and he walked toward the stairs, flicked on a light and passed down the hall. Tom lifted the deadbolt and turned the lock and was met with a sense of dread as his suspicions were confirmed. Who else would spend ten minutes pounding on his door in the wee hours of the morning for any reason whatsoever?
“I was sleeping.”
He barked at the figure on his porch silhouetted by a streetlight. The figure was slender. His willowy body vibrated, chilled by the brisk air of a rainy night. His unmistakable red coat glinted golden in the pale lamplight, saturated with dampness. Short triangular ears laid flat against his head.
“What do you want?”
A tentative smile crossed the face of the other man, who put a small pale hand on the door jamb, hoping to prolong the interaction long enough to win the favor of the other. He was pleasantly surprised that Tom has opened the door this late. Coming to this address was a last-ditch effort, certainly not his first choice.
“I want to talk to you.”
Tom had always been an early riser and a hard worker. It had been a few years since he’d last seen Tom, many more since he’d seen him in this compromised state, fur all askew, dressed in bedclothes. He looked a bit heavier, a bit more tired, a bit older.
“I’m not lending you any more money.”
Tom wanted to shut the door on Redd’s hand but he wouldn’t. As the chilly air touched his skin, he was struck with a pang of sympathy for the other, looking forlorn, cold, damp and without his usual bravado. Something was different.
“That isn’t why I’m here. Let me in.”