... And his surprise was, still, glaringly obvious. "Are you looking for something?"
Dahlia's lips moved silently. After a moment, she managed a raspy, "I-I was ... looking for ... someone important to me."
Crane looked down to the photograph that Dahlia had forgotten was in her hands. Without hesitation, he took it from her and examined it as he finished, "Your pet?"
She nodded a few times and replied, "Yes, my friend. I haven't seen him since the other night."
After another look at the photo, he handed it back and said, "I'm sorry, Miss Rhodes. I don't recall this particular cat."
The disappointment of not finding Cat was on about equal footing with the nervousness she felt standing there. "Thank you anyway. Sorry for disturbing you, Professor." She turned to leave.
"Don't be silly." Crane laid a smile across his lips, and sidestepped the open doorway to clear a path. "Come in for a while, if you'd like. The rain is coming down quite hard and you must be freezing."
Jeez this was awkward.
Dahlia's brain couldn't get over this bizarre happenstance, and further yet being invited inside her teacher's private home. Was this actually happening? She couldn't do it, she was dying of anxiety. "No, that's okay, Professor-"
"Please, you're no bother." Crane finished.
A beat later and Dahlia said quietly, sacrificing her comfort as to not be rude, "Thank you. I won't be long though, I should probably get home some time soon."
"You're no bother, Miss Rhodes."
Once she entered, Crane took a half step out the front door to have a clear glance around outside. Then he shut and locked the door.
Certainly a fine home, Dahlia thought to herself. Very clean and tidy, contemporary with some classic elements. Lots of straight lines, warm neutral colors. No plants, no photos, just abstract paintings and tons and tons of books. Bookcases were the primary furniture selection in this house, lining every bare wall and stuffed full.
Sad to admit that Dahlia never had many friends growing up, and so wasn't used to seeing another person's private space. It was so much nicer than her own, she felt like she was looking at the spread of a home and garden magazine. She didn't think places like this were real. And somehow, it all made sense that this was how Crane chose it. She felt a tinge of jealousy.
Crane walked towards another room while Dahlia waited in the tiled entryway, to avoid soaking the carpet. She called, "You have a beautiful house."
A flapping sound suddenly caught her attention. Looking towards one of the windows on an adjacent wall, she spotted a tall wooden perch and ... a huge black bird?! A sizable crow was clutched to it, staring towards her with its wings spread. It gave several short and loud rhythmic caws, startling Dahlia to the point of drawing back in surprise.
When he reentered the room, Crane had a towel in his hands. He softly hushed the bird, and handed the towel to Dahlia as he said, "Thank you. Don't let Nightmare scare you. Her namesake is more frightening than she is."
The girl pressed the towel to her face first, not breaking her gaze to Nightmare. Then running it over her hair, Dahlia said, "It's okay, I'm not scared. Was just surprised."
Nodding, Crane offered with upright palms, "I can take your jacket, so you can dry off." She nodded and slipped it off, placing it into his hands. He went to hang it on a nearby coat rack.
Five minutes into her internal panic, Dahlia actually began to feel more at ease. She felt compelled to continue discussion.
"I never figured you to be the type to have a pet, Professor."
"I have a soft spot for birds." Motioning her towards the living room seating, he continued, "Nightmare is my partner in crime and confidant." Crane stood near the perch and affectionately stroked the crow's breast.
Dahlia quickly assessed her seating options and at that moment realized that Jonathan Crane didn't own a sofa. His living room seating was comprised only of armchairs and single seats. It was unremarkably strange to her. She chose the seat furthest from her host. First, neatly folding the towel over several times and placing that between her rump and the cushion, to avoid it getting wet. Curiously she let slip, "... isn't it illegal to keep a crow as a pet, since they're considered wild?"
Crane's eyes were still on Nightmare. "Only if you don't have a federal permit." They moved to Dahlia, accompanied with a nondescript smile. "Would you like something to drink? Hot tea maybe?" She nodded. He nodded and headed towards the rear of the house and into the kitchen.
Jonathan Crane. Your curiosity knows no bounds, and your willingness to take action is what separates you from the meek.
As he set his electric kettle to boil, Crane was pondering what to do with this particular development.
Dahlia Rhodes was in his house, behind a locked door.
She was vulnerable and defenseless.
Experienced, yet somewhat pure.
... But was he ready?
Without much debate, he tabled his unspoken idea for another day. It was too great of a risk presently.
After several minutes, Crane returned to the living room with two cups of hot steeping tea in hand. He set one on the coffee table in front of Dahlia, then took his seat in the armchair by Nightmare. He allowed a moment of silence to pass as he gently blew at and sipped from his own cup, peripherally observing Dahlia. She tried so hard to avoid eye contact with him, and had her legs crossed not for physical but for emotional comfort.
"Professor ... I'm sorry about the other day."
He arched a brow. Nothing he knew of Dahlia figured she'd be the one to fill a void of silence. Rather, she seemed the type to let it be. "Oh? What for?"
A beat, and then, "When you asked about my appearance, and I said nothing. I'm sorry. I just ... didn't know what to say. I guess I panicked?"
She was certainly timid, but perhaps not as immature as he figured.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Miss Rhodes. It wasn't my place to ask."
"No, it's okay." Dahlia went for the bait. Her eyes dropped to the floor. "In all honestly ... I had a really rough night the other day. Worse than my usual." She took a sip of her tea, and nodded approvingly.
"Suffering verbal abuse is inevitable for everyone, eventually." Crane placed his tea on a slim table by his armchair. "But physical violence is entirely unacceptable."
Clearly that wasn't what Dahlia was expecting to hear, as her eyes flicked upward. He immediately regretted the tone of his comment, as she interrupted, "I'm sorry, I don't need to get others involved in my personal business. I'll take care of it." Poor mouse, this was too direct for her.
And yet, Crane didn't have the patience to ease off just yet. His chin lowered slightly and he looked at her head on. "Was it Natalie Odell?"
Silence.
"She seems to have quite the grudge on you, for reasons unknown."
Dahlia stared into her tea. After a pause she added, "Some of the people at our school are just ... evil."
After a short bit, Dahlia decided it was time to head home.
Unexpectedly again, Crane had taken a spare umbrella from a hall closet and lent it to her. After helping her back into her damp coat, he said, "Avoid catching a cold. I expect to see you in class next week." She managed a smile and nodded.
The rain outside slowed down finally.
Dahlia added a soft, "Thank you." And headed back to the street and towards the bridge.
Crane stood outside his front door and gently closed it, ensuring that Dahlia at least made it down the street unscathed. As he watched through the rainfall, he took a seat on the wooden chair under his narrow porch, deep in contemplation.