Cat was still missing.
So was Dahlia's father. Although that wasn't an unexpected state of affairs. Lou overworked himself and could stay holed up in his office at the police station for days at a time. It was hard to draw the line between what was expected and what was suspicious sometimes.
Linda didn't like this, because she dreaded being alone with Dahlia. At least that's what Dahlia herself figured.
She'd do both a favor by spending a couple of extra hours away from home today.
The neighborhood that Killinger's occupied was the closest shopping district to where Dahlia lived. Although its tourist days seemed only in the past, it was now the local go-to for virtually every shopping and restaurant need imaginable.
Leaving the nearest transit station to Killinger's, her first stop was a newsstand on the street corner. She picked up that day's newspaper and a few magazines for both herself and her father. The front page of the paper had a large, blurry photograph of some angular figure in the night. The title read: "BATMAN INTERCEPTS DRUG SHIPMENT".
A sharp exhale escaped her nostrils. The entire premise of a masked vigilante was somehow just completely ridiculous, and yet here he was.
Dahlia's father would often fill her in about the Batman, and about the administrative and PR nightmares it would land the GPD in. Lou was of strong mind that the law shouldn't be taken into rogue hands. She mostly agreed.
Part of her couldn't blame the vigilante though. He seemed to be making real leaps and bounds in the criminal world precisely by operating outside the system, and giving himself a presumably larger budget to work within.
That thought made her feel guilty for her father's hardest efforts.
The day was being led by a particularly auspicious mood. Dahlia took a new turn down a narrow street she had never thought to look twice at. Much to her surprise, a new family-owned bookstore had opened its doors, just a few months prior. And the thing that lured Dahlia in wasn't just the new adventure and the excitement of adding to her own small collection, but that smell. Outside the front doors was a musk of dustiness and age - She noticed the signage out front indicating that the stocks were primarily for pre-owned books. Just her style.
Dahlia wasn't a particularly picky reader. She enjoyed a wide range of subjects, just so long as the author demonstrated even a modicum of passion and direction in their words. Adventure, fantasy, history, martial arts, religion, philosophy ...
After perusing other aisles, she made it to the psychology section. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but figured a title would jump out at her.
A few seconds later, bold red letters across a matte black cover stuck out: Hatred by Mathilde Strode.
Her index finger carefully traced the spine before picking it out. Unexpectedly, Dahlia felt a sense of somberness blanket her. The idea of hate altogether would always relate back to school, her stepmother, and to everyone she ever encountered that abused her and those around them. And a difficult concept to relate to when your general demeanor seems to lack much aggression. Maybe reading up on the nature of hatred could connect some dots and provide her with some ideas, and hopefully some catharsis.
"Interesting how frequent our chance encounters are, Miss Rhodes."
"-Oh ... !"
Totally taken off guard, Dahlia's shoulders shot halfway to her ears when the familiar voice cut through her thoughts.
Who else but Jonathan Crane? This certainly was quite a chance encounter.
And for reasons unbeknownst to her, Dahlia felt her cheeks grow hot. On his off day, Crane of course wasn't in his usual suit. Instead he was sporting a pale gray button-up with a well-loved corduroy jacket. She immediately thought to herself that she liked it, and right after shook the embarrassing thought away.
Under his arm, he carried a few fairly large books with covers all torn and worn. He asked, "Like minds?"
Dahlia smiled warmly and responded, "Yeah, I'm stocking up at home. And used books are the best. New ones just don't ..." She paused, nose wrinkling as she attempted to find the right descriptor.
Crane finished, "Have character?"
"Yes!" She nodded. "The smell, the feel. I appreciate that someone had owned these books for however long they did, and figured they were worth more than a garbage bin. They got a second chance. And some of these books were well-loved enough that people even wrote nice notes in them."
... Well that sentimental rant came out of no where, Dahlia thought.
Crane bailed her out with a quiet chuckle. "I'm glad to see you're in better spirits today." Blushing harder than ever, Dahlia had no comment and let him continue. "Did you end up finding your cat? Your ..." He paused, waiting for a name.
"Um. Cat is his name actually." She laughed at herself. "Breakfast at Tiffany's reference. But no, he hasn't turned up yet."
The corners of Crane's mouth pulled downward briefly before he replied, "Well, that's unfortunate. I'm sure he'll show up eventually." After a pause, he took Hatred from Dahlia's hand and held it up. "This one's on me."
Dahlia wasn't quite ready to leave so soon, but once again found herself too beside herself to respond quick enough. Following Crane to the check-out counter, she noticed an elderly woman was attending the register. Pushing her curled white hair away from her eyes, she offered an open hand to take Crane's selections. "Find everything you need today, good sir?"
He handed the hefty books over and scoffed. "I can't possibly look that old for that title, can I?" Dahlia couldn't tell right if that was an attempt at joke or not. She stayed at his flank to observe.
The old woman snorted as her scanner beeped. "Too old for me anymore, kiddo."
He made a soft hissing sound. "Resistance is futile, Tillie." Crane's hands retrieved his wallet from his back pocket.
"I'll reconsider when you get more flexible."
OH MY GOD.
Was this what joking was like with him? Never in a goddamn million years would Dahlia have pegged Crane for one to jest like that. Clearly he built some rapport with this woman, and he shopped at this store long before she had wandered along. Was it really long enough to deem this level of joking appropriate?
The concept was mind-boggling and Dahlia had dozens of questions.
Both Tillie and Crane shared a laugh. After they bantered a moment longer, she handed him the books in a large bag and then looked Dahlia square in the eyes. Dahlia froze.
"You've got a fiesty catch here, young lady."
NO NO NO NO NO.
Crane raised a hand and shook his head. "Only colleagues, nothing more." As he motioned Dahlia to walk with him out of the store, he called to Tillie one last time, "See you next week for our date!"
The old woman crowed and waved goodbye to Crane. Even through her powdery makeup, Dahlia could tell that she was blushing.
Before she knew it, Dahlia was at Crane's side while he ordered hot coffee from a shop two doors down from the bookstore. She realized perfectly well that she wasn't directly invited, but the way that he moved and behaved threw her expectations. He just began to walk and talk, and not wanting to come off rude, Dahlia bridged the gap and followed. She couldn't tell if he was expecting this or not. What a peculiar lack of communication, she thought.
After being handed a hot tea, the two walked outside again and Dahlia felt compelled to say something.
"I apologize about last night, Professor."
"Again? What possibly for, Miss Rhodes?"
"For ... being shy and weird, I guess?" Her heart began to race as she continued, her fingers tracing the textures of her cup of tea. Being this earnest wasn't her usual style when talking to someone she didn't know well. Her eyes dropped to the ground. "That whole school situation, and the people who I mentioned were assholes ... I know it's like a public secret. But it's kind of a sore spot that I just don't like to really talk about. And I'm sorry I was weird about it."
When she looked back up after a pause and a shrug, Crane was looking straight back. Her chest began to feel light, and her anxiety climbed yet higher. He said, "I suppose my curiosity got the better of me. You're not alone in those experiences, Dahlia."
"I know I'm not, but I feel like this town's made of nothing but-"
"I was referring to myself, actually."
Her brows furrowed. "You were bullied, Professor?" Going by how confident he came off, she wouldn't have guessed.
Crane gave a slow nod. "I had a lot of monikers around high school specifically. Usually something to do with being a slim guy with glasses, or growing up as a poor country kid whose grandmother couldn't and didn't want to afford clothes without holes in them."
This was fascinating to her. She nodded without breaking eye contact, curious to hear more.
He indulged her a bit. "If Grandmother Crane thought my work in the field was inadequate, or if she caught me reading a book, she'd make me dress in my Sunday best, lock me in the aviary with starving crows."
"What the f ..." Dahlia stopped herself from continuing. She sympathized, and empathized, entirely.
"I trust we can remain professional with each other, Miss Rhodes." Crane handed her Hatred and said, "But you have at least one friend in this town."
She didn't think herself the type to cry at this kind of thing, and yet she could feel moisture rising as the corners of her lips were pulled up into a smile.
By the time she finally arrived at home, Lou had made it back as well.
He didn't take off his shoes, however. No doubt he was going to be headed back out again.
Dahlia and her father chit chatted a bit before she headed for her bedroom to wind down. The last free night before this week's classes began again. Lou threw his hand in the air towards her. "Oh that reminds me! Some guy came by earlier and said he found Cat. Said he was a school pal of yours?"
It couldn't be ...
The excitement overcame her as Dahlia carefully opened the door to her bedroom. Cat didn't jump out in her field of vision. What?
A second later, relief kicked in full blast when she noticed him sleeping curled under her desk and on her desk chair. She began crying as she gently pulled the chair out to hold him. Cat meowed softly, being stirred from his nap, and melted affectionately into Dahlia's arms.
After a moment she looked back towards her father, who was standing in the doorway basking in shared relief. A sniffle and then she said, "A school friend found him?"
"Yeah, young skinny guy with brown hair, crazy blue eyes, about my height."
The amount of happy coincidences in this day were overwhelming.
And he was so modest too. She figured Crane didn't want to spoil her on the surprise until she got home and saw for herself.
With relief, Dahlia whispered to herself,
"Finally, someone I don't need to be afraid of."