It was strange not having either Maple, Winnie or one of his countless siblings visiting at the end of a dreary work day. His siblings he always easily brushed off, seeing as nearly all but he and Nemo were attached in some regard. Winnie could be excused too, especially when he considered how distant they'd grown again. But Maple … a night without at least a letter shared was odd these days. They'd grown attached — too attached probably. More attached than he would have imagined at the start of their affair.

The loneliness crept in as easily as the day's light had faded — almost like it was always there, waiting to pounce at a moment's notice. Only, he needn't be alone, right? He had an endless number of acquaintances who could be invited out, parties to attend, brothels to frequent. A man like him — overly charismatic and friendly — needn't be alone for more than five minutes if so desired.

So why did dressing for an evening of unidentified gatherings leave him with such an intense sense of dread? When did parties become more overwhelming than fun? Determined to push through his growing sense of doom, Dory shrugged his light jacket over his shoulders and threw open the door — nearly colliding with Maple in the process.

Were he not so stunned by her presence, he might have noticed her distress. "Merlin's beard Maple," Dory greeted with a short chuckle, his attention more focused on straightening his jacket and identifying whether or not he'd actually stepped on her. "I didn't know you were coming over tonight. I was heading over to the pub, would you like to join me for a drink?"

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