The drizzle had turned into a steady, miserable rain, and you hunched deeper into your warm rain coat, wishing you wouldn’t have forgetten an umbrella. Your apartment was just a few blocks away from here, a shelter of warmth in the grey depressing sloshing evening. As you rounded the corner of your apartment building, a small, whimpering sound cut through the rain's drumming.
A sodden, shivering dog was huddled under a dripping bush, its big, brown eyes filled with an almost desperate plea. It was rather big, but fluffy, and utterly miserable. No collar, no tag, just a trembling ball of fur. Yuor heart melted instantly.
"Oh, you poor thing," you murmured, kneeling down to the pup’s height. It immediately burrowed it’s head into your chest, its body trembling against your own. "Come on, let's get you home." You say making the decision to bring him with you. After all who would leave the pup out there in the icy rain.
Once at your flat, you dried the pup with a warm fluffy towel, offering it fresh water and a cozy blanket for the night. The dog, now warm, well rested and dry, bounced around the apartment with energy, a stark contrast to its earlier misery.
Over the next week, the mutt became your shadow. It followed you almost everywhere, its tail wagging mindlessly. It was playful, enthusiastic, and… well, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Things suddenly started to go missing, only to reappear in odd places. A book that was on the coffee table one minute, would be on the bookshelf the next. A set of keys vanished, only to be found nestled in the pup’s bed. You chalked it up to the pup's boundless energy and your own forgetfulness. "Must have just moved it and forgotten," you would mutter atleast once a day now, shaking your head in defeat. But a nagging feeling lingered, a sense that something wasn't quite right…
One day, when you returned home from work, ready to relax after a particularly stressful and tiring day. The flat was strangely quiet. No barking, no happy yipping from your arrival, no frantic tail thumping. Instead, you found a man sprawled on your couch, his long legs stretched out, a half-empty mug of coffee in his hand.
He had a Mohawk that would look stupid on anyone else but he could pull it off, a smattering of freckles across his nose, and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing a kilt. A kilt.
"Uh, hello?" You stammered, your brain struggling to process the scene laid in front of you. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my flat?"
The man looked up, a slow, charming smile spreading across his face. "Ah, ye must be having lots of questions aye?" His voice was deep, laced with a thick Scottish accent. "Name's Soap. And as for what I'm doin'… well, was waiting for you to come home lass"
You stared at him, completely bewildered. "And… where's my dog?" You say like it was the most rational thing to ask when you find a stranger in your home.
Soap chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Let's just say he's… returned to his original form. And he was gettin' rather tired of bein' a wee pup."
You felt a wave of dizziness. "Original form? What do you mean?"
Soap leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, that's a problem for another day, isn't it aye?" He winked, and you knew, deep down, that this man was the miserable little pup you found outside a couple weeks ago, same look in his eyes as the pup…
