Keeping up rent was more difficult than Sora had imagined, even with a full time job. He was spending all of his income on his rent and bills and food, and there was no money for himself. He knew he probably shouldn’t have tried to keep up a place like this, but it was so perfect for him. So the advertisement in the newspaper was his only hope.
Thankfully, someone called him back immediately, taking interest in the place. A man of twenty whose name he didn’t quite catch because of his thick accent. In fact, the man spoke so fast in that brogue he’d barely been able to catch a word. From what he understood from the brisk conversation was that this guy was coming to visit the place today to give it a look and see if he was interested.
Leaving the door open for him, Sora set about making some snacks, for whatever mad etiquette compulsions he needed fulfilled to make a good impression on the gentleman. Crackers and dip were an obvious choice. No sooner than he’d prepared the plate, he’d heard a knock on the ajar door behind him and saw a familiar figure.
"Er, good afternoon. I’m…here to look at the place," said the Irishman, whose eyes began to twinkle, like he was telling a joke. Even the corners of his lips were twitching.
"You!" said Sora in surprise. "You’re that fortune teller!"
"Yes, I am, er…Sora, wasn’t it?"
"You’re the dude who told me all those weird things!"
"Aaah, right. Well, I…wouldn’t put much stock into that kind of thing. It’s pretty inaccurate. Mostly symbolic…" the man gave a sheepish little smile. "Parlor tricks and all that…"
"Symbolic? You told me very specifically that I was a reincarnation of a messiah! That’s a rung below Symbolic, leading down to Fucked Up territory."
"Clearly you thought so, having left my premises very quickly," the Irishman chortled, looking very pleased. "But yes, that’s just stuff that I get, it’s er…not entirely true. Specifics are vague. I’m not omniscient, you know…"
"What was your name?" Sora interrupted, his palm over his forehead, his other hand on his hip. "I didn’t catch it on the phone, you talk too fast…"
"Liam," he said happily, hands in his pocket. "Though people call me Morty. It’s a pun, don’t ask. Call me that if you like."
"Right, well, Liam, or Morty, or Weirdo. I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable living with a whackjob who thinks I’m a reborn messiah, so the deal’s off. Sorry to waste your time. Have a snack before you go, by all means…"
"You need this though," said Morty cheerfully, rocking back and forth on his heels. "You really need someone to help you pay the rent. Don’t deny it, I can tell. And as it happens, I have rather a lot of money and a steady income as a violinist at a very fancy restaurant…And I rather like the look of this place, too, so…if you’re willing…"
Sora stared at him for a moment, not quite sure what to say. It was true that he really needed the help. And if he was telling the truth, and made good money, then this could solve all of his problems. Everything would work out. The only downside was living with this creepy weirdo.
"I don’t think you’re a messiah, just to clear that up," Morty said at exactly the right moment in Sora’s train of thought. He wanted to think that was a coincidence, but the gleam in his eyes said otherwise. "No offense though," he added.
"If I agree to this…" Sora said slowly. "You’ll keep your weird psychic insights to yourself, right?"
"And you’ll not cause any kind of weird That’s So Raven style shenanigans with them, right?"
"I’ll certainly try."
Sora picked up the plate of crackers and held it out to him. “Welcome, Weirdo.”