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Honestly, the only thing that had given him pause was the word "respectful." It wasn't so much that he felt he couldn't live up to that as that it made him inordinately leery about what exactly it was that he was supposed to be respecting.

But his landlady's willingness to give him "one more month" on the lease had started getting exhausted three months back. A roommate was inevitable. The search was getting exhausting. It was cheap; it was close to the gym. It appeared to have been posted by someone literate.

A short description. Well. He could try.

With his feet propped up, Isaac composed an email, with the help of copious quantities of coffee.

Which is how he ended up on Roosevelt St. at 7:55 sharp: a tall, well-dressed man with reading glasses that made him look younger than he was, tailed by an incredibly well-behaved border collie on a slack leash. If he was going to have to win this Rosalie character over to the idea of having an animal in the house, he was going to do it early, with absolute faith in the dog's ability to impress, both in terms of training and cute factor. He was not above cheap tricks. He needed a place to stay and Rosalie's Craigslist ad hadn't seemed written by the insane or the mentally destitute, and he was actively avoiding running into his landlady on the stairs in case the discussion of next month's lease came up.

So he'd worked on this. And he knew as soon as Rosalie opened the door that the dog would sit up on her hindlegs, and she would c**k her head--already lopsided, one ear up, one ear down; one eye brown, one eye blue--and dammit, she would be irresistible.

He hoped.

He wiped his glasses down, absently straightened his tie, and he knocked.

Damn. He hadn't missed that, although he wasn't sure what had brought it on. Was it his clothes? Was she expecting someone younger? Older?

"Rosalie," he said, attempting to maneuver onto a plan B that didn't yet exist. He extended his hand for a firm and professional handshake. "Great location," he said, by way of awkward, idle small talk. "And don't worry, she can wait outside." He indicated the dog with his elbow, holding out his free hand palm-downward. The dog sat down. At least she was demonstrating that she was well-trained. Could be worse.

He hesitated, but then he smiled again, albeit somewhat nervously, and made a movement of his hand that had the dog up and following them in. It stayed close to Isaac's side, and, gratifyingly, did not immediately bound up onto the couch.

An awkward pause.

"Thanks again for letting me come over and take a look. I, uh--" began Isaac, after looking around. "I have a storage unit, so if you wanted to keep the common area furniture as-is, that's cool. It's nicer than mine." Or at the very least it was newer. "How are the neighbors? Quiet? No budding rockstars with erratic practice schedules?"

He had the sort of avuncular air of carefully-suppressed enthusiasm one absolutely expected of a middle school teacher: the sort of person who was probably about to clap his hands and tell a really lame Dad Joke. The sort of person who talked about potential and applying yourself with big sincere eyes. The sort of person who called the students "guys" and probably played pickup basketball with his college buddies on weekends. Isaac was a type. He was trying to be professional and reserved but it was leaking right through.

"Good relationship with the property owner is usually a positive thing," he acknowledged, peering around the room and trying to look like he was weighing its pros and its cons. In all honesty what he was doing was trying to gauge how likely she'd be to let him put his name on the lease. "So are quiet neighbors."

Another awkward pause while he pretended to assess the state of the doorframe, for lack of anything better to do.

"So, uh," he said. He tried on a grin, less sure than he might otherwise have been. If Rosalie were a different person he might have tried flirting with her, but he was cutting as wide a berth as possible around that idea, and with relief. He never liked flirting with people to get his way, even if it frequently worked. It was just another form of lying. "I'm definitely interested. I'm sure you've got other prospects to show around first," he added, by way of trying not to look too eager.

In response to being looked at the dog wagged its tail, but gratifyingly did nothing more dramatic than that.

"Oh," said Isaac, moved to joviality by creeping relief, "you know, not enough room for--"

He'd been about to say "the meth lab." For once in his life he caught himself.

"--walking the dog, in that neighborhood. No sidewalks. And the rent's up, and the roommate got a job across the country." There. Clean as a whistle and all of it true, even if he'd preferred to have left it at the meth lab comment. "Lease ran out, decided it was time for an upgrade."