John finds himself stumbling around London at two in the morning. He's piss drunk; the lapels of his coat smells like cheap perfume and vomit from the bar and it's nothing new, really. Third day of heavy drinking with no foreseeable end - anything to keep the thoughts out of his head.

Besides that, he's wondering where would be the safest place to take a piss without the coppers pulling him over.

He finds himself walking along a found smelling, empty alley. The coppers aren't around. He unzips his pants hurriedly and leans his forehead against the brick wall.

A dog wanders by him and stares him down. Feeling like crap, John gives the dog a foul look. The dog doesn't move and John mutters under his breath.

"Stop staring, you wanker."

"At least I have the dignity not to go on these streets. Try using grass instead," the dog says unhelpfully.

John pauses for a few seconds. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, or maybe you don't have any ears. Wouldn't be surprised." The dog bites at thin air and coughs. "Flies here taste bad. Worse than other places."

"Dogs don't speak," John remarks - although he's sure that it's the alcohol speaking and considering what he knows, a speaking dog isn't at all that unlikely.

With a bark of amusement the dog appears to grin, "well, I do."

The dog sniffs at the air around John before his tail droops. "Hey. Have you seen a small girl? Weird hair, vacant look on her face, sort of strange?"

Unable to go because of the dog's unnerving stare, John zips up his pants. "No."

"Well if you do- tell her I'm looking for her."

"Sure."

The dog turns to saunter off.

Weird. By now he's convinced that he's just had too much alcohol and that more wouldn't hurt so he searches through his pocket for his hip flask; and almost drops it in shock when a voice speaks. "You smell like neon lights-"

Turning to source the noise, he examines a small girl carrying an empty fishbowl. The girl has bright red hair and eyes of different colors. One of her eyes is green and the other - an off-color gray that looks like it's trying to be green. John rubs his eyes.

"Hey kid, isn't it past your bedtime?"

She smiles absentmindedly before ignoring his question. "Have you had green phone mouse ice cream? I wonder what it tastes like."

"I haven't."

"Oh."

A fish (A fish? John thinks with great confusion, fish don't fly!) swoops by his head like a dive bomber.

John ducks with a loud "fuck!" while the girl reaches to catch the fish. It wriggles in her fingers and she pops it into her eye. From where he stands, John turns to look at the girl. Her one gray eye is a brilliant green.

"What was that-" John is interrupted as she continues to talk to no one in particular. "-I like fish, do you like fish? They're furry and -"

John wonders what drugs the girl is taking as she babbles on. He's too unsure of what to do with her and speculates that he's just imagining all this.

"You!" The dog's voice yelps with joy. John sees a black body spring by him and knock the small girl over into a puddle. "Oh, hello again."

"Don't wander off like that," the dog woofs gruffly before squirming out of the girl's grasp.

After a few moments of their reunion (in which John seriously contemplates if he's dreaming) he finally speaks up, "so, can I take a piss in peace now?"

If dogs could roll their eyes, that dog would be doing it. "Come on, let's leave the grouch in peace."

They begin to walk away.

The way she walks, as if she's tripping over thin air, triggers something in the back of John's head.

"Hey," John calls; there's something painfully familiar about the girl, although he's sure that he's never met her before. The two stop to look at him, "do I know you from somewhere?"

Delirium tilts her head and smiles widely.