In this scene from Someday In Dublin, Michael takes a late-night phone call . . .

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Michael was dreaming he was wearing a large, heated hat. So large, in fact that in order to fit through the doorway, he had an emergency beacon that activated, so that everyone could clear out of the way.

He tried to step through, but the hat got stuck, pressing down on his head with punishing force as the noise of the beacon increased, bleating louder and louder until he opened his eyes and realized it as the middle of the night.

It was the middle of the night, his phone was ringing, and there was a cat on his head.

There was a cat on his head, and she wasn’t going to budge.

“Get off, you sodding feline,” he grumbled, pushing her off the pillow. He got a kick to the side of the face for that, and uttered a curse word as he fought his way out of the covers. He finally succeeded in putting his feet to the floor and stumbled over to his pants, still wadded up near the dresser. He pulled his phone from the pocket just as it stopped ringing.

“Shite!”

He swiped the screen angrily, pulling up the missed call.

Amy. Amy had called him. He touched the button to dial her back and sat back down on his bed, running a hand over his eyes to clear them before switching on the bedside lamp.

“Michael?” She answered on the first ring.

“Sorry, luv,” he said. “I was asleep. Didn’t get to the phone in time.”

“Oh,” she said. “What time is it there?”

“It’s four-thirty-six in the blessed morning. It’s still dark out.”

“Oh. I’ll call another time.” She said it matter-of-factly, but Michael jumped in quickly.

“No! No, it’s all right. It’s Saturday. I don’t have to go to work.”

“It’s Saturday in Ireland, too?” Amy asked. “Isn’t that nice.”

Something about the cadence of her voice finally registered with him, and he found himself grinning.

“Amy…are you drunk?”

“Well, see…I was,” she explained. “But then a guitar playing leprechaun was talking about fireflies and I missed you so I came home?” She said it like a question, even though it wasn’t. “And then my Mom had to come get me because I wasn’t that drunk but I was being responsible anyway and then she told me I’m not getting any younger and I shouldn’t let one bad leprechaun guy turn me into a hermit and she knows this guy at her work and I tried to tell her he wouldn’t be any good for me but oh well.” She said it all in one long sentence, without drawing a single breath.

“That’s quite the story,” Michael said, lying back on his bed.

“I know! And then she left and I had another drink. Or two.”

“Ah. I see.”

She was silent for a moment, and then her voice suddenly became smaller.

“Are you mad?”

“What? Because you called me at four thirty-six in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m glad, Amy. I’ll take a call from you at any time of the night. Or day.”

“Because we’re friends, right?”

“Right.” There was just the slightest hesitation before he said it, and drunk as she was, she heard it anyway.

“Because you said we could be friends,” she reiterated. “And…I’d like that. I miss talking to you.”

“I miss you, too, luv.” His voice was warm, and she felt it radiating through her, leaving a pleasantly rosy glow that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“I think I’m going to go throw up now,” she mumbled. “But it’s been nice talking to you.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, too,” he said. “Goodnight, Amy.”

“Goodnight, Michael.”

The call ended, and Michael stared at the screen. He pulled his arm up over his eyes, still grasping the phone, not wanting to put it down.

He fell asleep just like that, and with a smile on his face.