Arthur didn't really respond, simply giving me a brief nod and then sitting back and strapping back up. I started the engine as the questions in my mind finally kicked back in again. Was I really inviting a random stranger to come and sleep in my tiny apartment?

Where was I even going to put him? Yes, I had a small sofa bed, but the important word was small. And Arthur wasn't. I also didn't have much food in and I hadn't cleaned the apartment in what must have been several weeks.

As I drove toward my home, I tried to remember how I had left it that morning. Were there dishes in the sink? Almost certainly. But, more importantly, had I left clothes lying around?

That part I couldn't be sure of. I wasn't the tidiest. Who was when there was never anyone else to see it?

And it wasn't as if I knew this was going to happen today. I didn't wake up each day wondering if I was going to bring a possible criminal home with me after his initial interrogation and offer him a place to stay. That wasn't the sort of thing we were meant to do.

In fact, if I thought about it like that, it was insane. My parents would have hit the roof if they'd known I was doing this. I'd have hit the roof if any of my friends had done it.

Yet here I was, driving Arthur to my house after inviting him to stay the night. I wasn't sure I even had enough bedding. The sofa bed hadn't been used in years. No one came to stay with me. I was always too busy.

It took another forty minutes to get to my apartment block and I pulled into the car park underneath it, hoping that there wasn't anyone lingering or trying to hide there for the night. Homeless people were normally harmless enough, even now, but when they got drunk and it was late and cold, they weren't always in the best moods.

Just as I had almost misdirected my anger onto the receptionist at the hostel, sometimes people directed their anger at me because I wore a uniform and worked for the government that had screwed them over. It was just the way things were sometimes.

Thankfully, it was all quiet and no one bothered us as I made my way over to the lift and pressed the call button. It waited on the main floor of the block when no one needed it, and it was gone midnight now, so we only had a few seconds to wait for it to come down to us.

Arthur's eyes went wide as the doors opened, however.

"Is this your apartment?" he asked as I strode inside and turned around.

"No," I replied, confused by the question. He followed me inside anyway, the curiosity clear on his face as he glanced from one mirrored wall to another.

"This is a lift," I said when I pressed the button to take me to the fifth floor. There were twelve, but there was no way I could afford the larger apartments near the top, I could barely afford the one I had.

"A lift?" He moved to look at the control panel as if he was beginning to work out what it did. At the same time, the floor jerked slightly as it began to rise back up. "It is lifting us up to other levels of building?"

"Yes, exactly that." I studied him as he learned fast and put two and two together right in front of me. Maybe he would have been better off alone than I'd thought. But I still couldn't imagine putting him out in London to fend for himself.

Thirty years earlier, when I had been a young child, maybe, but not now.

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We were soon at level five and it ground to a shaky halt, wobbling both of us before the doors slid open again. He wasn't surprised to see a different hallway outside of the lift, nor hesitant to step out again, although he looked down at the gap between lift and wall, almost as if he hoped to get a better look at the mechanisms that made it work and held it up.

I considered pulling up some kind of demonstration or explanation video on the internet as I followed him onto the floor. My apartment wasn't too far from the lift, and I walked down the corridor toward it, taking the right turns automatically to get there. I stopped in front of 512 and pulled out my key card.

The card activated the door and a small panel opened up where I placed my thumb and then it opened another to scan my eye. Finally, when it was satisfied that I was the person who lived here and registered in the files, it clicked open.

I pushed it wider and motioned for Arthur to follow inside. He paused at the door, looking at the controls and how sophisticated they were.

"I've got a little extra security," I said as I waited for him, not wanting to be out in the hallway longer than I had to be.

"Security? Are they like guards?" he asked, finally going inside. He looked around the room as if everything was new and strange as well, but this must have been the unguarded reaction he had to everything.

"No, technology. A lot of what we have now might seem like magic when it's just science and technology. An understanding of how things work and constructions that take advantage of it." As I spoke I flicked the light switch and flooded the apartment in light.

To my relief, the room was relatively tidy, although I hadn't washed my breakfast bowl or moved it from the coffee table. Thankfully Arthur didn't seem to care and was more interested in seeing what the TV was.

I grinned as I considered what he might make of it. The thought of his reaction if I switched it on, made me pause. Had I really bought into his story so fully that I believed he wouldn't know what a TV was or anything about them.

As a healthy dose of skepticism crept in, I picked up the remote off the sofa and flicked it on. He stepped back seemingly startled as a picture appeared and started playing.

"It's a TV," I explained, knowing that shouldn't mean anything alone. "Plays pre-recorded moving footage of people acting out stories and plays. Also the news from real life and things like that depending on what you choose to watch."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced my way briefly. I selected one of the streaming services that I thought might have a movie about his legend and then searched for Arthur in it.

As his eyes grew wider, so did my grin.

"Here, if you're King Arthur, you should know what has survived of your story. There are lots of movies and TV shows about what might have happened. No doubt some more accurate than others. I've watched most of them."

While he sat himself down on the edge of the sofa, almost perching precariously on the edge and the opening sequence to one of the more action based movies played, I made my way toward the kitchen.

It was more messy than the rest of my apartment by far, and I quickly tidied it, gathering everything that needed to be washed and pulling out some frozen meals I could heat up for us. Knowing that Arthur had been waiting for me and had eaten even less than I had today made me feel responsible for feeding him.

It didn't take me long to do a surface clean up and get some crockery clean to use, and by then the stew I'd made had heated through on the stove. After making a quick cup of tea for us both as well, I grabbed a small tray I had and took it back through to Arthur.

The whole time I had been in the kitchen I had been able to hear the TV playing and I had been listening along as best I could. I came back to find Arthur sat back more comfortably on the chair, but still not looking entirely relaxed.

I placed the tray down on the coffee table and sat down beside him. I had no trouble with the idea of watching a decent enough movie while I ate and rested my aching feet.

"Stew," I said, a few seconds later when his eyes never left the screen and he didn't appear to notice that I had joined him.

"Thank you," he replied, reaching for one of the bowls more automatically than with any desire.

I settled back, grateful that another day was over and I could at least lose myself in a film, and grateful for past me having thought to freeze some decent food at the weekend. Some days just didn't make much sense.