A dragon is stalking past on rather small feet. (It's a rather small dragon.)
Someone is sulking.
"Watch your feet," someone else who is less purple says absently as she watches him storm over to a chair not facing her. "He's more inclined to flame when he's cranky."
Cue dragon pausing to glare at her and stick his tongue out.
Cue mutant snorting in response. "Which he's obviously not at all tonight."
"Kate. He's a handy sort of dragon who doesn't need beer," and that's very deliberate and cheerful. "He can take care of a few things. Though not aliens all that often these days."
"Name a vice," and it's wry, "and he likes it. Fire breather and alcohol aren't so much the greatest of combos, though, and I like my bunk unburned, thanks. Plus fire's a bitch to phase through. He'll sulk for a few hours and get over it."
Someone is sulking.
"Watch your feet," someone else who is less purple says absently as she watches him storm over to a chair not facing her. "He's more inclined to flame when he's cranky."
Cue dragon pausing to glare at her and stick his tongue out.
Cue mutant snorting in response. "Which he's obviously not at all tonight."
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His eyebrows go way up.
"Dude, is that--?"
Dude. It's like a little portable flamethrower.
Sweet.
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"Um. What-- is he a dragon?"
A beat.
"Your dragon?"
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It makes him look like a little kid.
"How much flame we talkin' about here?"
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"Depends how angry or protective he is. At his worst? He kinda incinerated a room of Sidri aliens." It's very affectionate.
Lockheed is still sulking for the record, but there is a hint of pride in his sulk now!
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"Okay then."
Sam shrugs, and smiles at her.
"I guess we should get on good terms, then-- I'd hate for him to go feeling all protective."
A beat.
"I'm Sam."
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His attention is taken up by the purple dragon.
"Dude. Aliens? Damn, that'd come in all kinds of handy."
He wants one now.
Kinda.
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"Nice to meet you, Kate."
Wait for it...
"Does he like beer?"
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If possible, Dean's grin is even wider.
"That's my kinda dragon."
The size helps.
A lot.
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Sam's tone is firm.
"You can't have a dragon, Dean."
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And very innocently.
"They're very loyal and protective creatures."
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"Man, I would jump at that, maybe. Even with all the firebreathing."
Maybe especially with the firebreathing.
"But I don't think one of 'em'd like living in the Impala."
Sam is a killjoy, is what he is.
Freaking giant.
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"No unless," wryly, "you stopped frequently enough to let it, uh, practice. Maybe if they were older."
Sorry, Alanna, she tried.
"You travel a lot, then?"
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