(Untitled)

[twoeyesonthesky]

There are Americans on the other side of that door. Americans. There hasn't been anything in the sky for twenty years, and the shipping lanes've been closed nearly as long. The roads of Britain haven't been run in five years, not that Quinn knows of, and there hasn't even been word out of the other fortresses of the North- but there are Americans

Comments

[bigredbeak]

Brooklyn is nearby and pops the cap off his beer bottle with a claw tip.

"That kind of day, huh?"

[twoeyesonthesky]

Oh, God, another one. Well, they're different around here. "You might say that," says Quinn. "I don't- aaah!"

He jumps backwards a good yard or so, stumbling into a table. It isn't every day you encounter a portable dragon.

... all right, they're all portable, but it's a matter of scale really.

[bigredbeak]

Scale, ha! Ba-dum-cha.

Brooklyn lets out a small laugh. "Dude. It almost feels good that someone finally did that. Everyone here is so blasé. 'Wotcher, big red dude with a beak. Alien, right?'" He shakes his head. "Humans."

[twoeyesonthesky]

It's worth noting that that meaning really and truly didn't occur to the poor fellow.

"... you can talk," says Quinn. "I mean- I-" He shakes his head rapidly. "I'm sorry... ah...bit of a lifetime of bad experiences with dragons, you see."

Generally, his brain is pointing out, his dragons aren't red.

And haven't got hair.

And can't talk.

And they're bigger ALL RIGHT HE GETS THE PICTURE.