Most humans were going to be freaked out about learning that heretofore mythical creatures existed, let alone lived anonymously side by side with them. Especially when someone trusted you, and you didn't let the person in on the little secret, "Oh, by the way, I'm a hereditary dragon, and so is my sister. There's a bunch of us around town. We're generally not a problem, but you have to look out for the vampires, werewolves, fairies, shape-shifters, selkies, and others who are here, too." To the man who is trying to enforce law and order with no more than his wits, some martial-arts training, and standard police-issue weaponry, the world is going to seem like a much scarier place. Griffen had pulled the figurative rug out from under him and rendered him less effective at his job. Harrison was finding it hard to forgive the omission. Griffen did not blame him; he blamed himself. He had been avoiding Harrison until he could figure out a way to make it up to him. Simple explanations were out of the question. A full disclosure, over a really good meal and drinks, with time for as lengthy a Q&A session as Harrison chose, plus the acknowledgment that Griffen owed him a favor, a big one, might do the trick, but Griffen had not yet felt ready to do it.
"Uh," Griffen said, lamely. "I've been asked to be king."
"Good idea," Harrison said, with a nod. "Make you fit in better, especially if you are reviving a dormant krewe. Tradition means a lot around here. We've got more of it than you folks from up North."