He took a step toward Griffen. Though he didn’t show scales, his skin seemed to darken, harden. It was as if his dark skin were turning to brick, or stone, but it still moved and rippled like flesh.

Griffen cocked his head the other way.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Griffen said.

A soft growling tugged at the attention of the three dragons.

Two dogs, medium-sized, glared up at Waters. A moment ago they had been asleep in the bar. Now their ears were back and teeth bared. The larger one’s shoulder blades began to tense.

“You think I can’t pound down a dog?” Waters sneered.

The smaller dog barked, a surprisingly loud bark. It drew the attention of the people in the bar and out on the street. One of whom began walking toward the entrance.

“Griffen,” Maestro said. “Was expecting you up the street for pool. Is there a problem?”

That last phrase was said with a bit of edge. His hands were in plain sight, but Griffen had heard a few stories in the past few months. Dogs Waters could handle. This, maybe not.

The bartender looked over.

“Maestro, how the hell have you been?” he asked, and quickly assessed the situation. “Right, what’s going on here? Maestro, you need a hand?”

“Just what I was asking my good friend Griffen here,” Maestro said.

Waters looked from the men to the dogs to Griffen. Flynn chuckled slightly. Griffen had noticed that he had watched him the entire time. There seemed to be another gleam of admiration in his eyes, but also something more . . . calculating.

“What did I say about the wrong kind of notoriety?” Flynn said.

“Fuck you, Flynn,” said Waters.

Everyone watched as the large man left the bar, stopping to glare at Maestro as he stepped to the side. Maestro only smiled slightly, and asked, “Did you use to play sports?”