"How the drek should I know?" I replied. He was being a royal pain again. "You haven't started teaching me that yet."

He smiled and put the pizza slice down on the table. "Of course, my dear," he said as he stood. "Soon, soon."

"So?" I asked, dropping my hands to my hips.

His left eyebrow lifted. "So?"

"There's a fraggin' dragon here to see you!"

He licked the grease from his hand. "Well, yes, you just told me that." He'd made me promise to try to stop hitting him, but one of these days… "Do you want me to just leave him out there?"

"No, of course not!" he replied. "That would be quite rude. Ask him in."

"Um, don't you think he's a little big for the doorway?" I figured that was probably a stupid question. In the short time I'd been with him, I'd learned, if nothing else, that the obvious was rarely that, and the impossible the norm.

He gave me his best "I know lots of things you don't know" look. "Why don't we let him decide, eh?"

I shrugged. "Fine, why don't we. You're the one paying the repair bills." As I turned to leave, something occurred to me. I paused and looked back at him. He was reaching for the pizza slice.

"Uh, I don't know what dragons are into," I said, "but I figure you might want to put some clothes on before he comes in."

He looked at me, then at himself. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he said. "But how do you know it's a he?"

Someday I was going to hit him so hard he'd need a closed casket.

At the back of the house I hesitated, straightened my clothes, then walked briskly into the garden. It was still sitting right where it had landed, curiously watching the poi circling in a nearby shallow pool. Its sapphire and silver scales reflected the late afternoon sun, changing the garden into a Maxfield Parrish painting. The dragon seemed oblivious to my presence, intent instead on the movements of the goldfish. I didn't want to… actually, was afraid to… disturb it. I didn't want it to move again.