"Food," said Bitar.

"Lots," said Smitar.

"With ketchup!" said Bitar licking his chops, studying Camero's bright red hair. "Now that you've reminded me."

"Lots," agreed Smitar. "Lots and lots of ketchup."

Beth leaned the shotgun against the wall and put her hands on her hips. "And who is paying for this 'lots'?"

"What's paying?" asked Bitar.

"You know," said Smitar. "Giving something in exchange for dinner instead of catching it. They use gold sometimes."

"Gold's not very tasty. No crunch to it," said Bitar, dismissively. "So you get captive dinner. We've got that."

"Turn him upside down and see if he has any gold," suggested Smitar.

Bitar did, and shook him. A wallet, a packet of cannabis and some keys clattered to the ground. "No gold," said the dragon, dolefully. "I like the way it shines, even if it has no crunch to it."

"Anyway, he's a captive already. No use paying for him," said Smitar.

"Never mind," said Camero, picking up the wallet and opening it. She smiled cheerfully after examining the contents. "Food and ketchup it is. I don't get that many customers dropping in that I can afford to turn two big eaters down, I reckon. You eating too, mister? Seeing as you're paying."

An hour and one hundred and fifty-four half-pound burgers with cheese and all the trimmings, twenty-four hot dogs and all the mustard and ketchup in the place-and an empty wallet-later, they rose, slowly, heading northwest.

"Say, what's your name, half-dinner?" said Smitar.

"Carl Frederick," answered the man.

The dragons peered at him suspiciously. "Have you been to Colchis?"

"Never heard of the place, honest."

"Ach. What did Mac say they called it these days?… ah! Georgia."

"Uh. Yeah," admitted the good-ole-boy from Georgia, USA, in cheerful ignorance of any other Georgia.