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The late afternoon air felt glorious across Meegi's outstretched wings and took the edge off the burning strain that pulled at the keel of his chest. Compared to the sterile, heavily filtered atmosphere of the hospital, the air felt real, as if alive with the world itself. He wished he could spend longer on the wing, ride the dying thermals and climb until his breath became visible as fog, but his muscles were still only semi-healed and he needed to get home before they gave out. After two weeks in the hospital, he couldn't stand another day of being asked the same few questions by the nurses, watching the same ad-ridden television, or eating another meal where salt was the only seasoning. Security had stopped some fans who had ‘gotten lost’ and tried to enter his suite, but other than a brief visit from his former boss and his son, his mother had been his only visitor. Seeing Mike again had been refreshing, but Meegi couldn't help but feel as though he had somehow let down the small, fur-covered drake, Siidah. He hadn't understood the official press release that showed a bandaged and broken Meegi in a hospital bed saying that he had retired due to injuries. Instead, the young drake had asked many questions about when Meegi would be playing again, and it was difficult to tell the wide-eyed fledgling that he was no longer a Crestie. Mike had been very sympathetic and had jokingly offered him his old job back, but while Meegi had laughed, the idea of being recognised as a washed-up player making coffee made his chest tighten.

Now, his old life was behind him, figuratively and literally, as flying a few yards behind and slightly above, the security guard who had been assigned to him kept pace with effortless ease. The burly white drake, with a speckled black spine, carried himself with the professional detachment of someone who was paid to be insurance but not speak unless necessary. He didn't seem bothered that he was laden with canvas bags full of the various books, magazines and trinkets his mother had brought on her visits, along with another bag full of groceries Meegi had asked him to fetch. Meegi still didn't feel comfortable sending another person to do his errands; however, he didn't feel ready to be in the public eye just yet. He hadn’t been sure what food was in the house, so he had given his body guard a list of ingredients to make an omelet, as it was one of the few meals he knew how to cook. His mother had needed to work again tonight and wouldn't be home until well after midnight, Meegi had decided to check out early and surprise her with a good breakfast to start the weekend. After everything she had done for him while he had been in hospital and spent as much time as she could by his side, he felt it was the very least he could do to show his appreciation.

All he had to do now was not crash on his flight home.

With the wind at his tail and the sun setting to his right, Meegi continued to fly south and spotted, in the distance, an old water tower with a flashing red light on top. The tired concrete structure served as a landmark, and with a laboured flap of both wings and then a sweep of his tail, Meegi corrected his course. The tired, sore flight muscles that made him clench his teeth with even the slightest turbulence. This, along with the cast on his hind leg, made the flight home a long and uncomfortable journey. He briefly considered landing to take a break, but the thought of having to take off once again, or worse, being unable to fly and having to walk, made him dismiss the idea. It was easier to just hold a glide as long as possible and rest his wings when he got home. Despite the pain, the simple fact that he was flying of his own volition eased his mind, and he closed his eyes to savor the moment. Try as he might, the constant weight and pressure of his cast was impossible to ignore. Even with the hooks and straps the nurses had fitted to it in an attempt to make flying with the heavy cast less of a strain on his hips.

Thick nylon straps started at his cast and ran over his rump before being secured to his good hind leg. The result was that he didn't feel much of the weight on his pelvis, but now his good hind leg wanted to lift upwards awkwardly and twist his tail into the wind. Additionally, the aerodynamic drag of the rigid leg meant that he had to keep his tail pressed into the airstream at an angle to maintain a straight course.

Additionally, the reality that he was now unemployed had begun to settle on Meegi's mind, and as much as he tried to reassure himself that he was in a good place financially, the figures in his bank account didn't help him sleep at night. The payout was more than he felt he deserved, however the knowledge that the final payment was going to be his last for possibly a very long time left him feeling uneasy. Growing up, he had never been idle. Between school, practice and then eventually working at the café, every hour had him doing something productive. Now, he felt as though he had nothing to strive towards and push himself to achieve, and if he was honest with himself, it scared him.

Passing over a busy interstate, the buildings quickly lost their height and transformed into more of a sub-urban sprawl. Green lawns were no longer confined just to dedicated parks and now framed many of the structures, broken up by fences and the occasional swimming pool. Compared to the city, where each block was an almost uniform and regimented size, full of buildings, the suburbs were like a patchwork quilt of quiet chaos. Streets twisted and turned as they networked their way through the contours of the land, and as Meegi continued to fly, streetlights began to turn on in sections to create glowing ribbons across the neighbourhood. With the hospital still fresh on his mind, the glowing streets reminded him of a collection of veins and arteries throughout some sort of gigantic body. The countless cars were like blood cells, but instead of carrying oxygen, they carried humans from wherever they were to wherever they had to go. Likewise, the skies were clearer, not just from the smog of the cars and trucks, but because the dragons flying home all tended to fly at roughly the same comfortable altitude, whereas in the city they would have to climb higher than necessary to find less congested sky.

Meegi still kept high above the altitude of others, with more than enough distance to be caught by his bodyguard should his wing give out. A nostalgic warmth softened his gaze as he spotted a large park near his home and flapped his wings for the last time. Judging with practiced familiarity, he knew he could just keep his wings locked and let himself gradually descend to his house with the altitude he had. When he had first received a scholarship to the prestigious private school, they had been able to afford a larger home and moved out of their small apartment and into the two-story house. It wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination, but for the two of them it was plenty of room and, in his mother's words, was more fitting for someone going to his school. Of course, they had been renting, but when their neighbour and landlord was looking to sell while Meegi was playing for the Cresties, Meegi had insisted they buy it. With his income, he could have easily bought her a lavish apartment in the city, or an even larger home in the suburbs. However, she didn't want either, and there was something satisfying about buying his family home for his mother. Tiiphani hadn't been impressed and was outright furious that his mother had been the sole name on the deed, which only made Meegi believe he had made the right choice.

Looking back over his good wing, Meegi quickly caught the attention of the guard who had been scanning the houses below. “Blue roof, with the deck!” he called back and pointed with a forepaw towards his home. The guard nodded a confirmation, and beat his wings to drift closer. With Meegi in the lead, they began a wide, banked turn to approach the house from the backyard rather than the street. Fanning his wings as wide as possible, Meegi clenched his jaw as he felt his flight muscles protest, but continued to slow down to almost a stall. Clearing the roof of the house behind his own, he aimed for the middle of the timber deck that stretched out from the back door. The usually teddy-brown timber slats were an almost ashen grey from the sun. It needed to be re-oiled, something his landlord’s mate had been almost religious about, and Meegi made a mental note to offer to do it. After all, he had time now.

The windows of the humble two-story house flashed orange as they reflected the setting sun, and the thought of finally being home helped quell the unease in Meegi's mind. Arching his back as he rotated his wings and let his hips fall below him, Meegi concentrated on his landing. Heaving two quick flaps, Meegi made sure to land on his good hind leg and kept as much weight on it as possible before dropping to his forepaws. The sudden weight of his body on his three legs made him stumble, and, instinctively, he went to widen his stance only for his cast to clatter and slide out from under him. Falling to his side with his good wing outstretched, Meegi hissed as pain shot through his leg.

“Sir?” came the deep voice of his guard as the white drake landed quickly right behind Meegi and outstretched a foreleg to try and help.

Shaking his head and pulling himself up onto three legs, Meegi felt embarrassed by such an uncoordinated landing and was glad no one else had seen him. “I'm okay,” Meegi replied and began to fold his wings to his sides. His good wing behaved itself despite breaking his fall, but his injured wing took some convincing to fold correctly, with his wing fingers tucked together. “Thank you for flying with me.”

“Of course, sir. Would you like me to take these inside?” the drake replied while placing a forepaw on one of the canvas bags. Something about being called sir on the deck of his family home rubbed Meegi's scales the wrong way. His home was where he was himself, but the drake was clearly still seeing the athlete, and it didn't sit right with Meegi for the drake to be inside his home.

“No, that won't be necessary, thank you. Just by the door is fine,” Meegi said stiffly and stepped aside so the drake could pass him and begin to unload the bags so they formed a neat row beside the back door. “I—ah… I apologise, I don't have any cash on me—”

“No tip necessary, sir,” the drake replied and flashed him a professional smile. “Our boss pays us well enough,” he continued before his smile faltered as if realising he may have insulted Meegi. “Sorry, sir, I didn't mean—”

“It's fine, I know what you meant.”

Meegi's reply didn't seem to put the drake at ease and, with a small nod, he gestured towards the home. “Are you sure you don't want me to carry them in?” he asked, and when Meegi shook his head, he pulled his head back into a curt ‘s’ shape. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir? I was rostered to you until tomorrow.”

“No, thank you. Have the night off,” Meegi said and saw a glimmer of a real smile on the drake's snout. “As far as Haanith needs to know, we left tomorrow morning and I got home safely,” he added and earned a toothy grin from the pale drake.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied and bobbed his head before turning to leave. After two steps, the drake looked back while mantling his wings and nodded towards Meegi with a respectful acknowledgement. “I hope you get well soon. And if I may say so, it was always enjoyable to see you play. The Cresties have lost one of their best,” he added with a sincerity that made Meegi feel awkward. He wasn't sure how much of the truth the drake knew, but guessed he had been told that Meegi was simply too injured to play.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Meegi replied stiffly and nodded in farewell. Watching as the drake crouched briefly and then launched into the sky, Meegi couldn't help but feel slightly envious of the powerful takeoff. He told himself his situation was only temporary; however, it did little to improve his mood. He continued to watch for a few seconds until the heavy thuds of the drake's wings faded into the background and he lost sight of him between the houses.

Standing on the deck, Meegi noticed how differently everything sounded compared to the city center. Most noticeably, the sound of birds chattering and wind rustling the leaves on the many trees his neighbours had to decorate their yards. The sound of cars wasn't gone, but instead of the constant white noise of them driving and honking, they now drove past the houses as if they were intruding on the quietness. Meegi's nostrils twitched and he swallowed when he smelt a sweet, meaty scent mixed with fragrant smoke. Turning his head automatically towards his former landlord's house, he saw a small plume of white-grey smoke coming from the chimney on an outdoor smoker.

He remembered the smell well, and his stomach rumbled. His neighbours almost always cooked something incredible on their deck each weekend, taunting his empty stomach when he used to live here and returned from a game or work. Meegi listened but couldn't hear any voices from the house next door and hoped that they weren't going to be doing one of their epic overnight cooks. After all, his bedroom was on the side of the house closest to his neighbours, and he knew that he would struggle to sleep if he could smell their slow roasting all night.

Swallowing quickly, Meegi shook his head to gather his thoughts and turned back to head inside. Approaching the door, he looked at the combination lock above the handle and paused mid step. After buying the house, his mother had gone through and changed the combination from the one he had typed in every day after school. She had told it to him in passing, but every time he had visited the house after, she had been home. Now, he stared at the keypad and chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to remember what it had been set to. It would only allow for a few attempts before it would time him out and send an alert to his mother, something that would very quickly give away his surprise. Placing a paw on the handle, he pressed down. It moved only a fraction of a degree before coming to a firm stop, confirming that it was indeed locked. Reaching to the keypad, his talon hovered just above the grid of buttons for a moment before he began pressing their street number twice to make up the required digits. Each press came with a gentle beep, but when he had finished he was met with an angry beep from the lock.

“Fuck,” Meegi muttered under his breath. He would only have two more attempts and on the last one it would alert his mother. Wiggling the handle up and down to be sure, he sighed in frustration before dropping his paw back to the deck and lowering his head against the unyielding door with a dull thud and tried to think. He could do magic to open the door from the other side, but he shouldn’t have to. His mother had told him the code, and he had been too preoccupied to remember it. Too distracted with the life of a claimer to listen to his own mother. Too ignorant to think that he might need it one day… His thoughts pulled the corners of his lips down as he breathed a ragged inhale of air.

Two more attempts…

He exhaled slowly through his nose as he tried to clear his mind and tried to remember the conversation. He had been late for something, training or a meeting. No, a community event. Visiting a school to play promote some health food sponsor that had bought his time. He had visited his mother in the morning but had been late getting home, delaying their brunch which had made the whole morning feel rushed and stilted. Like an appointment rather than a catch up with his own mother. He had gotten a call telling him he had to leave, and she had understood. On his way out, she had wrapped a wing around him and hugged him while telling him he was always welcome home…

‘Two going up’

It wasn’t a code, it was a pattern! Meegi pulled his head away from the door and refocused on the keypad. It was a grid of numbers the same as a telephone, with one being in the top left and then running left to right and down. He looked at the three columns of numbers and traced his talon across the possible paths. Likely, it was the keys starting at the bottom and going straight up, but given the number of digits needed it would have to be done twice. He ruled out the middle column as it would contain too many digits if it was repeated twice, leaving the two outer sets of numbers. Starting with the left, he tapped in the keys 7-4-1-7-4-1 but was once again met with another angry beep from the door.

Glaring at the stubborn lock, he tried not to let his emotions get to him and forced a breath in through his nose. It was only a minor setback, yet it felt like a pebble caught under his scales. A constant reminder that he hadn’t been the drake that he wanted to be and had neglected those around him for delusions of grandeur. This was his home now, and he was just as much of a stranger here as he was pretending to be one of the Cresties.

After a moment, he gathered his thoughts, opened his eyes and looked through the small glass panes at the top of the door. What he saw made his breath hitch and his lip tremble in a mixture of love and regret. Even with the lights off inside, Meegi could make out countless balloons and streamers connecting the dozen picture frames that lined the walls. A banner hung across the threshold of the kitchen to the hallway, its comical letters spelling out a welcome home message, even if a corner of it had come unstuck and was now folded over itself. The kitchen table was littered with a collection of empty bags, labelled party balloons, tape and scissors. His mother had clearly pulled out all the stops to welcome him home, and now he had ruined the surprise by coming home early. His gaze swept over the room to take in the details before lingering on something placed on the kitchen counter. At first glance, it looked like a large picture frame, with a timber frame around a large glass pane. Except it was almost a foot deep and inside was a collection of things that weren't just photos. Instead, something large and red dominated the box, with smaller foot-long red cylinders flanking either side. It took Meegi a second to recognise what it was, and a small smile pulled at his lips when he realised it was the armoured pads he had worn while playing. Now his mother's words about wanting to do something for him made sense, and she had managed to sneak off with his uniform before Haanith’s assistants could recover it. Surrounding the armour, photos littered the background along with a collection of newspaper clippings and even a couple of the trading cards showing him flying. Judging by the slight yellowing on some of the clippings, this wasn't a last-minute gift and was a collection of his achievements curated over the years.

Reaching forwards once more, Meegi tried the handle one last time and closed his eyes when it didn't budge. Like all locks, they only really kept out good people. Any dragon or human who truly wanted to get in could just give the door a few firm kicks or break a window to gain entry, which was why many people invested in an alarm that automatically phoned the police. The ongoing subscription however had never bode well with his mother and they had never really thought that they had much worth stealing to justify getting a system installed. Of course, he didn't want to break the door, nor did he need to. Pressing his forehead to the door once more, he relaxed the pressure on the handle and began to calm his mind. Finding the part of his consciousness that allowed him to tap into his magic was always hard to do when he was tired, exhausted or angry. After a few moments, though, he finally reached out with his mind to the other side of the door and began to press on the twistable deadbolt. In an attempt to make the lock more difficult for a magic user to manipulate while still being ergonomic for a dragon's paws, Meegi knew he had to press the knob in while turning it. Breathing steadily, he began to apply pressure towards himself and then started to rotate the knob anticlockwise.

“Locked out?”

Meegi didn't register the voice at first and was too focused on manipulating the lock until his subconscious realised someone was talking to him. Someone who shouldn’t know that he could do magic. The realisation caused Meegi to jump and pull back as if it had shocked him and the sudden shift from using magic to trying to focus on the real world left him reeling, and disorientated. Whipping his head around to see who had spoken, he stumbled back on his three good feet and almost tripped over his own cast. Blinking rapidly, Meegi caught a glimpse of a draconic head looking over the fence at him, and forced his eyes to focus. “Oh, um— what?” he stammered and cleared his throat. His reaction seemed to amuse the dragoness who had been watching him.

“I said, are you locked out? Meegi, right?” she repeated with a toothy smile that contrasted against the inky black scales of her snout. In the dying rays of the late afternoon sun, the dragoness’s blue eyes seemed to almost glow against her dark scales and made the pink scar on her cheek look even more menacing. “I’m guessing you ain't trying to rob your own mother,” she added and flicked her gaze from him towards the door. “Lock giving you trouble or something?”

“Um… yeah… something like that,” Meegi replied, his heart hammering in his chest. Thankfully, the dragoness couldn't know what he had just been doing, and he tried as hard as possible not to look guilty. Forcing his wings to relax and lower slightly, he followed her gaze towards the door before bobbing his head. “Yeah… I kinda forgot the code. Don't suppose she told you it, did she?” he asked, quickly thinking of what he would have to do if he couldn't use magic. Officially, their landlord had been a smaller-than-average drake called Nuut, who lived next door with his mate, a drake called Zuurah, and Zuurah’s sister… whose name escaped him.

“No, sorry, champ. Your mom changed the code when you guys bought the place,” the dragoness replied before her eyes drifted towards his cast. She was right, but how exactly the dragoness next door knew about the changed code was a bit of a mystery. Meegi hoped that it had just come up in conversation with his mother and the dragoness hadn’t been trying to be nosey. “I heard you had a bit of a tumble. Is everything okay?” the dragoness continued, her ignorance causing a small smirk to form on Meegi's lips.

“I guess you're not a dragonball fan, huh?” he asked and strangely felt more at ease when the dragoness’s smile grew. “Crashed out two weeks ago. Now… now I'm off the team,” he added, his voice shifting in pitch slightly, which he quickly tried to hide with a fake cough.

“Oh damn, that's rough,” replied the dragoness with genuine concern in her eyes. With a small nod, she gestured towards the locked door. “Hey, if you can't get in, want a beer? I ain't doing shit at the moment and I've got plenty—”

“No, no, it's okay,” Meegi replied quickly and looked back at the door and the pile of bags next to it. If the dragoness gave him a moment alone, he could use magic again to open the door and say that he had remembered the code.

“Nah, come on, honey, keep an old gal company. I've got some bacon-wrapped brie, smoked herring, and enough baklava to outlast religion,” she insisted and pulled her head in the direction of her deck. “And you look like you need a good vent,” she added with a small smirk and a playful wink. Meegi was pretty sure he had misheard her and that she wasn't offering more than an ear, but after days of only talking to doctors and his mother, the idea of talking to the ‘ness who didn't care about Dragonball made him hesitate. Looking towards the bags, he realised he still had milk and bacon that needed to be refrigerated, but if he went inside he would only be spending the night watching the same television he would have been at the hospital.

“Fuck it, sure. Do you mind if I borrow your fridge, though?” Meegi asked, and when the dragoness nodded, he stepped towards the bag. “Thanks, Faarah, right?” he asked and knew he had gotten it wrong when the dragoness cocked her head and looked at him in mild amusement.

“Close. Feerah,” she explained and moved back from the fence as Meegi approached on his side. “Are you okay to hop over?” she asked, and before he understood what she had said, Meegi had already nodded.

Now committed, Meegi shifted his weight onto his good hind leg and mantled his wings. It was only a six-foot fence that he had to clear, but it still had him hesitating briefly before launching upwards with a kick. With two quick flaps, he cleared the fence and dropped down heavily on the other side. His landing was far from graceful, and although he stumbled, he managed to catch himself by dropping to a low crouch instead of falling to the ground.

Pulling himself up, he gave a small nod towards Feerah as if to say he was okay and then folded his wings by his sides. Without the fence obscuring her, Meegi could see the speckled red markings that dotted the dragoness’s body. The patterns were striking against her otherwise black scales and gave the dragoness an almost venomous look, as if she were some kind of deadly snake turned dragon. With the addition of the deep scar that ran down her cheek, she looked dangerous, and he would have definitely given her a wide berth in the street if he didn't know her already.

Catching himself looking at her for a moment too long, Meegi deliberately scanned the rest of the backyard to show he hadn't been gawking. Much had changed since he had visited last. Their deck had always been bigger than his own, but now it sported an arrangement of outdoor ovens, grills, a smoker and another cooking apparatus Meegi didn't recognise. Additionally, a granite countertop formed an L-shape, with the largest side sheltered by the eaves of the house, under which a pair of glass-doored fridges hummed quietly with white lights revealing the bottles inside. “I like what you've done with the place,” he mused politely, earning a scoff from the dragoness.

“Oh, this was the boy's handiwork. Nuut did a write-up in his magazine and then the companies started giving him stuff,” Feerah mused as she turned around and stepped up onto their timber deck. “Then my brother just had to build a whole kitchen outside,” she added and nodded towards the fridges. “Chuck your stuff in there if you want and help yourself to a drink.”

Padding up onto the deck, Meegi couldn't help but notice how the boards were in far better condition than the ones on his own deck, each plank oiled while still showing the natural wood grain. Passing the smoker, his nostrils flared as they took in the scent of something within the black, cast-iron contraption. Opening the fridge, there was just enough room to place his groceries among the tall bottles of beer and spirits. He paused briefly when he saw his own face looking back at him from one of the bottles and felt his chest tighten. Despite claiming not to be a Cresties fan, she was now staring at a complete set of bottles showing the entire team, or at least the composition the team had been when he had crashed. Reaching into the fridge, he pushed the bottles aside and snagged a bottle of lemonade with a claw before pulling it out and closing the door.

Turning around, Meegi transferred the bottle to his mouth so that he could walk on three legs and avoid placing weight on his cast-riddled leg. “‘Ohts ookin’?” he asked through his teeth as he passed the smoker and gave his folded wing a small jerk in its direction when the dragoness looked back at him in confusion. She had set herself up with a nest of cushions in a small circle and lay with her forelegs bracketing a bottle of rum and a thick book.

“What's cooking?” she asked and shrugged her wings when he nodded. “It's meat, a cow… I think. I'm just in charge of watching it,” she mused, her brilliant blue eyes tracking his every move. When he came closer, the dragoness grabbed a large cushion from beside her and slid it across for him to use. “Lemonade… really?”

“I'm not much of a drinker,” Meegi replied once he had placed the glass bottle beside the cushion. Lying down with the rigid cast was never graceful, and after heaving it off to one side, he bent his other hind leg and half flopped, half fell down onto the side of his rump while keeping his forelegs extended. Sitting somewhat awkwardly, he adjusted his tail a few times to try and get comfortable before giving up and lying down on his front like the dragoness. “Still getting used to it,” he mused when he looked at the dragoness and saw a look of amusement on her snout.

“Looks like it. So they gave you the boot just because you busted your leg, huh?” she asked, and Meegi found it easier just to nod than explain the nuances. “Cunts,” she added flatly and collected her bottle in her forepaw. Extending it towards Meegi, her eyes flicked to his drink and gave him a small nod. It took Meegi a second to realise what she wanted, and after shifting his weight to one side, he picked up his bottle and clicked its neck against hers. “I’m guessing they were paying you well, though, given your face is on my bottle,” Feerah added and lifted two digits away from her bottle to reveal a picture of Meegi looking focused while mid-turn, ball clutched in one forepaw and the other pointing towards something out of frame.

“Yeah… they paid me pretty well,” Meegi admitted and twisted the cap off his bottle. A warning hiss rushed out of the neck, and Meegi kept his paw clamped over the opening for a few seconds while watching the rush of bubbles. Only when he was confident that it wouldn't overflow did he relax his paw and look back across at the sprawled dragoness. “So, I guess it could be worse,” he added with a forced smile.

The dragoness seemed to see right through his attempt to play down the situation, and as she took a swig of her bottle, she looked at him with a look of concern. Humming in acknowledgement as she swallowed, she put down her glass and tilted her head as she spoke. “So, why isn't a fit, handsome and wealthy drake like yourself currently knot-deep in his mate right now?” she asked while Meegi took a sip.

The sudden intake of breath had him inhale his fizzy lemonade, causing it to burn and sting his windpipe. Instantly he curled his neck down into a tight arch and started coughing loudly to clear his throat. His reaction only seemed to amuse the dragoness, and in the corner of his vision he saw her pearly white fangs become exposed in a cheeky grin. Heaving one last time, Meegi swallowed his drink and then gasped for air. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me. Look at you!” Feerah mused and bent her neck to get a better look at him while he lay on his side. “Lean, mean, and probably not the type to get out of breath after a few humps. So what gives?”

“Thanks… I think,” Meegi replied while shaking his head to dismiss the question. Her brashness and unapologetic nature made a smile form on his lips and began to erode his reservations. He didn't answer her right away and lowered his head down to his drink before flicking his eyes to her to make sure she wasn't about to say something. Seeing her mischievous grin, he chuckled before taking a quick sip. Letting the cool and fizzy liquid run down his throat, Meegi saw that the dragoness was looking at him as if still waiting for his reply. “Tiiph and I broke up. Her dad is the owner of the team, so it would have been weird,” he added finally.

He expected sympathy, a gentle “oh that sucks,” maybe even a “poor Meegi.” Instead, the dragoness simply shrugged her wings. “An adoring fan then?” she asked, catching Meegi off guard. “Just saying, a superstar like you could probably rock up at a sports bar and end up with a ‘ness under each wing,” she continued as she lifted her bottle and then gestured with it towards his hind end. “Even with your dicky leg.”

“That’s not really my thing,” Meegi replied while tucking his wings closer to his sides. The gesture wasn't missed by the dragoness, whose eyes only briefly flicked towards his sides before focusing on his face once more. Even though she lay with her hips turned so both legs sprawled to the side, she was alert, and Meegi couldn't help but feel like she was somehow interrogating him without asking questions.

“How do you know?” Feerah asked with a glint in her eyes. “Best way to get over someone is to get on someone else, or are you hoping she will take you back?” she asked and turned her head to nod towards his broken leg. “Don’t tell me she was only with you because you played for daddy’s team,” she added casually before he could reply.

Her casual remark cut deeper than Meegi expected, and his hesitation wasn't missed by the dragoness. “It's… complicated,” Meegi replied finally, hoping that the ambiguity would change the subject. However, it did nothing but intensify the dragoness’s attention, and she turned her body to lie further on her side and focus on him as if waiting for a real explanation. “Maybe it was a bit of that,” he admitted finally, more for himself than anyone else. Saying the words out loud, and feeling a small chunk of his frustration ease caught Meegi by surprise.

“Damn, so was she a ten? Or just a good lay?” Feerah mused, her expression feigning seriousness before a wicked smirk pulled at her snout. “’Cos she sounds as thick as two bricks, letting a handsome drake like you go!” she added. Meegi couldn't stop himself from smiling as he shook his head at his neighbors' attempts at cheering him up. His snout burned in embarrassment at how forward the older dragoness was, but he didn't take any offence. “Well? What did that bitch have going for her that has you not getting up under every tail in the city, even after she dumped you?”

This made Meegi splutter before lifting a paw. “Hold on, she didn't dump me—”

“Oh, so you dumped her, did you? Is that why you're off the team?” Feerah asked before gesturing to his leg with her bottle. “Daddy wasn't happy you broke his little angel’s heart—”

“No, no, I got kicked off the team because of this,” Meegi interrupted and flicked his tail towards his broken leg. “But I guess it was kind of a mutual breakup,” he admitted. Even if it had been her father who had instigated it, the last few days hadn't had him pining for her company, and he had begun to accept that their relationship hadn't been like others.

“Sorry to hear you got dumped,” Feerah teased. Judging by her knowing grin and the way her tail flicked to emphasise her joke, he knew she didn't have any malice behind it, and as he replayed what he had said, calling it mutual was generous at best. “So, Meegi. Single and ready to mingle, huh?” she asked and reached beside her to collect a plate. Laid out in a circle were a collection of meaty discs, each one a parcel wrapped in crispy bacon with cheese oozing through the gaps.

“I wouldn't say that,” Meegi corrected her and leaned forwards to inspect the plate. Looking closer, the bacon had been laced over and under itself to create a lattice of crispy meat. “What are they?” he asked. The scent of them was incredible in the most unhealthy way, and without waiting for her reply he picked one up with a paw.

“Feerah’s wheels. Never a party without them,” Feerah replied as if it answered his question. Tilting it from side to side in his paw, Meegi inspected the delicious-smelling parcel before taking a small bite and looking at the cross-section. Humming in enjoyment, Meegi tasted the gooey cheese mixed with caramelised onions, chives and crispy bacon. The blend had him taking another bite before he had swallowed, this time breaking off half of the wheel. “Made them myself, in the air fryer, just to prove a point,” Feerah added and gestured with a folded wing to all of the elaborate cooking equipment that filled the deck.

“It’s good!” Meegi concluded before finishing off the disc of cheese and bacon. Chuckling as he swallowed, Meegi flashed her a smirk. “Feerah’s wheels, I get it,” he added, and when he glanced down at the plate, the dragoness gave him a nod of approval.

“So, if you're not single and ready to mingle, and you don't look like you're moping over Tiiph, that must mean that you've got a new gal lined up!” Feerah said with a toothy grin. “What's her name? Or his name? Unlike dragonball, nothing wrong with playing for both teams—” her words were cut short when Meegi snorted in amusement and her grin turned into an open-mouthed smile. “I’m guessing it ain't a human. Just a guess, of course, but you don't seem the type—”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone,” Meegi clarified after swallowing his mouthful of the second cheese wheel. “I honestly don't know what I'm doing, just resting my leg and watching television for the next few weeks…” he added, with a sourness in his voice that he meant to hold back.

“Something tells me that isn't what you want to do,” Feerah mused and took one of the bacon-covered cheese wheels for herself. “You don't play for the Cresties if you'd rather be on the couch eating snacks.”

“Yeah, but I'm not playing for them anymore,” Meegi replied while looking at what remained of his second cheese wheel. “So the couch kinda sounds good. Better than nothing, right?”

“No… no, it's not,” the dragoness replied with more sincerity in her voice than he expected. Looking up, he caught her looking at him with an almost pained expression before she looked down and took a sip of her drink. “The couch is where dreams go to die. Sure, while you're healing it's probably not too bad, but you've got a lot going for you—” Meegi dismissed her with a wave of his paw, but the dragoness didn't relent and turned her head back to look at him directly. “I ain't just blowing smoke up your tailhole. You've got a lot going for you. Looks, money, fame. I’d go out on a limb and say that you've probably got a good brain between those horns, but that's not for sure just yet.” She continued in an attempt to make him smile, but when he averted his gaze, she simply shrugged her wings. “You could do a lot with the cards you've been dealt.”

“Thanks, but I don't know. Dragonball was kind of everything. Tiiphani was…” His words drifted off as he tried to articulate how he really felt about the dragoness. “Tiiphani was Tiiphani. But now I'm back to square one,” he admitted and finished his second cheese wheel before licking his digits clean of the bacon grease. Despite there still being plenty more of the delicious treats on the plate between them, he knew they were far too unhealthy to consider an actual meal.

“Word of advice?” Feerah asked, but continued without waiting for him to reply. “It's only square one if you’re going to play the same game again,” she explained before rolling further onto her front and picking up her bottle between her teeth. Lifting her head up and back, she finished the remaining half in one gulp before putting the empty glass back down on the deck. “So tell me, Meegi, once that cast is off, are you going to be chasing after some other owner's daughter? Or doing something else?”

Meegi lifted his wings to shrug, but paused as the dragoness shifted. He heard the joints in her legs click as she lifted herself up onto all fours and began to pad her way towards the fridge. “Probably something else,” he admitted quietly and tracked the dragoness as she nodded while walking.

“Then that's good! Means you don't have to follow your own footsteps. You can do whatever you want, and if you're not trying to get back with Tiiph, then you can do it with whoever you want. Given that you seem the type to only keep one gal on your books,” Feerah explained while lowering her head and collecting a fresh bottle from the fridge. “You sure you don't want a drink?”

Sensing the dragoness may push him further, Meegi shook his head and cleared his throat. “Maybe another time. I'm not meant to with the meds and all,” he explained and collected his drink to finish it.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Those hangovers can be brutal,” she replied and, after a brief clatter of glass, turned around with a fresh bottle of rum and another bottle of lemonade held between the digits of one forepaw. Despite walking on three legs, the dragoness somehow still moved with an elegance that stood out to Meegi. It wasn't a provocative strut, but an effortless walk, as though she was carrying the glasses across a busy ballroom. “So, not dragonball, something else. Whatcha thinking?” she probed as she placed his fresh bottle between his forepaws.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Meegi mused after dipping his head in thanks. Collecting the bottle, he rolled it between his forepaws and enjoyed the feeling of the cool, wet glass against his pads. “I kind of wish I did. Maybe go to college, I kinda skipped that,” he added softly as the dragoness lay down again. When Feerah looked at him expectantly, he shrugged his wings and cracked open the bottle. “No idea what I’d study, though. Dragonball was always what I was looking forward to. Seems strange now.”

A small silence hung between them before the dragoness inhaled deeply through her nose. “For me it was the military. It was kind of a tradition in my family. Every generation has at least one of us serving in some capacity, going all the way back to the Seventeenth Light Dragons of the British Redcoats. So come high school, I kinda knew Zuurah wasn't going to make the cut and I stepped up,” she explained before twisting the cap off her bottle with the palm of her paw and then watching the bubbles rise. “Hoo-raar,” she added under her breath.

“You were in the military too?” Meegi asked, quickly gaining a new appreciation for the scars that dotted the dragoness’s body and cheek. Feerah nodded as she took a deep swig of her drink. “That’s cool. I don't think I could do that, though. I think I'm allergic to getting shot. Makes me unwell,” he added in an attempt to make a joke before drinking from his own bottle.

“Oh, I don't think you would have to worry about getting shot,” she chuckled with a renewed smile that made Meegi tilt his head. “I think if you enlisted now, you would be signed up for every PR, photo op, recruitment drive and television ad under the sun. Hell, if I was your drill sergeant, I wouldn't bother assigning you a bunk. Every night would have you in a different barracks bunny’s rack. If you were very lucky, maybe they would deploy you, but probably to entertain the troops with pickup games of Dragonball at FOBs out of harm's way.”

“Well… I'll scratch that off the list then,” Meegi replied while taking another sip. The idea of being paraded around like some prized animal without a say in the matter was degrading, and the fact that likely every job would be similar sent a chill down his spine. “I’m not sure I really want to be doing a job where I'm really just Meegi, the former Dragonball player. Or if I had to, then I'd prefer if I got a say on how things were done.”

“Yeah, skip the military then. You usually have to be pretty high up before people trust ya enough not to eat the forbidden Play-Doh.” Feerah's eyes momentarily went unfocused as if she was remembering something in her distant past. “And besides, if you did manage to get into some shit… well, most don't get out with just a broken leg.”

“You seemed to come out okay.”

“Aw, thanks honey, but that's because I was the best at what I did,” Feerah boasted proudly, curling her neck back as her chest puffed out in an exaggerated pose. “If I did my job, the bad guys would never know I was their enemy and, in more cases than you'd think, they would even go out of their way to get me to safety if shit went south,” Feerah replied with a sinister smile that made Meegi pause.

“You make that sound like you were some kind of spy or something,” Meegi said while contemplating another bacon-wrapped cheese wheel. He knew that he shouldn't, but they had been delicious, and he hadn't eaten anything for dinner other than a light, tasteless meal before he left the hospital.

“That was only half of it. First in, last out. That was our jam. We would rock up, usually as tourists or as a movie crew, to scope out locations of interest. Get friendly with the locals, learn what we could, often weeks before things became publicly hostile between us and them. You'd be surprised how many warlords would flaunt their stash of arms when you tell them you need a set for filming some war movie that has a hero looking like them. Ask them for extras? They will rally their forces into one spot to help out, as long as we promise them a bit of screen time in the next Hollywood blockbuster,” Feerah explained before swallowing a small belch and shaking her head. “Oh, and thank fuck for Star Wars, hey. Make a movie with a desert or jungle planet and suddenly every hellhole is all good for us to scope locations for the sequels,” she added with a laugh that morphed into a nostalgic chuckle before she paused to take another deep breath. “But I'm the exception. Most that get out alive are fucked up in more than one way. Most leave missing a limb or their marbles, sometimes all both.”

Meegi nodded sympathetically. He had already committed to the idea of not joining the military, but it was nice to listen to someone else talking about something other than Dragonball. “My doctor was a Marine. He was pretty cool,” he continued, and when Feerah nodded absentmindedly, Meegi reset his wings and looked down at his drink. “Used magic to patch me up, which was pretty wild.” His addition was meant to be just an offhand comment to fill the silence that was growing, but his eyes flicked to her as she jerked her head back suddenly.

“A Delta who could do magic, huh?” Feerah asked and cocked her head. “He didn't happen to have green scales, did he?”

“Yeah. You know him? Doctor Keenis?”

“Mmmm… Never got his name, but I think I might have seen him once…” she said with a distance in her voice and looked through Meegi with unfocused eyes. The moment dragged on in silence as Meegi expected her to elaborate on how she knew the drake, but instead she simply paused in thought. “Ha… well how about that,” she added and composed herself once again. “He seemed okay?”

Shrugging his wings, Meegi hummed in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I think so. He had all his wings and limbs. He was my favourite doctor there by far. The others were kind of fans and I don't know… made it weird. You know what I mean?”

“No,” Feerah retorted with a snort and shook her head. “Can't say I do,” she added before shrugging her wings. “But I guess it would be weird having a fan poke and prod your bits without it being for a good cause. Now if it was for a good cause—”

“Feerah, no,” Meegi snapped with a growing smirk on his snout. He knew she was only trying to rile him up and pulled his wings closer to his sides. “I don't know if I could be in a relationship with a fan. They wouldn't really know me, only Meegi the Dragonball player. And I’m not really the drake that marketing made up.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Feerah countered while shrugging her wings. “Not every ‘ness is at the club to find their forever friend. The way I see it is that you've got a limited time to use your fame for fun. And if you're not looking to get back with your ex, and you've got nothing lined up… fuck it, hit the clubs, find some cute ‘nesses that want to have a good time and see where it takes you!” she continued. “Hell, come past the gym on a Thursday night and you'd probably pick up.”

Meegi turned to look at the dragoness and flicked his eyes up and down her length. She was athletic, but in a mature and practical way, not in the way that some bodybuilders focused exclusively on their flight muscles to have a disproportionately broad chest. “Are you like a personal trainer or something?”

“Some days. Security, PT, life coach, but more specifically I teach defensive ‘ness every Thursday night,” Feerah explained before lifting her bottle up and dipping her snout towards it. “Self-defence for the average ‘ness. Once you're better you should come down. We are always after volunteer drakes to beat up,” she added with a smirk.

“Yeah, I don't know about that,” Meegi said hesitantly. He was all for dragonesses being able to defend themselves in an ugly situation, but he knew that one out-of-context photo pretending to try to take advantage of a ‘ness would be disastrous. Not only to his own image, but it would no doubt reflect back on the Cresties, and he didn't want to give them any reason to start drama with them. Taking a quick sip of his drink, Meegi looked at the dragoness and tried to shift the focus away from him. “That's pretty cool though. I guess self-defence is probably nothing compared to what you're used to, though.”

“It's different, but some nights it's a struggle,” she replied before shrugging one wing. “Unfortunately, most new members come with a horror story or two, and the pay isn't worth it most nights,” she continued while rocking her bottle from side to side and watching the liquid roll over itself. “But then you see them apply what you've been teaching them… yeah, that makes it worth it,” Feerah added and looked up towards Meegi. “Seeing them out in the club on a Friday is also good, especially knowing they can hold their own if their date goes south.”

“There are some creeps out there,” Meegi added sympathetically. “That's pretty cool though, training people. I could see how that would be rewarding.”

“Yeah, it's good when it works. Heartbreaking when they drop out because they want to give their dropped-egg boyfriend another chance and he doesn't think she should do the classes,” Feerah hissed with a pained grimace and turned her head to look at the large smoker. Squinting slightly, she focused intently before rising to all fours again. Padding over towards it, her eyes remained locked on the temperature gauge on top. “I thought it smelt different…” she muttered under her breath before hooking a talon under a small drawer in the side and sliding it open. Meegi watched and waited as the dragoness opened a container under the contraption and shoveled more wood chips into the hopper with a stainless-steel scoop.

“Can I help?” Meegi offered, but was dismissed with a swish of the dragoness’s tail and a grunt. She continued to scoop another load of wood chips before closing the drawer and adjusting a lever on the side of the smoker.

“Keep it under two forty, Feerah…” she whined under her breath in a nasal voice before turning around and padding back to her cushions. “My brother’s mate can be a bit particular. Can't drop below two thirty, but has to be below two forty. And heaven forbid it runs out of precious wood chips…” she complained before lying down with an exaggerated flop.

“It smells good though. I'm sure it will be worth it,” Meegi offered and chuckled when the dragoness rolled her eyes while taking a drink from her bottle. “Where is your brother anyway?”

“Oh, out doing some lame gay shit,” Feerah said with a gasp after she swallowed the alcohol. Meegi frowned at the dragoness. He had assumed that she was okay with her brother being interested in drakes, but now started to have his doubts. “What? It’s genuinely some lame, gay shit. My brother got tickets to some woodworking convention down south. That's the lame bit. All while spending a few nights in a hotel with Nuut, that's the gay bit,” she explained before lifting her bottle to take another sip. Lowering her head, she laughed before forcing some semblance of composure. “Probably working Nuut’s wood each night—” she added with another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, okay… that sounds pretty gay,” Meegi added with a small chuckle. “So you're cooking just for you—”

“Oh hell no. As good as this is, way too much effort for my tastes. If I wanted something like this, I would get someone else to do it for me. No, they get back tomorrow around lunchtime. But this is a twenty-four-hour slow roast thing, so I'm just on guard duty,” Feerah explained. Meegi hadn't heard of anyone stealing meat from a smoker, but given how its delicious smells hung in the air like a fog, he could see someone doing it. “And only because it's my turn to visit the folks next, and I made him promise to go instead. Dad still thinks he is straight, and that Nuut is just a housemate. It's always super tense cos mom knows, but she doesn't approve. So, one good night of keeping an eye on it, and I get to dodge that shit storm.”

“Has anyone stolen meat before? Couldn't you put a lock on it or something?” Meegi offered, but was shut down by the dragoness shaking her head.

“Nah, I need to keep the temp right and the chips filled. So, Feerah the Free is now on stove duty,” the dragoness added before sliding the plate of remaining bacon-wrapped brie towards him. “But hey, it ain't that bad. Good food, drinks, and a professional Dragonball star. I've had far worse nights,” she added before leaning further onto her side to sprawl out her hind legs while crossing her forepaws over one another. “Far, far worse.”

“I bet,” Meegi replied with a polite smile that turned more genuine. After the last two weeks of being alone or with his mother or doctors, talking with the black dragoness was like a breath of fresh air. “So… life coach, huh? How does that work?”

“Well, buy my twelve-week course and you get to find out,” Feerah said with a smile that would put a real estate agent to shame. “The first two weeks are free, but the really good stuff comes in week three,” she added with a wink, and for a moment Meegi thought she was serious before she started laughing. “Gods, your face. You were like, ‘fuck, I'm stuck here with a busted leg and she is selling me a self-help course.’ No, don't worry, it ain't like that,” Feerah explained before finishing her bottle. “No, it's more just people come to me with their problems, and I tell them to harden up and eventually they get it. Like a therapist, but less feelings and mushy shit.”

“And fewer licenses,” Meegi added and earned a grin in reply. While in hospital, he had seen fliers for various therapists and counsellors, mostly kept on display to help those suffering from genuine grief or disabilities. He hadn't taken any interest in them. After all, he could still fly and felt that losing his place on the team didn't exactly qualify as a loss in the way they intended. Now, with the dragoness across from him who seemed more genuine and pragmatic, he took a deep swig of his drink and relaxed. “Fuck it then. What would you do if you were me? Other than trying to hook up with some stranger in a bar?”

“Hey, don't get it twisted. Hooking up with someone is just to get you back in the game. It's not a long-term lifestyle for everyone, especially not a cashed-up drake at your age,” Feerah retorted and rubbed her nose with the back of her forepaw in a deliberate motion. He knew what she meant and thankfully didn't have to explain he wouldn't go near illicit drugs. “Nah, for you, it's easy. When I punched out, I had to do a bit of soul-searching. My whole life had been geared towards service life, and then I suddenly found myself a civi. From identifying strategic assets and forming resistance networks to topple countries, to standing behind some old bat at the grocery store having a bitch about not having soy-based cereal or some shit.” Saying the words out loud made the dragoness tense the muscles in her forelegs, and Meegi noticed her ivory claws extend over the edge of her cushion. “So, I had a good hard think, and I asked myself a pretty simple question: ignoring what I'm good at, what makes me happy?”

“Well, for me it's Dragonball. But—”

“Was it?” Feerah asked and turned her body so that she was facing him more directly than before. “Or is that just what you're good at?” she clarified and looked at Meegi with a focused expression. “You don't have to answer it right now, but think back. When was the last time Meegi was truly happy? And what caused him to grin like an idiot? Was it while you were doing something? A special moment? Or with someone in particular?”

“I— I'm not sure,” he said truthfully. The day that he signed on with the Cresties had been a momentous occasion, but now, looking back at it, the memory somehow felt sour. He knew he was lying back then, but had been too blinded by the opportunity to see the risks. “What if I can't think of anything?”

“You will, don't worry. It will come to you. It might be hard to think of something now, between the bunged-up leg and the painkillers. But there is surely a moment that you have really enjoyed.”

“Then what? I just do that?” Meegi asked with a hint of scepticism in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by the dragoness.

“Not exactly. Let's say you think of something that can't be done. Say Dragonball. Just like I couldn't be with my old unit again, I had to break down what it is I liked about my old job. In my case, it was watching people, coming up with stories and identities for them and then seeing if it was true. I'm a pretty good judge of character, and working security let me do bits of that. Then… well, helping a ‘ness deal with a piece of shit kinda made me like doing the whole instructor thing.”

Meegi nodded in acknowledgement while he was thinking, but struggled to find a memory that really stood out to him. His mother becoming sober came to mind, but ultimately that was her achievement, even if it did make him feel good. “I don't know… I'll have to have a think,” he said and hoped, in a small part, that maybe she would shift to another topic. He didn't like that he couldn't find something positive, and the knowledge that he had just had a life that many could only dream of left him with a sour taste of self-loathing in his mouth.

“But, in my case, I was looking for something to earn a living from. Zuurah and Nuut were kind enough to take me in, and I had some savings, but I knew I needed to get an income of sorts. For you, I'm guessing that's probably not so much of a big deal.”

“Not so much, no,” Meegi admitted self-consciously and pulled his tail around him. “I'm okay for a while in that regard.”

“Then you could do anything you wanted. Open a bar somewhere, maybe a comic book store if you're a nerd like that. Or maybe just think about who you want to spend your time with? Other than being the boss's daughter, what did you like about Tiiph?” Feerah asked with a sincerity that made it hard for him to deflect.

“Is it bad that I don't know?”

“No, that's normal. Especially right after a breakup. Though I think it's good that you're not pining for her like some schmuck. What didn't you like about her?”

“Fuck,” Meegi snorted, triggering a laugh from the dragoness who lifted herself up onto all fours.

“Okay, we are getting somewhere. Another drink?” Feerah called back to him as she made her way towards the fridge. Looking back as Meegi nodded, she collected the last two bottles of lemonade. “Let's start at the top. What was she like to be around?”

“It depends. If her father was in the room she was pretty normal. A bit stuck up, but manageable,” Meegi explained and accepted the bottle when Feerah walked past him. “But just us… yeah, that wasn't always great. And gods help me if she was with her friends…”

“Let me guess, you were the accessory to her life then. Weren't you? Something flashy for her to show off,” Feerah asked and rolled her eyes sympathetically when Meegi nodded. “But the sex was good, wasn't it?”

Meegi's snout burned at the line of questioning, and he averted his gaze. Reaching forwards, he collected a third bacon-wrapped brie cheese wheel and bit into it. It wasn't anywhere near as warm as the others, but that only made the cheese more solid and less messy. “Yeah…” Meegi replied with his mouth full and rocked his head from side to side. “Not that I have much to compare it against, but it was fine, I guess.”

“Just fine… wow, did she like to bite it or something?”

Meegi snorted a laugh and shook his head while he tried to swallow. It felt strange talking about such an intimate subject with his neighbour, but the mature ‘ness didn't shy away from the conversation and it kind of felt good to be open with someone about things too awkward to talk to his mother about. “No, she didn't do that. It was… well… I get that it's her choice, but…” his words drifted off as he tried to articulate his frustrations with his ex. “We never really went all the way—”

“Fuck off,” Feerah retorted with a growing smirk and a look of genuine surprise in her eyes. “You never got to home base? How long were you with this bitch?”

“No, I mean. I did— she did too. But like, she wouldn't want to take all of it.” He explained and raised his eye ridges to hopefully convey his meaning. Not all dragons had a knot, and while it was completely natural to have one, Meegi still felt too uncomfortable to describe himself in detail to the dragoness.

“Oh! She was one of those types,” Feerah exclaimed while tilting her head skywards. “Right, was she like saving herself for someone else or something?” she asked, and when Meegi shrugged, she shook her head. “Like sure, her body, her choice and all that, good for her. Not everyone wants to be joined at the hip for half an hour after the fact. But damn, you two were serious and you never had a proper snuggle afterwards?”

“Snuggle on occasion, but not like that,” Meegi explained and focused on the bottle cap to distract himself. “And like, I don't know if you know. But some of us can't really ‘get there’ if we aren't… in.”

“Oh sweetie, I know. Trust me. I know,” the dragoness replied with a knowing smile. “Perfectly normal and honestly a great time if they are into a bit of edging. But that's kind of a special-occasion thing. Every time would just be torture. Fuck, so she was a cunt in general and never let you finish like nature intended. Yeah, I can see why you ain't looking to get her back.”

“Like, that wasn't the only reason. I don't want to sound like I'm not keen because of that—”

“Oh, no, I get you. Dumping someone is very rarely because of one specific thing. Shit stacks up until you just have enough of it and pull the pin,” the dragoness said reassuringly and dipped her head in a small nod. “And hey, I'm just pulling your tail about getting out there and getting busy. The fact that you aren't trying to rebound into some girl's snatch is quite grown up of you. You're looking for something more, that's good of you.”

“I'm honestly… I don't think I'm looking at all,” Meegi countered with a stuffed chuckle. Unscrewing the bottle cap, he placed it alongside the others and took a sip. “I've never really asked a girl out if I'm honest. Tiiphani kinda asked me.”

“Well, when you find the right girl, just ask her. It's really that simple,” Feerah replied before extending her wing to nudge his side. “But if she says no, and I hear that you didn't listen… you'll wish it was just one leg in a cast.”

“Oh no, I ain't like that,” Meegi retorted quickly while pulling his head back and shaking it rapidly. “Hell no. But I don't know, meeting a ‘ness while I'm unemployed feels weird. Call me old-fashioned, but I always kinda saw myself taking care of a ‘ness or something. I don't know—”

“Well now, did that go with Tiiph? Something tells me she was kinda the breadwinner,” Feerah asked, making Meegi scratch his foreleg with a paw. It was true; while he had earned a lot, it was only thanks to her family's wealth. “But I wouldn't get your horns in a twist about who earns more than who. It ain't like the olden days, and trust me, many girls don't want to be dependent on a guy for everything. Unless you want some ditzy bimbo who can't buy their own lunch unless some sugar daddy takes them out.”

The idea repulsed Meegi, and he couldn't stop the snort of disgust from escaping his nostrils. “No, no, I don't want that. Anything but that.”

“You sure? I could see it. Cashed-up Meegi who doesn't have to work, a harem of dragonesses who take turns sharing the brain cell,” she teased despite Meegi staring back at her with a firm expression. “No? Well good, I'm glad. You're in a good spot, Meegi, even if it might not feel that way. I'm sure that whatever you do next will be just as amazing as playing for the Cresties,” she added with a reassuring wink. “Just find what makes you happy, and find someone to pay you for it. You can do anything you want, Meegi. The world is your oyster. You could be a fireman, feed the homeless, write a book, travel. Anything! You could do anything... Anything with anyone you wanted.”

“Thanks,” Meegi mused, but when he looked down at his bottle, the gravity of what she was saying rang true. Yes, for the next few years fans might recognise him and ask him the same question every one of them did, but that would fade. “Thanks, Feerah,” he repeated and looked back up with a genuine smile. A pressure lifted slightly from his mind as he contemplated what he might want to do next and began to slowly understand that being dropped from the team was actually somewhat liberating.

“Always glad to be of service,” Feerah replied warmly before her eyes widened. “Baklava! I had Baklava. Want some?” she asked excitedly, making Meegi chuckle. It had been years since he had indulged in so much junk food, but he nodded without hesitation.

---

Pressing the bridge of her snout against the door to her apartment, Reeva fumbled with the access card until she heard the reader click and then pushed the door open. Pale blue light rippled across the ceiling and walls of the open-plan room, as the large aquarium that ran the length of the living room wall bubbled away. Walking on three legs, she kept one forepaw pressed to her shoulder as she held the weight of the splitting grocery bag. She swore they must be making the plastic thinner, as she hadn't overloaded the bag, yet when she landed, one of the onions she had purchased had fallen through a split in the bottom. Without pausing to turn the lights on, she hobbled over to the low kitchen table and hunched over it before beginning to unhook her shopping. Halfway between its journey from the hook on her harness to the table, the bag gave up all hope and released its contents. With a clatter of thuds, potatoes, onions, half a watermelon and a dozen apples all fell and scattered across the table. Adding to her frustration, a sharp buzz and a ding came from her phone, its screen briefly illuminating with an unread message.

Exhaling a defeated sigh, Reeva unhooked the second bag from the other side of her harness and placed it down before carefully backing up. Despite her keen eyesight, the fruit could easily blend in with the carpet in the dark, and the last thing she wanted to do was clean up a squashed apple because she stepped on it. Clear of the mess, she turned around in a tight circle and padded towards the light switch. Stretching out a wing, she nudged the controls and the cool white lights throughout the apartment gently glowed to life. Compared to the one her parents now rented out, her one-bedroom studio apartment was cramped and small. To her, however, it was home. Large enough to stretch her wings out to full extension without touching the walls, yet small enough that she didn't have to waste all weekend cleaning. Nestled in a cluster of modern apartment buildings, her parents had been more than happy to purchase the unit for her as a gift for graduating from university. From her front door to the office was a good half-hour flight if the winds weren't against her, but she enjoyed that time to decompress after work and create a barrier between her home life and work.

Seeing the aftermath of the split bag, and that some of the produce had managed to roll almost halfway down the hallway that led to her bedroom and bathroom, she quickly set to work and counted each of the fruits and vegetables to make sure none had been missed. In the corner of her eye, she could see the colourful cloud of fish swarming in the corner closest to her, their vacant round eyes looking at her expectantly. “Oh, I'm getting there, I'm getting there…” she called back towards the fish and lifted up the cushion she used as a kitchen chair to check if any had managed to get under it. Another ding came from her phone, but it was just a message and she made a mental note to look at it later. “Everyone is so needy today,” she muttered under her breath.

Her day had been occupied with more planning for the upcoming gala, and she had been trying to create a seating plan that made sure the important senators and lawmakers were in optimal seats based on their interests and political opinions. They wanted each group to enjoy their night and the company of the handful of B-list celebrities they had managed to convince to attend, all without sparking a political debate between the table members. It had been going fine until her boss had sprung a last-minute special guest, one who meant she had to go back through the guest list to see who the new addition would influence the most. It almost felt like she was arranging dates for everyone, but en masse and for people who were, for the most part, already happily married.

“And… gotcha,” she added as she collected the last of the fruit from the floor and added it to the pile on the table. “Now stay,” she added before reaching into the second bag to produce a small cucumber. Carrying it in her mouth, she walked over towards the fish tank and chuckled as they all began excitedly swimming at her, despite the glass being in the way. Sitting down on her haunches, she collected a small rock with an elastic band around it and then took the cucumber from her mouth. “Well, I'm glad someone is happy to see me. Did you all play nice at school today?” she added, scoffing a small laugh, as she repeated her father's bad joke. Careful not to let her talons snag the elastic band, she secured the fresh vegetable to the weight and placed it beside the tank.

Lurking at the back of the tank, a sucker fish almost a foot long and bristling with armoured scales stared at her with unblinking eyes as she collected the regular fish food. Measuring a scoop out, Reeva sprinkled the pellets across the surface and watched the frenzy unfold. In an instant, the colourful fish went from trying to swim closer to her to suddenly darting around one another in order to catch the falling food. “Don't worry, Bruce, I've got you covered,” Reeva mused as the dark brown sucker fish flicked its tail and began to glide across the bottom of the tank towards the commotion. Lifting the weighted cucumber to the surface, Reeva checked to make sure he wasn't directly below it before dropping the fresh food into the tank. Before it had even made it to the bottom, the large sucker fish had latched its circular mouth onto the green vegetable and had begun to chomp down on it. Each bite scratched off chunks of the dark green skin to reveal the pale flesh below, and once it had come to rest at the bottom of the tank, the fish aligned itself with it possessively and munched away, while its colourful tank mates continued to forage through the pellets.

Reeva continued to watch her fish eat while sitting on her haunches until another ding came from her phone. This one was different, a softer beep as a gentle reminder that she had missed messages to attend to. She ignored it for a few seconds as she enjoyed the display of colours from her fish, before lifting her foreleg and glancing down at the messages she'd received. She had expected an email from her boss with a list of activities to think about ahead of tomorrow, or a joke from her father, or maybe a long-winded message from her mother about the adventures they were having. Instead, it was a series of text messages from a number she didn't recognise. The banner on the phone's lock screen didn't show the whole message, but it didn't look like spam, and with a quick tap, she unlocked her phone and read the series of messages.

“Hey, do you remember that time we went flying together? I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go flying together sometime. I really enjoyed it, and it kinda stuck with me.”

“It's Meegi, by the way.”

“From school. We could also get a coffee or something after, if you're free.”