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Two points. That was all that had separated the Cresties from the Sailfins when the final buzzer had gone off. Before the game, the odds were heavily in the Cresties' favour, and everyone had thought that it was going to be a thrashing where they could claw back some championship points. Instead, they had lost and were now facing the real possibility of not having enough points to make it to the grand final. The gravity of the situation wasn't missed by Meegi as he sat on his haunches and looked down on the city from the penthouse balcony. The mid-morning sun warmed his scales, while the cool city air washed over him. At this altitude, there was next to no noise from the millions of city folk going about their weekend activities. Only the occasional siren managed to rise up to Meegi's ears, and even then it sounded more akin to a soft whine than an emergency. It was a Saturday, the morning after their defeat, and what should have been a day to relax and recover now felt stifled by the looming team meetings that were being hastily scheduled. He knew that the team's analysts and coaches would be reviewing the game from every angle to try and work out where they had fallen short right now, while Haanith and other members of the administration team would be in talks with the team's sponsors to reassure them of their investments.

Tiiphani was home, although Meegi had woken up in an empty bed and only knew she was in the penthouse because he had heard her talking loudly on the phone from her father's home study. He tried to keep his distance from the dragoness. As her father's assistant, and somewhat Meegi's manager, she was always busy after a game, but far more irritable after a loss than a victory. Likewise, her father had been dangerously quiet after the match, which hadn't sat well with Meegi, even though he had scored the most points out of all of the claimers. It was the first game after Looran had been attacked, and Meegi could tell that her head wasn't quite in the game. Her tackles lacked the ferocity she normally had, and when she had been intercepted while carrying a ball, she had immediately dropped it when the other player swiped at her neck. Fiital had flown well, but was out of position on more than one occasion as he tried to assist Looran in intercepts, leaving Meegi to fly without anyone to pass to and having to try and outfly the Sailfins claimers as best he could. Likewise, on the few occasions Fiital had captured a ball, he had always seemed distracted by what Looran was doing and, when intercepted, passed the ball to Meegi with horrible aim. In Meegi's opinion, the team had played like they weren't a cohesive unit, and it was only thanks to the skill of their brooders and luck, that they hadn’t lost by a larger margin.

The breeze rippled the mane of hair that grew from the top of Meegi's neck as he craned his head over the edge of the balcony and looked down at the streets far below. There was something comforting about looking over the drop and the land beneath, a sort of security that came with the knowledge that he could use the altitude to escape where he was and fly far away without exerting himself. Meegi mused that it was probably a feeling shared amongst all creatures capable of flight and likely drove birds to squabble over the top perch in a tree. Shuffling his wings subconsciously, Meegi’s mind drifted to the furthest reaches of the city and what it would be like to leave this life behind. With a step, he could fall off the balcony and spread his wings, and he guessed he could probably make it halfway across the business district without needing to beat his wings once. If he travelled west, the wind would be at his back and carry him further, but he paused as he glanced to his left and began to measure out where his sink rate would take him. It was a traitorous thought that had come from somewhere in his mind he hadn't expected.

Blinking suddenly and pulling his wings in tight against his sides, he pushed the idea aside and looked around himself. He was a Crestie, and while they had lost, he was still at the pinnacle of the sport he loved and living in a penthouse he would never have dreamed of visiting, let alone calling home.

Fidgeting a talon against the granite pavers that tiled the balcony, he scratched at a small indentation that caused him to look down. Frowning, Meegi noticed four small circles in the tile and, when he looked along the edge of the balcony, saw that there were multiple sets running along it. Each of the small circles was almost flush with the surface of the tile and matched the colour well; however, variations in the stone’s pattern made them noticeable now that he was looking for them. The small circles closest to the edges of the tiles had begun to crack over time, leaving small veins of darker stone that traced from the grout to the stone plugs that filled the holes. Trying to work out why they were there became a helpful distraction from reality, and he began to wonder if they were for some sort of antennae or communications array. Being the tallest tower in the city, it would make sense for the northern spire to have some sort of repeater, although the fact that it was on the penthouse’s balcony dismissed that idea. Likewise, the thought that they were once used for some sort of window-washing equipment didn’t seem plausible for the same reasons. Looking across to the other spires and their penthouses, Meegi’s lips curled into a smile as he realised that the northern building was the only one without a balcony guardrail.

His small mental victory was short-lived as the swoosh of a sliding door opening flattened his smile. Turning his head slightly to look back, he saw Tiiphani emerging from the residence with a tense look on her crimson snout. “Heya…” he started, but curled his tail around his paws when she stared at him while striding towards him.

“Just don’t,” she replied, and moved to sit a few feet away from him at the edge of the balcony. She was close enough to be polite, but too far away to invite any sort of affection from him. “Do you have any idea how bad things are?” she asked, without any inflection to suggest she wanted an answer. “Four of our sponsors are pulling out after Looran’s performance, and another two are threatening to leave if we don’t pull some magic out of our tailholes next game.”

“Well hey, I know that Looran didn’t play her best, but she has it in her–”

“Does she?” Tiiphani snapped back sharply, and Meegi could see a venom in her eyes that made him shrink back. “The bitch had been nagging to get on the primaries for years. Now she’s fumbling like a rookie. If we put her back into reserves, she won’t be worth much at the end of the season, but she just cost us a couple million in sponsors.”

Hearing his mate talk about his teammate in such a cold, calculating way made Meegi’s jaw tighten as he looked back over the city. “There will be other sponsors–”

“Yeah, but we have standards, Meegi,” Tiiphani replied with a huff, shaking her head before fishing her phone out of her slim harness. “Standards that are slipping…” she added under her breath as she set the phone down and began tapping at the screen. “Stop looking at the view,” she said bluntly while she worked her phone, causing Meegi to turn his head and refocus on her with a frown. “It makes you look poor.”

She was angry, that much was obvious, and was lashing out as she always did after a loss. He knew that it would be easier to just hum in agreement and roll over, but his confusion got the better of him. “It’s a good view, what’s wrong with looking at it?” he asked, recoiling his neck when she let out a small huff and flicked her eyes up to glare at him. “What? Because it’s free, I can’t enjoy it?”

“Because if you were actually from money, you would be used to it. So like I said, it makes you look poor,” she retorted flatly before shaking her body in a shiver to dismiss the topic, then focusing back on her phone. “I’ve managed to fill your schedule tomorrow. The few sponsors who aren’t pulling out want more from you. So I’ve got you doing a photo shoot at eight until ten for Call Bets, and then again four to five for Sports Wins. In between, you will be heading past radio 2G5 for a breakdown of the game with Baarfy and the Twerk. Sarah will be sending you a brief, please just stick to the script. At three, you’re signing flags, your signature is too weird for the marketing team to fake. Then at six we have a new sponsor who wants you as their ambassador. They’ve booked out a bar across town and want to meet you, as well as do a preliminary shoot for their socials.” She rattled on, making Meegi force a lungful of air to try and calm himself. For a Sunday, his day was looking to have become very busy, and he knew that the week afterwards wouldn’t be any better.

“So a quiet Sunday then…” he mused sarcastically and offered a token smirk, only for her to scoff and shake her head.

“Winners get quiet Sundays…” she hissed and swiped a paw across the screen to scroll. “I’ve sent them all to your phone, so don’t miss anything. There is also a backlog of video messages we need you to record. I’ve locked out an hour to do them, but try to fit them in whenever you get a moment. You haven’t done any in three days. Members love that sort of shit, and we need to limit this damage. I’d suggest you get onto them today.” Tiiphani continued, and Meegi huffed in acknowledgement. For the medium and higher tiers of membership, fans would receive what was meant to be a personalised message from the team members. In reality, they had all been given a dozen different sanitised scripts they could read from, but would try to at least include the fan’s name to make it feel more real. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to record himself making videos for his fans, but the fact that it was so scripted and fake got under his scales.

“I’ll do some today, and I’ll be on top of them all by tomorrow evening,” Meegi replied, then frowned. “Who was the new sponsor? The one at five—”

“Six. Six pm, and don’t be late,” Tiiphani scolded while tightening her wings against her sides. The gesture wasn’t missed by the drake, who lifted his head slightly and looked at her sceptically. She was a good liar, but already he knew that she was holding something back that she knew he wouldn’t like. Her eyes flicked to meet his briefly before she inhaled and sighed deeply. “Brown-Forman. They’re a beverage company that makes a variety of drinks–”

“What kind of drinks, Tiif?” Meegi asked, but already knew the answer by the way her eyes hid from his. His aversion to alcohol had already been explained to Tiiphani and her father, the latter of whom had become very accommodating. Haanith had said that, as an athlete, it was better that he stay away from alcohol anyway; however, he also knew that all brand deals were signed off by the team’s owner. If this meeting had been arranged, Haanith knew about it and had endorsed it, showing either the team’s desperation or a lack of care for his personal reservations.

“Whisky, rum, vodka, mixers. That sort of thing. They’re bringing some real money to the table, which will help,” Tiiphani replied before clearing her throat. “It will only take an hour or so. They just had a merger and the new owners are big fans, so smile and be ready to sign some shit–”

“I ain’t doing it,” Meegi said firmly and lashed his tail behind him in frustration. “Get Looran or Fiital to do it if you have to,” he added, before calming his tail and curling it tighter around his paws. He had done his fair share of photoshoots, often holding a seductive or strong pose that would be overlaid with an image of a bottle of perfume or sports drink. Even when needing to flaunt a brand’s new harness or paw balm, he had done whatever was asked of him. However, the idea of being a mascot for the same drinks that his mother had become dependent on, and fought so hard to be free of, was a line he wouldn’t cross.

“They are already doing it, and so are you. This is a whole team thing. All the primaries are getting their own signature flavour for a Cresties special edition,” Tiiphani elaborated and scrolled through her notes. “Yours is smoked honey with notes of cinnamon. A sweet blend of speed and dynamic flavours that will set your senses–”

“No,” Meegi replied shortly and looked back over the city. “I ain’t going to be a part of their brand, let alone have my own line. Did your father sign off on this?” he asked, and his stomach sank when she nodded.

“He was delighted. They are throwing a QR code on each bottle for people to become members. Every bar in the country will be canvassed by us, and we can reclaim some of the members we’ve lost,” Tiiphani explained, then tilted her head at him when he clenched his jaw tight. “Which we wouldn’t have to do if you lot would score some points and actually win a game sometime. So don’t go getting mad at me. I’m just trying to stop us from becoming bottom feeders.”

Meegi’s gut felt as though it had tightened into a knot, and a wave of nausea washed over him. His mate wasn’t wrong, but he still didn’t like the idea of advertising alcohol and could already see the promotions encouraging people to collect the whole team. From an exclusively objective marketing strategy, it was a solid plan, and as players were rotated out, new bottles would be produced. It sickened him, though, and he knew that if he pushed back too hard, there was a possibility that he would be put back onto the reserve team so another, more flexible player could take his place. “I don’t want to do it,” he added under his breath, but was silenced by the dragoness, who let out a small hiss.

“Look, you have your job and I have mine, okay? Just take it for the team and try to smile,” Tiiphani replied with an uncaring tone in her voice that made her come across as cold and distant. The moment seemed to be recognised by the dragoness, who took a deep breath and then locked her phone before turning to face him. “Babe, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but this is reality. All teams are funded by sponsors and prize money. If we ain’t getting prize money, then we need to either cut expenses and fire some people or be less picky with our sponsors. Just be thankful we aren’t getting you to flaunt tailhole bleach or something,” she added in a poor attempt to lift the mood. Sweeping her tail across the balcony tiles, she brushed it against his own to get his attention. “And look, if you do good tomorrow, maybe I can find some time in your schedule for us,” she added while dipping her snout and looking at him with a softness in her eyes that made his posture straighten. “Just us…”

He knew what she was implying, and it pained him more than it excited him. She was clearly trying to manipulate him, and in the past he it may have worked on him. However, now he simply glanced down at her tail and then looked her in the eyes with a hint of judgement on his snout. “What are you thinking?” he asked as if falling for her ploy, and when she batted her eyes, he tilted his head with a look of genuine curiosity. “Could we maybe go all the way?” he asked, and knew he had struck a nerve when her expression darkened. “I mean, it’s natural, right? It might feel good–”

“For fuck’s sake, Meegi, not everyone is into that shit, and I’ve got things to do,” she retorted and pulled her tail away from his as if it had been bitten. “You should be lucky that a ‘ness is happy to have you inside her without bitching that she doesn’t want to have a knot shoved into her, let alone for it to be stuck and forced to be joined at the hip,” Tiiphani snapped, partially lifting her folded wings in anger. “So no, and don’t be trying to guilt trip me either.”

“I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you…” Meegi murmured as he looked away and shuffled his wings. He didn’t want to press the subject and for sex to become transactional; however, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t frustrated by their bedroom experiences. “It was just an idea, that’s all,” he added slowly and exhaled to try and calm his beating heart. He knew that he should be grateful for everything that Tiiphani and her family had offered him, and forced a smile as he looked back at her. “Forgive me, I misspoke. How about just dinner somewhere nice?”

“Forget it,” Tiiphani scoffed and tapped at her phone. “I’m busy tomorrow night anyway. Be at the bar for six and I’ll see what I can arrange. Also, what’s this about you trying to get a brand deal last week?” Tiiphani scolded, the change of subject coming so swiftly that it caught Meegi off guard. “IT said that you’ve been emailing some non-profit or something? You know we don’t deal with charities unless finance says we have to,” she continued, searching his eyes for answers as he recoiled back in confusion.

“Deals? No?” Meegi replied in genuine confusion before realisation began to dawn on him. “Oh, that? No, no, no, I wasn’t trying to get a deal. Gods, no. I think I clicked on an ad or something and got put on a mailing list. I was emailing them to get off it,” he lied hastily. It was a poor attempt, but his usual confidence was undermined by the idea of Tiiphani learning that he had emailed an ex-classmate. “I don’t know why IT thought that out of me telling them to remove me from their marketing. Deals are your thing, well above my pay grade,” he continued in a veiled attempt at flattery.

His reaction seemed to pique the dragoness’ curiosity, and her eyes flicked between his like a parent trying to discern the truth from a misbehaving hatchling. Forcing his tail to relax and not be tucked so closely to his paws, Meegi tried not to look defensive as she stared at him and instead shrugged his wings. “I promise, it wasn’t a brand deal. It was nothing. I’m busy enough as it is, why would I try to take more on?” he added, which seemed to put the dragoness at ease.

“Good. Please don’t do it again. Emails are for internal use only, okay? Let me and marketing handle anything external. We could do without more heat at the moment without you agreeing to something,” Tiiphani mused and tapped at the screen of her phone with a painted talon. “I’ve told IT to ban their company, so you shouldn’t get any more spam from them,” she added nonchalantly, and Meegi took some solace in the fact that she didn’t look to him to gauge his reaction. If she knew he had emailed Reeva, there was no way she wouldn’t be more invested in getting to the bottom of why he had reached out to her.

“Thanks,” he replied and forced his voice to stay calm to hide the pain. “We have a team debrief soon, right?” he added and went to reach for the phone strapped to his wrist, only to pause when the crimson dragoness shook her head.

“It’s been delayed until after lunch. Father is talking to the lawyers to get options,” she added cryptically. The way she said it didn’t invite questions, and Meegi’s mind began to race with what that could mean. Likely someone’s contract was in jeopardy, and they wanted to know what the risk would be to terminate it early. Looran was the likely candidate; however, given how cold Tiiphani had been and how Fiital had played, Meegi began to fear for his own position. “I’ve got a call with him and apparel in a few minutes to go over some design decisions. But everyone is to be at the stadium by one pm for the meeting. No exceptions,” she added while rising to all fours and lifting her folded wings to stretch her flight muscles. “Try to get on top of the video messages before then, we need fans right now. But don’t do them here, I need to focus,” she added, and Meegi understood that she wanted space.

Nodding in agreement, Meegi ruffled his wings and let them unfurl at his sides. “I’ll head to the stadium then, it will look better in the video anyway,” Meegi replied and looked down at his paws and the small indents in the sandstone tiles. “Tiif, was there ever a handrail here?” he asked, trying to redirect the conversation to something lighter before they parted. He guessed it was something she would know, and if she was going to be spending more time with Haanith, he didn’t want to leave on a bad note. The dragoness cocked her head at him in confusion, and he nodded towards the marks on the tiles. “Just wondering what these were from?”

“Um… yeah,” she replied in mild bewilderment. “Yeah, there was. The old owner didn’t have any, and it needed one to pass inspection. Then Father had them removed,” she added and frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Really,” Meegi replied and flashed her a gentle smile. “The house I grew up in didn’t have a balcony, and I noticed that all the other apartments have handrails, so I guessed it was something to do with that,” he continued and ran a digit over the cracks he hadn’t noticed before. “Must have been expensive to get handrails put in, only to take them out again,” he added and looked to her as if it were a genuine question.

“I guess. Apparently the inspector found all sorts of defects in this place, which got us a good deal. Daddy said that all the glass had to be replaced because it was too thin, and a few other things that weren’t up to code,” Tiiphani replied while rubbing a paw up her other foreleg absentmindedly. “Once we moved in, though, we had the railings removed, as it’s only us here anyway and there isn’t a chance of a human falling off. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I guess I never noticed the cracks before,” he added before rising to his feet and dipping his head. “Did you want me to get you anything on my way to the stadium? Lunch or a drink or something?” he offered, trying to appear helpful but not desperate. “I’m guessing you’re going to be busy until the meeting?”

His offer seemed to cut through the dragoness’ mood, and a rare smile formed on her snout before she shook her head once more. “Can you send someone to get me a coffee? Do you know how I like it?” she asked, and Meegi bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Despite being more akin to a chemical concoction than anything caffeinated, Meegi had committed her order to heart.

“Medium iced mocha, light mocha sauce in the bottom before a half shot of pistachio. Then half a scoop of vanilla ice cream, extra pump of mocha, blonde, and add an extra shot of decaf. Light ice, stir well, a splash of soy before the cream, heavy cream cold foam, light honey drizzle, and then light mocha drizzle,” Meegi replied before drawing breath and forcing a smile. “And hazelnut sprinkles on top,” he added while his tail lashed behind him. It was hardly a coffee and more of a cup of ice cream and syrup, and as much as it pained him to order something like that, it was what she liked, and keeping her happy was critical.

“Good boy,” Tiiphani cooed and rewarded him with a small nod. “I’ll probably get there just before the meeting, so please don’t let it melt,” she added before rising to all fours and stepping towards him. Brushing her snout against his cheek, she gave him a small kiss below his horns and just in front of his ear. “Please try to catch up on those videos. The meeting is going to have a thing about player commitments, and I don’t want Daddy to have a reason to come down on you. Okay?” she added in a voice that made it clear it wasn't a request.

==Page break==

From the top floor of the northern spire apartment towers to the stadium was a simple glide that would only take Meegi half an hour if he was feeling lazy, or a few minutes if he beat his wings. However, Tiiphani’s ‘coffee’ order had him detouring across the city with a quickness in his wing beats. Like any city, every street corner played host to either a café or a Starbucks; however, the idea of entering one and repeating such an order was too embarrassing without her by his side, especially if he was recognised by fans. Sending one of the team’s staff was, of course, an option, although Meegi still didn’t feel comfortable asking them to go out of their way to fetch a drink when he was flying over countless suitable shops on his way.

A flicker of giddy excitement left a smirk on his snout as he spotted a familiar collection of buildings and partially cropped his wings to descend below the rooftops, overshooting the designated landing area. After checking behind him, Meegi angled his wings in opposite directions and hooked his tail to one side to wheel over himself in a quick turn. Now facing the wind, he let the gentle breeze filtering through the buildings fill his wing membranes and slow him down to a stall as he sank lower towards the ground. With the smallest adjustments of his wings and a final flap to correct his descent, Meegi touched down on his hind legs before dropping to all fours. Being the middle of the day on the weekend, the pavement was busy with a host of humans and dragons padding their way to various shops and restaurants, but thankfully none seemed to pay him any notice as he crossed the street and entered the café.

His breath hitched as the familiar sound of the door’s bell heralding his arrival reminded him of a time that felt like an eternity ago. The smell of coffee filling his nostrils and the slightly cooler-than-usual air conditioning all brought him back to his high school days and to a time when things were less chaotic. Looking around as he stepped towards the counter, Meegi could almost believe he had stepped into a room that time forgot. Other than the paint looking more tired than he remembered and the cushions being a different design, almost nothing about the café had changed. Most of the seats were taken and the sounds of people conversing over their drinks filled the air. However, as Meegi looked towards the bay window at the front of the store, he saw that it was empty, with a reserved sign on the low table.

“Be with you in a sec,” called out a familiar male voice from the storeroom behind the counter. The storeroom door was only partially closed, blocking the contents from the customers view, but still allowing the owner to listen out for new arrivals. Hearing his former boss’s voice made Meegi’s throat tighten and a grin form on his snout. The moment was short-lived, however, as Meegi heard the sounds of the man struggling to move something.

“Need a hand, Mike?” Meegi offered and stepped quickly to the counter when he heard the crash of something heavy falling to the ground. “Mike?” he called out again and craned his neck over the counter to try and see what was going on. The door was yanked back from within to reveal the portly man with a look of genuine surprise on his face. It had been a few years since he had seen his former boss, and in that time the man looked as though he had aged even more. Hints of grey hair flecked the man’s sideburns, and his hairline looked as though it was retreating from a battle with his eyebrows, which were bushier than Meegi remembered.

“It is you!” Mike exclaimed with a broad smile and emerged from the storeroom to come to the register. Pulling his head back to the customer side of the counter, Meegi grinned sheepishly and sat back on his haunches. “I was wondering if I would ever see you come in here again. What brings you here?” he asked, collecting a cloth from below the counter to wipe his hands on.

“Oh, you know, only looking for the best coffee in town!” Meegi retorted with a genuine smile. “Know any good spots?” he added, earning a chuckle from the man, who nodded and went to the large, old espresso machine that dominated the counter. Looking around at the patrons, Meegi tried not to make eye contact with any of them and leaned further over the counter so he could keep his voice low. “Business doing good?” he asked and used a paw to push a portafilter closer towards the man to help.

“Sometimes too good,” Mike replied with a chuckle and began turning knobs on the machine. “And good help is hard to find, they keep going off and becoming superstars,” he added and flashed him a merry smile. “Although I saw the game last night, and well… I have an open position if you want it. I’ll even up your pay if you remember to take out the trash at the end of the shift,” he added jokingly, which made Meegi laugh for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Sorry, Mike, maybe another time. But what about Siidah? He has to be old enough to start doing some cheap labour, right?” Meegi asked and tried to remember how old the man’s son was. Of course, the drake wasn’t his biological son, but he had raised the black-and-white furred drake alongside his mate as if he were his own. The mention of the young drake made the man widen his eyes in exaggerated frustration.

“Oh, he is hitting that age where he’s embarrassed to be around his dad, but too young to let him do his own thing,” Mike replied and shook his head. “Trying to get him to work here for pocket money is like getting blood from stone. He would much rather be watching replays of your games and collecting trading cards. He still talks about you teaching him to fly, you know that, hey?” he asked rhetorically and pulled down on a lever to begin filling the portafilter with freshly ground coffee.

Meegi remembered the day fondly and dipped his head in bashful amusement at the man’s struggles. “Well, you can tell him that I came here to visit him, and that I was disappointed to see he wasn’t helping you out,” Meegi offered, earning a grin from the man. When Mike reached out a hand for the drake’s flask, Meegi reached to his side and retrieved a pair of crimson flasks with the Cresties logo on the side. Unlike the ones sold as merchandise at games and via their online store, the logo wasn’t a sticker and instead was engraved into the paint. Likewise, the rubber seal inside the lid was actually made to last, rather than the cheaper ones that were designed to fail after a season. Passing the first flask over, Meegi noticed Mike’s eyes linger on the second flask for a beat longer than necessary before he took the first one to the machine.

“Still dating the boss’s daughter?” Mike asked with a hint of something Meegi couldn’t quite place in his voice. It wasn’t disapproval, but the way he said it made him sound almost regretful, or perhaps concerned. Nodding in agreement, Meegi collected Tiiphani’s flask and rolled it between his forepaws as he sat back on his haunches.

“Yeah, I’m still with Tiiphani,” he replied and forced a smile when the man looked back at him with a questioning look. “It’s not that bad, though. It’s better when we win… frustrating when we lose—”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re here,” Mike retorted with a chuckle that caused Meegi to playfully glare at him. His reaction, in turn, made the man laugh a deep-chested laugh and shake his head. “Oh, I’m just yanking your tail. Although that game was pretty abysmal, she might have a point—”

“I’ll get these to go, if that’s okay?” Meegi replied flatly and cocked an eyeridge at the man, who held his hands up in mock surrender. Shuffling his wings against his sides, Meegi shook his head with a smirk and looked back across the cafe. Some of the guests had turned at the sound of the man’s laughter, and a few eyes lingered on Meegi in confusion. Looking back at Mike, Meegi adjusted his posture so that he had more of his back towards the patrons.

“Oh, you don’t want to talk about it? I remember you would give me a blow-by-blow retelling of a game. Is it different now that you’re playing professionally or something?” Mike asked while pouring Meegi’s coffee. Truth be told, Meegi wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about the game or not. No doubt Mike would have seen the plays from more angles than Meegi would have while he was playing; however, Meegi knew that his afternoon was about to be dominated by reviews from the team’s analysts. Before he could answer, the man continued while focusing on the flask. “I think Looran wasn’t really playing her best. No guess needed as to why. That magic the Warmbler did must have really shaken her up. Is she doing okay?”

Swallowing and refocusing his thoughts, Meegi nodded. “She got a clean bill of health on the Monday after the game and is doing great in training,” he replied, and the words felt sour in his mouth. They were the same rehearsed lines that the marketing team had told him to say when asked about her, but saying them to a friend felt wrong. “But I haven’t spoken to her since last night,” he added with more sincerity. Looking at the man as he finished screwing the flask together, curiosity nagged at Meegi’s mind. Since the attack, he had heard nothing but how magic was a threat to the sport and a danger to society, but the sentiment had come from those closest to the sport, and he was unsure if fans really held the same opinion. “Hypothetically… if their claimer hadn’t done magic, but could do it, do you think he should have been kicked?” he asked and shrank back when Mike looked at him quizzically. “I mean, I’m curious. It’s pretty normal for a fledgling to wonder if they have magic in them, but—” his words were cut short by a snort from Mike.

“Oh, I know. I walked past the living room and caught Siidah going cross-eyed trying to summon the remote from across the couch,” Mike laughed and shook his head. “It was hilarious to see, especially when I turned off the lights and he thought he did it,” he added with a smile so broad that the corners of his eyes wrinkled. “Broke his heart when he saw me, but it was still funny. Sorry, you asked about the claimer. I sure as hell agree with him getting kicked for attacking your teammate, but I don’t know about the whole banning magic users in general,” Mike continued and shrugged. “The sport has always been brutal, hasn’t it? But I get that they’ve put rules in over the years. I’d much rather see the players play like it is now than tear each other limb from limb like the ‘good ol’ days’,” he added while using one free hand to give finger quotes. “They still let the fire-breathing dragons play, provided they control themselves, and if you ask me, magic and breathing fire are both pretty dragon things to do. God knows it would be cool to be able to do magic. I wouldn’t have to get a maintenance dragon out to fix this machine every six months when the steamer clogs up. By the way, can you show me how you used to clean it? I swear I can’t get the screens as clean as you could.”

Meegi’s eyes averted the man’s gaze briefly before he forced himself to look confused. “What are you talking about? You taught me!” he exclaimed with a tense chuckle. It was true, the man had taught Meegi how to disassemble the machine to clean each component; however, Meegi had used his abilities on more than one occasion to deep clean the harder-to-reach parts. Of course, he only did it while Mike was either busy cleaning the windows of the store or at the end of the shift when Meegi was alone.

“Maybe I am getting old then,” Mike mused in defeat and shrugged. “I’m probably forgetting a step, and the manual for this old gal is long gone.” He continued and looked at the machine as if it were an old friend. “The tech keeps bugging me to upgrade, but other than getting a bit gummed up, she still pulls shots like she did when I got her,” he added and used a folded cloth to clean the nozzle he had just used. The man’s eyes flicked to the second flask on the counter and jerked in realisation before reaching out and snatching it up. “Sorry, one more–”

“Um, do you mind if I do this one? It will save you a lot of pain,” Meegi asked and rose to all fours again when the man nodded.

“Be my guest, still know how it all works?” Mike replied and stepped back as Meegi rounded the counter. “Sure I can’t tempt you with a job? I kind of miss having someone make me a coffee every now and again,” the man added as Meegi stepped up to the machine.

“Oh, I don’t think you could afford me, Mike,” Meegi replied cheekily and began scanning the collection of syrups and additives that lined the top of the coffee machine. Placed exactly where he remembered it, an orange crystal dragoness figurine stood proudly amongst the collection. However, on closer inspection, Meegi noticed that one of its wings had a thin, jagged line across the entire limb where it had been broken and glued back together. “Oh, what happened to her?” Meegi asked with concern in his voice as he reached past the figurine and collected a jar of mocha. He had always found the trinket quite curious and out of place amongst the ingredients, but guessed that it held some sort of significance to his boss, as part of the evening ritual was to hide it away in the cupboards in case they were broken into.

“Kids,” Mike scoffed and leaned back against the wall while watching the drake work. “Siidah thought it was cool, and well, it’s my fault for having it where he could reach.” He added with a hint of defeat in his voice. “But she is still here, still watching me work. Liiria found a jeweller in town who put her back together again. She was missing the tip of one of her horns too, but he managed to file and polish them down so you can’t tell. Kinda looks less like her mother now…” The man continued, but his words drifted off as he looked at what Meegi was doing. “What are you making?”

“Don’t,” Meegi replied flatly as he worked and shook his head in defeat. “Just don’t. I know, and I knew you wouldn’t agree,” Meegi added with a smirk while taking a half step backwards to open the small freezer under the counter and fish out a tub of ice cream. “But this is her latest favourite, and you know how it is. Happy mate, happy fate…”

“Yeah, the saying is happy mate, not sugar-high mate. You’re going to put her in the hospital with all that. I get that you’re bigger and all that, but that can’t be healthy–”

“Oh, she will only drink half and forget about the rest,” Meegi replied without hiding his disapproval. Growing up, the idea of leaving food uneaten was unforgivable, but the dragoness clearly didn’t share the same opinions, and it was incredibly rare that she ever cleared her plate or finished a drink. “And she isn’t really one to care about healthy. Trust me, the amount of times I’ve had to bring her junk food while I’m eating nothing but chicken and rice is–” Meegi silenced himself when he missed the flask with the bottle of honey and spilt some down the side. Looking around for the cloth, it wasn’t where it usually hung, and when he glanced back at Mike, he saw him looking at him with concern.

“Oh dear, so it’s not all rainbows and Dragonball, is it?” Mike asked and stepped closer to pass the cloth, letting his hand rest on Meegi’s wing shoulder. “Everything okay?” he added with a sincerity in his voice that caught Meegi off guard. He had expected sympathy, jokes, even ones at his expense, but the man spoke to him as Meegi imagined his father would have, and for a brief moment he let his façade slip further.

“It’s just…” he started before his voice failed him and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. What he wanted to say next sounded selfish, arrogant, and not how he was raised, and he struggled to find a way to say it any other way. “This is what I wanted… growing up, this is everything I’ve ever wanted. Playing Dragonball, the Cresties, all of this, and well… I don’t know what now,” Meegi admitted, his voice shifting pitch irregularly as his emotions swelled inside him. “Forget it, it’s stupid. Sorry, I’m fine–”

“No, I get it…” Mike replied and gripped his wing shoulder more firmly. “Many people go their entire lives without reaching their goals, you kind of got it done before you could drink,” the man added with a small chuckle that failed to lift Meegi’s mood. “I thought something similar when I opened this place. It was my dream to open a café of my own, not have a boss looming over me, and be able to spend time with those I loved. Hell, I was about your age when I did it too… Fuck, has it really been that long?” the man mused to himself while combing his fingers through his receding hair. “Anyway, I get it, Meegi. It’s a weird feeling.”

The knowledge was somewhat comforting to the drake, but he couldn’t help but frown. “So, what happened? Did the feeling go away?” he asked and looked past the man to check on the patrons. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but he was certain that a drake and a human in the corner had been looking at him and were now in a hushed conversation.

“In a way,” Mike replied while turning his head to follow Meegi’s gaze. “Once the first bill came in, I had a pretty good idea of what I had to do next. But that probably doesn’t help you much, though,” he admitted before refocusing on Meegi and giving his shoulder a small shake. “There is always kids, they will keep you on your toes–”

“Oh no, that isn’t on the cards any time soon,” Meegi retorted and grabbed the last bottle needed to complete Tiiphani’s elixir. “Tiiphani has no interest, and I’m sure as hell not in a position to take care of a little one. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed teaching Siidah to fly. But if I was going to raise a kid, I would want to be there for all of it, and my days are full of Cresties work–” The sound of a cup crashing against a table tore Meegi’s focus from the conversation, and together with Mike, they both turned to see what had happened.

“It is Meegi!” cried out the dragon who had been glancing at them from across the room, his voice silencing the rest of the cafe like a gunshot. “Oh my god, I swore it was you, didn’t I, Dave?” he continued, his mouth opening in a knowing, excited smile. Moving with a speed that startled Meegi, the drake practically teleported from where he had been sitting with a human and scampered towards the counter. Despite being adult-sized, his eyes and expression were that of an excited hatchling. Combined with the brown, freckle-like pattern that covered his blue scales, Meegi’s mind slipped to an image of an acne-ridden human teenager.

“Oh, um, hi. Yeah, it’s me,” Meegi began before curling his lips into a cheerful smile and placing Tiiphani’s finished flask beside the machine. In the corner of his vision, he could see that the entire cafe was now looking on in surprise and whispering amongst each other as phones began to emerge from pouches and pockets. Glancing towards Mike with a look of discomfort, the man looked unsure of what to do.

Clearing his throat and renewing his smile, Meegi relaxed his wings and focused on the fan. “What did you think of the game last night?” he asked, and when the dragon opened and closed his mouth in star-struck shock, Meegi glanced towards the human the drake had been sitting with. “Did you… want a photo?” he offered, keeping the request simple in hopes of getting a few syllables from the drake.

“Y–yesss,” the blue drake croaked and broke his gaze from Meegi to look at his friend. “Dave! Quick!” he called insistently, and the man hurried to get his phone out of his pocket and rushed towards the counter. In the corner of Meegi’s eye, he saw Mike secure the lid of Tiiphani’s flask and collect Meegi’s to keep them together. It was a small gesture, but one that Meegi greatly appreciated. The man always had an uncanny ability to read his mood and was making it easier for him to leave if needed without pushing him away.

“Um, Mike, do you mind taking the photo?” Meegi asked softly while curling his neck to address the man. With a quick flick of his eyes between the flasks and one of the silver metal loops on his harness, Meegi indicated where he needed them hooked on. Mike exclaimed that he would love to take a photo and quickly connected them to his harness.

“What is someone like you doing here?” asked the drake, finally finding his words now that Meegi wasn’t directly looking at him. However, when Meegi looked back at him, he seemed to shrink slightly, as if he thought he had offended the Dragonball player. “I– I– mean– aren’t you sponsored by Peet’s Coffee? Oh, no, that was last season, right?” he stammered nervously, his words uncertain, as Meegi tried to put the drake at ease with a reassuring smile.

“Oh, Claws on Coffee and I go way back, and who knows, maybe one day they will become a sponsor,” he joked and glanced towards Mike, who laughed at the idea. “Although, if the boss knew how good the coffee was, he would probably pay Mike to have the logo on the uniforms,” Meegi added in jest and looked back at the fan as he laughed a tense, squark-like laugh before clamping his mouth shut. The whole dragon’s body twitched with giddy excitement and his wings constantly shuffled to try and find a comfortable position as Mike took the phone from his friend and Meegi leaned across the counter to get closer. “But as good as Peet’s is, I used to work here, back before the Cresties. Between practice and school, you could find me here making coffee and clearing tables,” he added in a soft whisper, as if the information were a secret. When he had first signed on with the Cresties, the marketing team had done well to sell the idea that his first job was Dragonball and heavily skewed the facts to create the narrative that he was fresh from school and already a world-class player.

“You were a– a– barista?” the drake asked with a hopefulness in his voice that made Meegi chuckle and his friend look back in surprise. “Really?” the man, Dave, asked in genuine confusion.

Nodding, Meegi held his practised smile while Mike took a step backwards to get everyone in the frame. Glancing past his former boss, Meegi noticed that they had the attention of everyone in the store and saw that many of them were already taking photos. Meegi knew he would have to report this to marketing, and to Tiiphani, which made his chest retighten and his smile waver slightly. Mentally running through the list of sponsors they had for the season, he was sure that the cafe wasn’t in conflict with any of them, but given Tiiphani’s remarks about trying to get deals, he knew this simple coffee run would likely result in a grilling.

“Alrighty, everybody say Crestieeeees,” Mike called out, and as the group repeated it, the phone made a series of shutter sounds. After giving the last one a quick look over, he moved forward and passed it back to the dragon’s friend. “Now, Meegi, you should probably get going if you’re going to make it to training, right?” Mike asked, just loud enough for it to be clear that it wasn’t a question. Meegi knew that the man wasn’t trying to kick him out of the cafe and was instead giving him an out, one which he gladly accepted.

Turning his head to look at the clock on the wall, Meegi recoiled dramatically and pulled himself away from the fans. “Gods, you’re right, yes– thank you, Mike,” he replied in an attempt to sound flustered. “And thank you, both of you, for saying hi. It’s always great to meet loyal fans,” he added towards the pair, who seemed genuinely touched to be thanked by him. Reaching back with a paw to confirm that both flasks were secure, he gave them a small tug to ensure that they were fastened properly and then walked quickly out from behind the counter. Both of the starstruck fans stood dumbfounded and watched him pass with wide, idolising eyes until the human seemed to come to his senses and dug his elbow into his dragon friend’s foreleg.

“Oh– um– Meegi. Can– can I get a um… no, sorry, you need to go,” the drake stammered, causing Meegi to pause mid-step. He knew that the drake wanted something more significant than just a photo, and despite wanting to leave, Meegi turned back with a grin. “Oh, an autograph?” he asked and dipped his head when the drake tried to say something but failed and instead nodded. “Yeah, sure, I’ve got a second. But I don’t have a pen on me, sorry,” he added and waited politely as the drake began to empty the contents of his harness in search of a pen and something for Meegi to sign.

“Here you go,” Mike called out as he retrieved a thick black Sharpie from his apron and tossed it towards Meegi. Snatching it from the air with a paw, Meegi watched as both the human and the drake sorted through the various receipts, coupons, and assorted rubbish the drake had been carrying, searching for something worthy of the Dragonball star’s signature.

Feeling the gaze of the other café patrons burning into them as the mess grew, Meegi chuckled and stepped towards the cabinet of colourful flasks that lined the wall next to the register. “Here, how about one of these,” he started, plucking a blue one from the shelf. “On me,” he added as he held it in one paw and scrawled his signature across the curved surface. The way the drake’s eyes lit up made Meegi’s smile grow into something more genuine, and he was almost worried the dragon might pass out when he gave him a quick wink.

Recapping the pen, Meegi went to step past the two fans to return it and pay for his coffee and the flasks, but caught Mike looking at him with a proud smile. The man simply gave a small, singular shake of his head and nodded towards the door, giving him permission to pay another time and to leave now. Meegi’s throat tightened in sincere thanks. Mike might not have known it, but the knowledge that he was welcome to come back and continue their talk sent a wave of relief through Meegi’s mind. “I’ll catch you later, Mike, and tell Siidah we should go flying again,” he added, partially for the crowd of patrons watching and partially as a genuine thanks, which the man acknowledged with a nod in farewell.

==Page break==

“Jessie the claimer, thanks for being a part of the Cresties crew! I heard this season will be your second year with us. Awesome to have you as one of our members. I hope to see you in the crowd one day, maybe when we crush the Nixies next. What do you reckon?”

“Dead_Not_Sleeping, thanks for being a part of the Cresties crew! I saw that you’ve been a member for eight years. Oh damn, that’s longer than I’ve been playing for the team! Great to have you in our ranks, I hope you enjoy this season, it’s gonna be a good one!”

“Keerth1962, thanks for being a part of the Cresties crew! I had to take a moment to thank a lifetime member. It’s an honour, thanks for being such a loyal fan! If I see you at the next game, I’m gonna come say hi, you know that. Stay awesome, stay Crestie!”

Meegi’s smile dropped a moment after he tapped the end button and inhaled deeply while reading the details of the next member he had to record a video for. The app had been commissioned by the Cresties to make the process easy for the players to see a summarised version of the members’ details and capture a short video. It was maybe too simple, only offering a tiny thumbnail picture that the fan had uploaded, their membership name, and how long they had been a paid member. A part of him would have liked to have seen more information about the person he was recording for, just so he could make something more unique and memorable for them rather than a repeat of the same video each time.

It seemed that the developer of the app had meant for the videos to be more creative, as it had a feature to remind players to move to a different location every twenty or so videos so they all didn’t look the same. It wasn’t a particularly good implementation of the feature, as the app seemed to look at the background behind the player to judge if he was making too many videos that looked the same. To trick the program, whenever the alert would go off, the players could simply rotate themselves on the spot so the background looked different enough. Meegi, however, tried to take the extra step to move about the stadium and so far had recorded himself sitting on the roof of the stadium, as well as atop each of the goal posts, the middle of the grassy field, and three different areas of the seating. Now, he stood at the threshold of one of the hallways that delved through the stadium and had propped his phone against a fire extinguisher so that it captured the stadium behind him.

“DevilDog05_FlyingTea404, whew, that’s a long one, ha-ha. Thanks for being a part of the Cresties crew! I heard that you’re an honorary member through our veteran program. Thank you for your sacrifice! It’s an honour to have you in our ranks. I heard you can get some good discounts on field-edge tickets if you show your veteran’s ID. You’ve earned it, hero.”

Meegi continued before tapping the screen and moving to the next member he had to record for. He tried not to focus on the number of remaining videos he had to go, as it seemed that for every video he made, another took its place. Looran had told him it was based off the video feeds people tuned into during a game, that way the fans got videos from their favourite player. However, it seemed that the software allocating the fans needed a day to calculate, as Meegi was sure that he had fewer videos to do right after the game than now.

“Bazooka– no, sorry. Bazookooa! Thanks for being a part of the Cresties crew, or should I say, welcome! First season as a member. I hope you’re enjoying the season so far. Don’t worry, the best is still yet to come,” Meegi continued before swallowing and flashing a winning smile. “Hope to see you out there, legend. If you haven’t made it to a game yet, please do. The game against the Nixies should be one for the history books. I’d love to see you in the crowd when we thrash them,” he added with a wink before tapping the screen again.

“R33VA, thanks for being a part of the Cresties…” Meegi’s words drifted off as he frowned at the screen and the small thumbnail the fan had uploaded. Unlike many of the members who had uploaded pictures of themselves, often wearing crimson and gold flags or sporting coloured paint on their scales or skin, this avatar was of a small green plant with red spiky flowers growing from a sky-blue pot. Meegi ignored the blinking red light signalling that his phone was still recording as he scanned over the member’s details. His mouth parted in realisation when he saw that they had been a member for almost exactly as long as he had been playing for the Cresties. “Reeva…” he murmured under his breath and looked back at the flower. It wasn’t impossible that it was her. After all, the colours of the flower and pot were so close to how he remembered her crimson frill and light blue scales. However, a shadow of doubt hung in his mind and he tried to tell himself it could just be a coincidence. He was representing the team, after all, and there were tens of thousands of members. Likewise, Reeva wasn’t a unique name. Inhaling and renewing his smile, Meegi shuffled his wings and refocused his eyes on the phone’s screen. “Sorry, I used to know a Reeva. Thanks for being a part of the Cresties…” His words faltered as he realised he had repeated himself saying the same fake and sterile words. It felt disingenuous to say them to her, if it was her of course. His eyes flicked to the flashing red light and he knew that his hesitation was caught in perfect clarity. He could erase the video and start again, stick to the script and say something curated and scripted. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to pretend to the dragoness whom he had enjoyed the company of. Pausing, he felt like he was back at high school again, on the spot, looking at the nerdy dragoness and being unsure how he felt about her. It felt different to composing an email, where he could hide behind the words to keep his feelings buried, and instead it was as though the dragoness was looking back at him through some sort of one-way glass. The hesitation in his words had already exposed him, and he knew that if this was the real Reeva, she would be focusing in earnest on what he had to say.

Looking away for a moment, his rehearsed smile morphed into one of honest defeat as all pretences fell away and he turned back to focus on the camera once more without the mask he hid behind. His expression softened as the character of the Dragonball player was put aside and he let himself be captured as he really was. “Hello, Reeva. How are you going?” he started, as if she could reply, and felt a shadow of guilt swirl in the back of his mind. At some level, he knew that while at school he had felt something towards the dragoness that was more than just a school time friendship, and if he was honest with himself, he was sure Tiiphani knew as well. He had never understood why someone would cheat on a partner they loved, except for this brief moment, where he felt a glimpse of escape talking to the camera as if it were his old classmate. His nostrils flared as he inhaled and the corner of his lips twitched as he fought the urge to default back to his professional, curated expression. “I hope you’re doing alright. I saw you on the news the other week and… Well… You looked good…” he continued honestly, then paused as guilt and shame began to blanket him. He couldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be saying this. He had a mate, he wanted to be faithful, and while this was just talking to a camera, the feelings of longing for something other than the spoiled crimson dragoness, frightened him.

From deep within the stadium’s depths, music began to play, shaking him from his thoughts. Recoiling back from the phone as though he had been shocked, he tapped the delete button quickly and locked his phone as if someone might have seen what he had almost done. With the screen dark, in the shade of the stadium corridor, he caught his reflection looking back at him and snatched the phone from where he had balanced it. The idea of faking his smile and recording another video, for Reeva or for any fan, was no longer appealing, and he let the music distract him from his thoughts. He couldn’t place the song, as bare concrete and various turns in the hallway caused the notes to overlap and resonate against one another. However, the music sounded angry.

Curious, Meegi rose to his feet and began to pad his way towards the source of the sound. Delving deeper into the corridors that networked the stadium, the music sounded like it was coming at him from all directions as it bounced and reverberated off of the bare concrete walls. However, after two turns he had a solid guess as to where it was being played from and headed towards the team’s gym. Someone was likely trying to get some training in before the meeting, and the idea of being alone with his thoughts caused Meegi to quicken his steps to find who had arrived early. Approaching the training area, the music became deafening, clearer and all-consuming. Touching the bridge of his snout against the polished crash bar of the door, he felt the metal vibrating with the beat, and when he pressed it open, his ears were assaulted by the noise.

The bass throbbed in his chest as though someone were pressing against it, and the vocals were so loud that they became distorted in the rest of the instruments, coming out more as a wail of noise. Looking across the gym, full of large, heavy metal apparatuses, he spotted the only occupant hanging by her wings from two horizontal bars. Suspended a dozen feet off the ground, the dragoness had each of her wings cupped over the leather-padded beams and was lowering herself towards the ground before lifting herself back up again, all while carrying a weighted ball held between her forelegs and another held between her thighs. Pausing just before the backs of her paws touched the ground, she heaved her flight muscles and pulled her wings down, lifting herself back up again until her chest was above the bars. It was an exercise Meegi had done countless times to work on his flight muscles. Of course flying while carrying the weights was completely possible, and some would argue was a far more natural exercise. However when testing his limits or exercising to the point of failure, it was far safer to do the routine indoors and over a padded mat.

His presence was noticed by the dragoness, who paused at the top of her exercise and used her nose to press on a remote she had balanced on the beam. Suddenly the thumping music was silenced, and the dragoness looked at Meegi while keeping her head close to the remote. “Too loud?” she asked, her voice sounding hoarse and strained.

“Ah… a bit,” Meegi replied and bobbed his head in greeting. “Are you all good?” he asked and stepped further into the gym while the dragoness ignored the remote and continued her exercise. Coming closer, he paused mid-step as he saw something wrapped around the dragoness’s neck. At first, he thought it might have been a compression bandage of sorts, as it was secured tight enough to depress her scales. However, he realised that it was one of the elastic straps used for resistance training.

His lingering gaze wasn’t missed by the dragoness, who snorted in frustration and exhaled deeply while lifting herself up again. “My idea,” she said simply before holding her pose for a few seconds at the top of her stretch. “Figured it would help me get used to the feeling. I already know what’s going to be said in the team brief,” she admitted before dipping down below the bar and letting herself hang by her wings. She seemed to become fixated on something in the distance while she rested, before snarling and pulling herself back up with both heavy balls tight against her body. “I ain’t going back to the reserves…” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Meegi lied in an attempt to soothe the dragoness’s concern. It was an automatic reply, and one that the dragoness clearly didn’t believe. “I mean, after that attack, it’s only normal to not be at your best. I don’t think anyone is blaming you–”

“Tell that to the fucker that spat on me coming here,” Looran retorted and held herself midway through dropping down to adjust the ball between her hind legs. The pose made the strong, corded muscles that wrapped around the keel of her chest bulge with strain, but once the ball was secured again she continued to lower herself. “Said I cost him his life’s savings,” she groaned as she lifted herself up on the bars faster than before.

“He bet on us to win, didn’t he?” Meegi asked rhetorically and stepped around to the dragoness’ front so she didn’t have to curl her neck. Looking up at her, he waited as she lowered herself down to his height, and his heart sank when she nodded with clenched jaws. “That’s not your fault though.”

“Meegi, you’re a shitty liar,” Looran retorted and, with speed, launched the ball she carried in her forepaws towards Meegi’s chest. Reacting on instinct, the drake reared back onto his haunches and wrapped his paws around the ball as it slammed into his chest. It hit hard enough to startle him, but not hard enough to wind or hurt him. “Look me in the eyes and say I didn’t cost us that game,” Looran asked, with a bite in her voice that made it difficult to hold her gaze. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured and spread her hind legs to let the heavy ball drop to the foam mats with a dull thud. Free of the weight, she performed one more dip on the bars before retracting her wings and dropping down to the ground. All four limbs touched down at the same time, and the powerful muscles in her rump and shoulders bulged as they caught her fall. “I worked hard to get off the reserves. I know if they put me back there, I’ll be sold at the end of the season,” she hissed and stepped forwards with just her forepaws to stretch out her thick hind legs.

Nodding in agreement, Meegi placed the ball he was holding down on the ground and rolled it absentmindedly under a paw. “Im sure it was just a one off thing. You’re still a far more capable player than anyone in the reserves,” he said in an attempt to reassure the dragoness. Prior to the attack, he wouldn’t have been lying; however, he wasn’t so sure anymore. His eyes flicked to the elastic strap tightly wrapped around the dragoness’ throat, and he nodded towards it. “Do you think that’s working?”

The dragoness didn’t reply right away and sat back on her haunches to reach up and adjust the strap, pulling it tighter. “It’s not the same. If I close my eyes it comes close, but…” her words drifted off, carrying with them a vulnerability that made Meegi’s jaw tighten. “I can still breathe with this on. That fucker… it was like nothing else,” she muttered and dropped back to all fours to walk towards a glass-doored fridge full of large, aluminium drink bottles. Meegi didn’t press her and watched as she extracted a flask and unscrewed the lid. Holding it within her jaws, the dragoness tipped her head back and, in three quick gulps, emptied the flask.

When she didn’t elaborate, Meegi looked down at the rubber ball he was toying with and remembered the feeling he had experienced when he had tried to get the ball off the magic-wielding drake. “It probably didn’t help that I tore his wings,” he mused while rolling the ball backwards until just a talon was pressed to the top. “I think that got him mad,” Meegi continued, until the sound of the metal flask landing on the padded floor caused him to look towards Looran. The grey dragoness wasn’t looking at him and instead stared at the far corner of the gym with a distant gaze.

“No, we all get angry. It helps us fight. I– I’ve never had anything against a magic user before. Not before last week, that is. Hell, my cousin’s got the knack. But fuck…” she replied before her whole body shivered. “That look in his eyes, that shit… He just wasn’t gonna stop, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I– no… I’m just glad it happened during a game, with people to see it. I get why they’re banned from the sport. It’s not fair… it’s not right,” Looran answered before placing a paw on the empty flask she had dropped. “We train for this sport. I know that I’m not the fastest claimer, and one day there will be a brooder that will put me in my place,” she continued with a hint of her usual arrogance, but what little smile she had died when she refocused her gaze on Meegi. “But how can you train for that? How do you protect yourself against someone who can stop your heart with just a thought?”

Meegi’s chest tightened with anxiety. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t that simple. He knew that seeing the thing he wanted to touch with magic was far easier than something moving and as hurried as a heart, and that Maalkorm likely couldn’t have done something so instantaneous while playing. However, he shouldn’t know anything of what it felt like to use magic and instead forced a swallow while shaking his head. “That’s why they’re banned. There isn’t anything we can do,” Meegi replied and used a folded wing to gesture at his own throat. “Did he do any permanent damage? Like, is it actually all healed?” He knew that marketing had ensured the fans knew she was at full fighting strength; however, after the recent game he was curious whether she was hiding a physical injury that was holding her back, or if it was purely psychological.

“I’m fine…” she replied before scoffing and rolling her eyes. “It’s ironic. The fucker crushed my throat with magic, and it was a doctor who could do magic that fixed me up,” Looran continued before shrugging her pale tan wings. “It felt so wrong…”

“Wrong? Which part, the healing or the… you know,” Meegi asked in genuine curiosity. He had used his magic on himself on multiple occasions; however, he had always known what was happening, and the sensation had felt no different to a paw.

“Both. The healing felt gross. It was like someone had stuck their whole arm down my throat and was pressing and prodding. Maalkorm, on the other hand…” the dragoness paused while rolling the discarded metal flask under her paw, then leaned forwards and pressed down suddenly. The flask offered almost no resistance and, in an instant, the thin walls collapsed and the middle flattened. “It was just like that. A sudden pressure, something broke, and then it stayed like that,” Looran explained and kept her paw pressed against the broken bottle. “It was just pressure. Constant. Pain… There wasn’t anything I could do,” she added, vulnerability creeping into her voice. Lifting her paw from the bottle, she continued to look down at it as if seeing herself on the ground.

Pulling her wings close to her sides, the dragoness shrank back and finally looked up from the ground to address Meegi. “Look, I want the Cresties to do well this season. Fiital’s contract ends at the end of this season and he’s looking to retire. You know how rare that is, and I want him to go out on a win. Last night we didn’t play as one team, and if Haanith changes the team up now, it will be even more fucked. I know how you fly, and so does Fiital. Just as both of you know how I do. This whole season has seen us working together so well. I… I just don’t want us to get pulled apart and lose because of me,” Looran said with a firmness in her voice that made Meegi focus on her intense grey-blue eyes. It was true. The reserve players offered a safety net for when a primary player was injured, but it was rare for a team to perform better once a reserve player was substituted in. When he had taken over from Paaskal, the team’s odds of victory had slumped, and they had surprised the fans when they won the grand finals.

Nodding in agreement, he still wasn’t sure why the dragoness was telling him something so obvious until she looked at him with desperation in her eyes. “Haanith listens to you, and you know I can do better than last night. Can you say something to him? Please?” the dragoness asked with a softness he hadn’t seen before in the athletic dragoness.

“Looran, I… I don’t know how much sway I really have with these sorts of things,” Meegi started before bobbing his head. “Like, I will, yes, of course. And I agree, you have it in you. I just… if he says no–”

“Hey, if he cuts me, he cuts me. Nothing on you, but please. It’s hard for a dragoness to be a claimer at this level, and I’ve worked my tail off to get here. I don’t want to be benched because some magic fucker broke me. Okay? I’ll do anything. More training, more brand shit. Hell, I’ll sign up for one of those survivor island reality shows for the off-season if they want me to,” she implored, and Meegi could hear in her voice just how much this meant to her. When he dipped his head in a committed bow, the dragoness gave him a small, pained smile. “Thanks, Meegi. I appreciate it. You’re a good egg… even if you’re only here ‘cos you’re banging the boss’s daughter,” she added, making his head jerk back to look up again.

Seeing the sarcastic smile on her snout, Meegi knew that she meant nothing by it and was only trying to lighten the mood. It was an old joke amongst the team, and one that didn’t get under his scales anymore. “Well, you say you’ll do anything. Maybe offer to buy her a drink some time,” Meegi joked, earning a genuine laugh from the dragoness. “Sometimes I feel like she’s only with me ‘cos I’m on the team, so you probably have a better shot than you think,” he added with a toothy smile.

“Oh hell nah, I got here with skill. I don’t want people thinking I’m only here ‘cos I’m eating in the VIP box,” Looran retorted with a knowing smile and relaxed her wings down at her sides before shrugging them. “Besides, that bitch is far too basic for me.” Looran laughed and shook her head. “After a win, I like her to be on top and my mate to treat me right. I bet Tiiphani is a pillow princess, ain’t she? Lies there like a starfish while you go at it?”

Meegi’s snout burned as he shook his head, chuckling nervously. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” he replied, trying to be modest. “But yes, I’ll talk to Haanith. Even if he puts you on the reserves, I’ll see if I can get you back as a primary again. But you’ll owe me. I don’t know what, but you’ll owe me,” Meegi added with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Meegi. I really appreciate it,” she replied with sincerity and turned her head to look up at the bars she had been training on. “I’m gonna fly laps. Probs best that I’m visible when everyone arrives. You going to do a set?” she asked and nodded towards the equipment when Meegi cocked his head. “You’re quick, but you could do with some bulk, and I might not be there to save your tail from the strong ones,” she teased in a friendly way, and Meegi knew there was some truth to it. If Looran was going to be cut from the team, there was a good chance that the Cresties would be missing some much-needed muscle on the claimer team. “Fifty dips, both balls. That’s my warm-up,” she added and reset her wings with a hint of pride.

“Fifty? Is that all? I do sixty,” Meegi countered, earning a small snicker of a laugh from the bulkier dragoness. Moving towards the two horizontal beams, Meegi turned to face the same direction Looran had and mantled his folded wings. With a paw, he moved both of the weighted balls closer together and squatted before leaping upwards. Unfurling his wings at the top of his jump, he caught himself on the bars and then slowly lowered himself to collect the weighted balls. Meanwhile, the dragoness collected another flask of water from the fridge and paused to watch his form.

“No short strokes either. Balls should almost touch the ground,” she teased as Meegi adjusted his grip on the heavy weights. The exercise wasn’t just for building flight muscles, as gripping the weighted balls also honed the muscles throughout his legs and abdomen. It was far from Meegi’s favourite exercise, but as he felt the burn through his chest as he lifted himself up, he knew it was something he had been neglecting. “I’ll see ya out there,” Looran added and dipped her head in farewell before leaving Meegi alone in the gym.

==Page break==

A dull thud of defeat drummed out across the gym as the heavy weight slipped from Meegi’s thighs and fell to the padded ground. Snarling in frustration, he was only two short of completing his goal of sixty. His hind legs felt like jelly as they dangled below him and shuddered in protest, while he lowered himself down to try to pick the ball up with his hind paws. Grunting with strain as he held himself at the lowest point of the exercise, he fumbled with the ball before accidentally kicking it away and watched it roll off as he curled his head down to look. Swearing under his breath, Meegi adjusted his grip on the ball in his forepaws before sighing and letting it fall to the ground as well. Throughout training, at any point they’d dropped the ball, they would have to repeat the exercise, and he could hear the words of their coach berating him.

“Dropped ball means no goal, take a lap, start again…”

Letting his wings slide across the padded beams, he slipped from the equipment and stumbled on shaky legs before forcing them to cooperate and carry his weight. The music was no longer deafening, but loud, and he let the beat of the drum dictate his pace as he began to walk a lap of the gym. Even though his coach wasn't there to grill him, the need to walk and stretch came second nature and offered a good opportunity to get blood circulating through his legs and wings. Rolling his wing shoulders as he walked, he shrugged off the fatigue that had been building over the last few minutes and lashed his tail from side to side to shake it loose.

Pulling his neck back as far as it could go to stretch the muscles down its length, Meegi panted through his mouth with budding exhaustion and forced deep lungfuls of air into his body to get himself ready for another attempt. Alone in the gym, with nothing but the exercise to focus on, Meegi found himself thinking about tomorrow’s promotional meeting and the probability of becoming a mascot for alcohol. The more he thought about it, the more his reservations were slowly eroded by what Looran had said about the team. When they worked together, they won. In the last game, where Looran hadn’t performed, the whole team fell apart trying to cover for her and they’d lost. The knowledge hung heavily on Meegi’s mind, and he began to understand that if he dug his heels in about the drinks company during the upcoming meeting, it could quickly become yet another instance of the team not working together.

He could already imagine the disappointment in his mother’s eyes, and as much as it would pain him to explain it to her, this was something for the team and not for him. They wanted the Dragonball player, not Meegi, on their bottles, and drawing a mental divide between the two versions of himself helped his conscience. He just hoped that his mother would see it the same way after he explained it to her. He guessed that by now, Tiiphani would have already told her father that he was reluctant to agree to the meeting, and he began to run scenarios through his head where he might be able to leverage his commitment to help Looran stay on the team. It would be difficult, but he hoped that if he could sell her strengths at the meeting, it might at least make it awkward for them to want to change the branding so quickly. He had no idea what the process would be to make the labels, but guessed they wouldn’t be in a hurry to cycle them out when Looran was still capable of playing.

Pausing at the drinks fridge, Meegi used a paw to open the door and dipped his snout into the cool box to collect a bottle with his mouth. Holding the chilled metal flask in his maw, he closed his lips as best he could around the cylinder and didn’t rush to open the lid. Instead, he sat back on his haunches and let the cold seep into his body while thinking through the next conversation he would have with Haanith. It was circular and wouldn’t likely help him too much when it came to actually speaking with the drake, but it distracted him as he cooled down.

Inhaling through his nose, Meegi tried not to dwell on the conversation and instead tried to focus on something else while idly fanning his folded wings in a poor imitation of flapping. In addition to flying, and being incapable of sweating, the large wings of a dragon helped dissipate body heat as the large flight surfaces were networked with an intricate spiderweb of veins that moved blood through the thin membranes. Usually the air rushing over his wings would offer relief from the heat of working out, but now in the calm airconditioned gym, Meegi had to stir the air around him to feel the cool.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted the crushed flask that Looran had discarded and turned his head to focus on it. It had been years since he had tested his magic to its full extent, and after waking up to a very concerned mother hovering over him, he hadn’t repeated the reckless activity. Instead, he had held himself back to small feats of telekinesis, like turning lights on or pulling remotes across the couch. Even then, he had been careful to only use his gifts while he was alone and where no cameras could see him. Thinking back, it had been almost ten years since he had really pushed his abilities to their limit, back when he had experimented with breaking branches off a dead tree in their backyard. He had heard of dragons passing out by overextending their gifts and had chosen to break the smallest branches first, slowly working up in thickness until discovering his limit. His mother had been understandably upset to return home from work to find him sprawled unconscious in the backyard, with the old tree stripped of all branches thinner than his toe. Now, having seen what Maalkorm could do, curiosity began to creep into his mind. Of course, he had no intention of harming anyone with his powers, but Looran’s remark about being unable to do anything looped through his thoughts as he looked at the broken flask.

Sitting back on his haunches, Meegi removed the cool drink bottle from his mouth and unscrewed the cap while glancing between the crushed bottle on the ground and the corners of the room. For privacy, and because of the ever-present risk that other teams would see them train, there weren’t any cameras in the gym. The fact that they were absent for a good reason didn’t stop him from double-checking each corner to be sure. Taking a drink from his flask, he let the cold water steep in his mouth for a moment before swallowing and placing his pristine bottle on the ground. Looking over to the door to ensure that it was closed and that he was alone, Meegi calmed his mind and took another deep breath to steady his consciousness.

He left the crushed bottle a few feet away from him and focused his mind on its crumpled form. It was still exactly where Looran had left it, and the impression of her paw had left the entire middle and mouth flattened to a fraction of an inch, while the base still held some semblance of its cylindrical shape. He felt the smooth and wrinkled metal with a tendril of his consciousness and, as he closed his eyes, began to feel his way over the complex network of folds and creases in the metal. Clenching his jaw, he began to apply pressure to the thin skin of the container and, for a second, simply lifted it a foot above the ground. Realising his mistake, Meegi shifted his focus and began to push on the walls of the flask in two different directions at the same time. It felt strange, as if writing with a pen in each hand and as a result his attempts caused the flask to tumble over itself. Letting the flask clatter to the ground, Meegi refocused his magic on a section of the flask where the walls had become pinched together. Delving the tendrils of his mind into the container, he slowly applied pressure while moving them across the walls until he found a point where the opposing forces meant the flask no longer wriggled. A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he pressed against the metal with more intent and clenched his jaw tight before a small crackle came from the crushed flask. Opening his eyes, he saw that the metal now had two new dents and smacked his lips as a strange taste washed across his mouth. He wasn’t sure what caused it, but whenever he exerted himself with magic, he often tasted something he couldn't quite place. It was as if drinking from a plastic bottle that had been left in the sun, mixed with what he imagined gasoline would taste like. It wasn’t enough to make him reach, but he recognised it as a warning that he was testing his magic.

Unlike the flattening press of Looran’s paw, his attempts to fix the bottle had resulted in two sharp, conical-shaped points being created. Understanding his mistake, Meegi closed his eyes once more and tried again, this time spreading out his efforts over a larger area rather than two small points. To his surprise, it didn’t take much more effort to make the flask emit a crinkling sound, and soon the largest depression had popped out. He could still feel the imperfections in the metal, but the sensation of fixing each one was strangely satisfying. It almost felt like popping bubble wrap, but in reverse. With every press from within, he would straighten a collection of creases but create another somewhere else in the metal. His efforts were beginning to tax his body, and he lowered his wings down by his sides as he continued to press and pull the metal back into shape.

Opening his eyes once more, he looked at the bottle with a small sense of pride. There were still pointed creases in the flask, but the vast majority of the dents had been pulled out and, other than the threads of the cap still being ruined, it looked as though it might still be functional. With enough time, he mused, he might even be able to work the metal to the point that it didn’t look ruined, but he left it as it was as he wobbled while sitting. Blinking rapidly, Meegi found himself feeling slightly faint and snatched up his half-full drink bottle to take a deep gulp of water.

A sudden knock at the door made Meegi jump and was the only warning he received before it was pushed open and Looran’s snout pressed through the opening. The sudden appearance of the dragoness caused Meegi to inhale sharply and half swallow, half breathe in his mouthful of water. “Yo, Meegi, Haanith is here. Meeting is starting early–” she called out breathlessly, as if she had just been flying at a sprint, and looked concerned as Meegi coughed violently. “You all good?” she asked and strode into the room with a worried look in her eyes. Unable to reply, Meegi nodded quickly and heaved again while holding up his water bottle to indicate what he had done. “Geez, Meegi, don’t die. We wouldn’t want that, would we,” she cooed in mock sarcasm and strode to his side.

Coughing sharply, before swallowing the water he had breathed in, Meegi flashed her a venomless glare and shook his head. “No, we wouldn’t want you taking my spot, now would we?” Meegi croaked and wiped his eyes with his wing wrists. His heart was racing at just how close he had been to getting caught by the dragoness, and he flashed her a smile to hide his guilt. “Are you sure I should be alone with you?” he added, causing the dragoness to lower her head below his and smile a fake, sinister grin.

“Oh, I would make sure I had an alibi,” Looran retorted before grinning mischievously. “Haanith knows I’m here. He sent me to get you. Seems like I’m still a part of the team… errand bitch… yay…” she continued without any joy in her voice, while still pulling her neck back into a proud S shape. “Fiital and the brooders are with him now in conference room one. The reserves are apparently joining at two,” she continued as Meegi took another, this time smaller and more controlled, sip from his drink. “Did you get to fifty?” Looran asked as she saw the heavy training balls scattered across the room.

“Oh yeah, did a casual eighty,” Meegi joked and lifted his folded wings above himself to stretch his flight muscles. “I can give you some tips if you want,” Meegi continued and rose to all fours. He tried hard not to let his uncertain legs wobble too much under him and focused on the fridge as he walked on three legs while carrying his drink bottle. Placing the almost empty flask on the counter so that it was easier for someone to collect, Meegi turned around to look at the dragoness. “How did Haanith seem? Is it quiet?” he asked, and his heart sank when the dragoness nodded with a knowing look.

“Yeah, barely looked at me,” Looran said sadly before avoiding his gaze. It saddened Meegi to see the dragoness look so crestfallen; after all, she was a brilliant flier and a very capable player. To remove her from the team after only one poor game felt harsh, and he hoped that he could say something that would make Haanith reconsider. They both knew that she would be wasted in the reserves, and if she didn’t fly in another game, she would be forever under the shadow of her recent failure. “But here’s hoping, right?” she offered, clearly more for herself than anything else, and Meegi nodded in agreement, missing the small flicker of her eye ridges narrowing as she spotted the flask on the ground.