"Hah! Did you here the one about the kid who'll do anything for a nickel?" "Oh good god, don't tell that one here!" "No, no, please do." Snigger. "Well you see, there's this lady, and her husband's gone out and she's feeling rather lonely. Her doorbell rings and there's this kid there, fifteen or sixteen, with her paper. She asks him to come in and he says 'For a nickel I will', so she gives him a nickel and he comes in. She asks him to sit down with her, and he says "For a nickel I will", so she gives him a nickel and they sit down. Then she asks him if he wants to, you know, get into some heavy petting and snogging and what-not, so he says,'For a nickel I will', and-" SLAM The door beside the trio of kids burst open, slapping against the opposite wall and sending a reverberating bang down the corridor. The kids jumped back, clutching at each other and staring wide-eyed at the open room. Thiameh Panonsine stood in the doorway, one hand clutching at each end of entrance and dark circles clearly visible beneath his eyes. He grit his teeth, sneering, and stalked forward. The children scrambled to push one another in front, hurrying toward the opposite wall. Thiameh pressed forward until the only place they could retreat to were the insides of the paintings lining the corridor. "Some of us,"he growled, lifting a finger and jabbing it none-to-gently into the collar bone of the tallest boy,"Have work to do, and even if they didn't, they don't want to hear a group of teenagers' sad excuse of a dirty joke. Some of us want some peace and quiet because they've been up for forty-eight hours and are trying to restrain the inevitable migraine for as long as they possibly can. Some of us, and I'm not going to say who, would much rather this particular group of teenagers shut-up and buggered off." "Y-yes, sir-" "Mr. Panonsine." "Mr. Panonsine, sir." Thiameh backed off a little, crossing his arms over his chest. The kids did little more than stare at him, open mouthed and blank eyed. Finally he rolled his eyes with a growl and pointed down the hall,"Go!" The three pushed themselves off the wall and scrambled down the corridor, muttering about grouchy old bags as soon as they thought themselves out of ear-shot. Thiameh ground his teeth and stalked back into his office. "Bloody goddamn teenagers!" he slammed the door shut behind him and collapsed at his desk. Steeling himself he let his eyes flutter shut, curling his lips back in a sneer and sucking air in between his teeth. Deep breath. Deep breath. Breathe. Thiameh exhaled sharply, running his hands over his stubbly scalp before picking up the papers scattered over his desk. "Hm,"he licked his lips, straining his ears. Not a peep sounded outside his door. Calm, he turned his attention back to his reading. Otto Von Bismarck chose to begin colonialism for several reasons, least of which was the desire to expand the newly unified German-" "Did you see the Sira-Pheonix preview? Aren't they just so cu-ute!" "I know! Those little stubby wings are just to die for, and the eyes!" "Imagine how gorgeous they'll be when they-" SLAM "For fucks sake! This is a museum, not bloody twitter-town for kiddies! Go find yourself a goddamn mall, for Christ's sake!" The girls grimaced at him and shot each other a pinched look. Thiameh threw up his hands,"Fine, fine. I give up. It's yours! The whole museum! Go tell your dirty jokes and twitter to your bestbestbestbest friend about how cu-ute little baby animals are. And, while you're at it, don't forget to knock down all the priceless artifacts on display and set fire to all our research." He flung his arm back, opening his door wider,"Here, here. Start with my work. After all, no one bloody cares whether or not Bismarck could-have, should-have, would-have stopped Earth's greatest genocide from happening." He slammed the door shut, turned sharply, and stalked down the hall. "It's not a bloody high school, for Christ's sake. Why don't we have a goddamn policy against teenagers. Jesus Christ!" "Gawd,"said teenager number one, planting a manicured hand on her barely clad him,"What a grump." "Yeah,"agreed teenager number two, pulling a face. With a 'humph' she turned back to teen #1,"But anyway, the sira-pheonix, are so fucking cu-ute! I would totally bond one." "Uh-huh, but there's like, no time left." "Yeah, and my parent's won't let me get a dragon. I'm not responsible enough." "Yeah right. God. Parents are so stupid." Thiameh slapped his hands over his ears and cursed himself, not the first time, for retaining his other form's sensitive hearing. .:.:.::.:.:. Cute. Cute! That was all those Sira-phoenixes were. What use were they? With their stubby little chicken wings and their googly eyes? What practical use did you get out of cute? And what else did they have? - Thiameh clicked a few buttons on the rented laptop, scanning the Abstract Destiny's website - Oh, this was great. Caetran. One to set fire on house and home - simply perfect for a museum - and some other large, muscled creature infused with terigon to make it happy and cute. And no doubt smart enough to run into walls. What happened to useful dragons? One who actually served a purpose other than to get large and eat everything. And what the bloody hell was with the size of the creatures? Good god, the Abstract Destiny fiddled with genetics, didn't it? How hard was it to make their dragons a bit more reasonably sized? Good lord! "Um, excuse me?" Thiameh's ears twitched and he turned a little, twisting his neck just enough to see the fellow addressing him. A dragon. Sort of. "What?" he growled, turning back to the computer to scowl at the previous images in front of him. "You dropped this." Thiameh twisted around again. The dragon (sort-of) was holding a book in his hand, entitled, simply, Bismarck. "It fell out of your bag when you were walking down the street. I picked it up, but I had to get some things first,"he lifted his elbow where a bag dangled from his arm, filled with little bits of metal and tools,"I hope you don't mind." Thiameh frowned, brow furrowed. He took the book, shoving it against the computer, and nodded,"Thank-you." The dragon beamed and wagged his head,"You're welcome!" Somehow he managed to get all eight of his legs to cooperate and turn himself around. He slipped out the cybercafé without another word. "Hn,"Thiameh shrugged and turned back to his website, absently fingering the spine of his book. That dragon (sort-of. Thiameh supposed there was a technical term for it, but damned if he knew. Dragons weren't his forte. German chancellors on the other hand...) had certainly been an interesting fellow. A useful one. Fetching tools, and books. He could probably serve some better purpose then to sit around and look pretty. Of course, he was big, and he'd get bigger. Thiameh snorted and clicked a few more buttons. Creatures as odd-looking as that were usually the work of Doctor Shroeder. Perhaps the DRM website had some information on that particular bree- "Well, well, well,"Thiameh stroked his chin. It would appear his little helper was from the Destiny, a sponsorling from a previous clutch who was forced to return rather unhappily to home sweet home. An abandoned dragon. Something about that didn't sit well with him. It wasn't as if Thiameh was attached to the little fellow. He didn't know his name, who he was, what he was, or why he'd been abandoned. He'd met him for all of fifteen seconds, which was hardly enough time to get to know someone. But there was something about that, about giving him up, that made Thiameh's stomach churn. He chewed his tongue for a few minutes before shutting down the computer and throwing Bismarck into his bag, a knapsack, mind you, Thiameh didn't take it upon himself to carry about girly things with him. Manbag or no manbag. He slipped out the door, hearing it shut with a jingle behind him, and stood in the middle of the corridor gnawing the inside of his cheek. Go home and finish his report? He flicked his gaze down the street where the elevators would take him to landing bay. Or...miss his deadline and.... "Fuck it,"Thiameh jerked his bag higher up his shoulder and stormed down the hall,"Who the bloody hell would abandon the only useful bloody dragon in the...history of dragoning!" He let a growl rip itself from his throat and shoved himself inside a shuttle. .:.:.::.:.:. "I'd like to speak to Dr.Schroeder." Thiameh wished to hell in back he had something to slap his hands on. Intimidation didn't work when you were up against a creature ten bloody times yours size, armed to the teeth with weapons, armor, claws, and, well, teeth! "The doctor's busy." "Oh, for frig's sake, it's about that abandonling he's got running around. It would take five minutes. All you have to do is ring him up, and if he's upset, blame it on me." The security guard shook his head. "Five bloody minutes!" "I'll do it!" a voice piped up behind him. Thiameh swiviled around to see That dragon tottering up the steps into the Destiny, his arms filled with a tall stack of blank paper,"Just one minute, I need to drop these off first." He disappeared into the ship. Thiameh watched him go with a grin. .:.:.::.:.:. "Good-evening Mr...?" As if he didn't know. He was a telepath, wasn't he? "Panonsine." Dr.Schroeder nodded,"I trust you're well." "Quite, thank-you,"Thiameh resisted the urge to grimace. Good god, he was busy, he didn't have time for chit-chat and small talk. He wasn't some little teenager with no job and no money, come to find himself his bestbestbestbestbestbest friend. Eee! Thiameh rolled his eyes, clasping his hands behind his back. "Most people don't bother coming to be to bond a dragon." "No, I suppose not, but I'm not here to bond a dragon." "Oh?" "I'm interested in...re-" Re-adopting? Re-sponsoring? Re-bonding? Thiameh shook his head,"I'm interested in the abandonling." "Lure'kymi?" the Doctor smiled, bobbing his head,"He's a little sweetheart, isn't he?" He's useful is what he was. Thiameh didn't care for sweet. Or cute. Or other sickeningly adorable word people were using now-a-days. "Have you spoken to him about it?" Thiameh shook his head,"Should I?" "Oh, probably. Do you want to bond or sponsor?" Thiameh shrugged,"Whichever he'd prefer?" The Doctor nodded,"Speak to him, Mr.Panonsine. It's his choice." .:.:.::.:.:. Asking...Lure'kymi, was that his name? Was all well and done in theory, Thiameh wouldn't be hurt if he said 'no' (although, if ever Thiameh was going to bond, this was it. He wasn't terribly fond of other dragon-species, after all), and Lure'kymi wouldn't be any worse off for turning down a request. But before any of that could happen Thiameh had to find the little bugger. And he wasn't exactly allowed to wander the Abstract Destiny without an escort. He made his way down the corridor toward the exit, peering through windows when he could but to no avail. The 'taur had made himself scarce. After what seemed like an hour (but couldn't possibly be, Thiameh had a better sense of direction than that), he declared himself lost. Utterly and completely. With a growl he collapsed against a wall, shoulders heaving forward. Thiameh was not one to believe in fate, that things were meant to be, but he didn't stumble across Lure'kymi (or the exit) soon, it would do him no harm at all to forget the whole fiasco and carry on with his life. And his essay. "Bloody hell,"he growled, fisting his bag in attempt to locate something to eat, or drink,"How in god's name do you get out of this place?" "Oh!" a bright and cheery voice rang down the corridor, followed by the exuberant patter of a few too many feet,"I'll show you if you like." Thiameh let his head fall back against the wall with a thunk, a tired smile flitting over his face. The dragonling appeared in front of him, grinning and wringing his hands,"I'm Lure'kymi Tah, by the way. Who're you?" "Mr. Pan- Thiameh." "Can I help you?" he leaned forward eagerly. "Yes,"said Thiameh, smirking now as he got to his feet,"I think you can."