The Fox And The Last Dragon

Cyrus gripped Kane's elbow, steering him toward the exit with unexpected urgency.

The dragon's face remained impassive, but Kane felt the tension radiating through their bond.

"What's going on?" Kane whispered as they slipped past a cluster of laughing guests.

Cyrus didn't answer. His eyes scanned the crowd methodically, his jaw set in a rigid line.

Outside, the Bentley appeared almost instantly, as if summoned by Cyrus's mood.

"Seriously, what happened back there?" Kane tried again once they were inside. "One minute we're talking burgers, the next we're making a getaway."

The city lights flashed across Cyrus's face as they pulled away from the hotel. His silence filled the car, heavy and deliberate.

"You know, the whole mysterious brooding thing gets old fast," Kane said, crossing his arms.

"If something's wrong, I should know about it."

Cyrus's gaze remained fixed on the window, watching the streets blur past.

"You'll get your burger first," he finally said, voice low. "Then we'll talk."

Kane slumped back against the leather seat, frustrated but hungry enough to accept the terms.

Whatever had spooked the unflappable dragon would have to wait until after dinner.

The diner's neon sign cast a blue glow across Cyrus's features as they pulled into the parking lot.

Kane's nose twitched the moment they stepped through the door—grilled onions, sizzling beef, and fresh fries filled the air.

"This place doesn't seem your style," Kane said as they slid into a vinyl booth.

Cyrus removed his suit jacket and folded it precisely beside him.

"Appearances can be deceiving."

A waitress with tired eyes took their order: double cheeseburger with everything for Kane, black coffee for Cyrus.

When she walked away, Kane leaned forward.

"Spill it. What happened back there?"

Cyrus's expression darkened. He reached into his inner pocket and slid a folded note across the table.

"Someone intended the letter for you. They gave it to me instead."

Kane unfolded the paper, his ears flattening against his head as he read:

"Your little fox has sharp instincts. Too sharp. Tell him to stop digging before he ends up in pieces, just like his apartment."

The paper trembled in Kane's fingers. "When did you get this?"

"A waiter handed it to me." Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "He disappeared before I could question him."

Kane slumped back against the booth. "So they know I'm investigating. Great."

Cyrus stared at Kane with narrowed eyes, clearly taken aback by his casual reaction to the death threat.

"You don't seem concerned," he said, voice low and measured.

Kane shrugged and took another massive bite of his burger. Ketchup smeared the corner of his mouth as he chewed, savoring the first real meal he'd had in days.

"Been through worse," he said after swallowing.

"Death threats are practically part of my job description. Last month, a banshee swore she'd turn my ears into wind chimes."

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, grinning.

"Sorry about ruining your fancy gala, by the way. We left pretty abruptly."

"I didn't want to attend in the first place," Cyrus replied, his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug he hadn't touched.

"These events are political theater. Nothing more."

Kane nodded, then glanced at Cyrus's untouched coffee. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen the dragon eat anything at the gala either.

"Do you ever actually eat?" Kane asked, gesturing with a french fry. "Or is brooding your primary source of nutrition?"

Cyrus's expression remained impassive, but Kane felt a flicker of amusement through their bond.

"I require less sustenance than you," Cyrus said simply. "Dragon spirits metabolize energy differently."

Kane popped the fry into his mouth. "That's convenient. No wonder you can afford all those fancy suits."

He leaned forward, suddenly curious. "So what do you eat? When you do eat, I mean."

Cyrus's gaze shifted to the window, watching raindrops begin to trace patterns down the glass.

"Rare meat. The bloodier, the better," Cyrus said, his voice dropping to a lower register. "And certain minerals. Gold, primarily."

Kane nearly choked on his fry. "Gold? Like, actual gold?"

A hint of a smile touched Cyrus's lips. "My kind once hoarded it for a reason."

The waitress refilled Kane's soda, eyeing Cyrus's untouched coffee with mild concern before walking away.

"Back to the threat," Cyrus said, his expression hardening. "Someone is watching you closely enough to know about your apartment and your investigation."

Kane wiped grease from his fingers, his playful demeanor fading. "Yeah. And they're connected enough to infiltrate your fancy party."

He pushed his plate toward the center of the table, the remaining fries arranged in a haphazard pile.

"Whoever they are, I'll find out soon enough." He stretched, his shoulders popping as tension released. "Been a hell of a day."

Exhaustion hit him suddenly, the adrenaline crash making his eyelids heavy.

The investigation, the bond, the shopping spree, the gala, and now death threats—it was a lot, even for him.

"Want some?" Kane gestured to the leftover fries. "Hate to waste food."

Cyrus eyed the offering with thinly veiled suspicion, as if Kane might be trying to poison him.

"They're just potatoes," Kane said, amused.

After a moment's hesitation, Cyrus reached for a fry, examining it before taking a careful bite.

His expression remained neutral, but he continued eating them one by one.

Kane watched, fascinated by this glimpse of the dragon doing something so ordinary.

There was something almost endearing about the way Cyrus approached the simple task with such seriousness.

When the last fry disappeared, Cyrus dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood.

Kane pulled out his wallet, counting out crumpled bills.

"I've got this one," he said, sliding the money across the table.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "There's no need."

"Yeah, there is." Kane pushed the cash forward with determination.

"I can't have you paying for everything. Bad enough you bought me an entire wardrobe today."

"It's pennies to me," Cyrus replied, his tone matter-of-fact rather than boastful. "The equivalent of you purchasing a stick of gum."

Kane stood his ground. "Still. My meal, my money."

The waitress collected the cash with a worn smile, and Kane left a generous tip that made her eyes widen slightly.

As they walked to the car, Kane bumped Cyrus's shoulder playfully.

"So, ready for our first night as official roommates? I call dibs on the bathroom first."

Cyrus's expression soured, disgust evident in the slight curl of his lip. The bond between them pulsed with his discomfort.

"We are not 'roommates,'" he said, the word dripping with disdain.

"You are occupying space in my residence due to an unfortunate magical circumstance."

Kane grinned, undeterred. "That's exactly what roommates are, scale-face."