Page 80 - Fearless Females

Dragon: Drop that Icon!

Draco stopped huffing and puffing. His full head of steam
suddenly vented through asbestos ears and nose.
“Other ways? What are you suggesting, small person? Shall I sit
here for eternity (for I am in perfect health and I make sure to clean
out the cinders after every meal) staring at these miserable
counterfeits, knowing what they are? I’d rather convert them to
charcoal right now!”
He lurched toward the row of icons, conflagration in his heart and
diaphragm. Mikhaila, a therapeutic smile frozen on her face, stepped
between Draco and the objects of his caustic wrath.
“Please,” she pleaded pleasingly, “may I make a suggestion? We
can both achieve our goals if you are willing to follow my advice.”

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