"Hey, Stragaaa~!"
Straga paused with a carton of orange juice mere inches away from his lips.
Sitting at the counter, waving flirty fingers at him was an older, slightly tipsy Fiona.
"Been a long time. You look good. But then again, that's not really much of a surprise, is it?"
Straga gulped, slightly afraid for reasons he couldn't easily pinpoint.
"Don't make me burn you alive on your first day back."
Monica was decidedly less stunned than Straga was and had no problem drawing a line in the sand.
The flames crackling above her head were growing so large that they scorched the ceiling.
Fiona leaned forward and stared at her with an equally lustful look. "No need for all that, firebrand. You tickle my fancy just as much."
Monica's flames slowly returned to their normal height.
She was now also afraid for reasons she couldn't pinpoint.
She and Straga held each other timidly as if they were not great dragons in front of an old human woman.
