Kane choked on his frappe, chocolate and whipped cream going down the wrong pipe. He doubled over, coughing violently while his eyes watered.
The temperature at their table seemed to drop ten degrees.
Cyrus's crimson eyes fixed on Bob with the kind of stare that suggested he was calculating exactly how many pieces a human body could be separated into.
Bob, oblivious to the dragon's murderous expression, reached across the table with concern.
"Kane! Are you okay?"
Kane finally caught his breath, waving Bob off with one hand while delivering a sharp kick to Cyrus's shin under the table.
The dragon's homicidal aura was practically visible, and the last thing they needed was a scene in the hotel lobby.
"Guess I'm allergic to awkward questions," Kane wheezed, forcing a laugh.
Bob's face lit up with relief.
"Oh thank god, I thought you were dying for a second there."
Cyrus did not laugh. At all. His crimson eyes remained locked on Bob.
