Do Dragons eat Mexican?" Hank wondered out loud.

"Dude, they eat people. Mexican is a vast improvement over people.

We need to pull over now," she screeched as she gagged. "Paper is not supposed to be made out of poop.”

"Did it taste like poop?" Hank inquired as he quickly pulled into a rest stop filled with church buses.

"Since I don't eat poop," Dima snapped, "I wouldn't know."

"But you do eat people?"

"I do not eat people," she yelled.

"But your people eat people?" I prodded nicely.

"Occasionally," she hissed. "And your people sniff each other's asses when in animal form..."

She had a point - and a foul one at that.

Sad really.” Avenant mused. “Trevelyan was part of a majestic race. Doomed and enslaved by lesser beings, but majestic, none the less.” His gaze swept over the rest of the group with a sigh. “I know the feeling well.

She'd survived Brandon. Just to die all over again. "Well, hell."
He smiled wanly at her. "Indeed.

Heat roared within him. Greedy heat. He wanted her....
She was in over her head, and it seemed... so was he.

So, Sheriff," she said. "How do you feel about a life of crime?