Call Waiting - Dragon

Title: Call Waiting - Dragon

Summary: Response to Dalton Spence's challenge. Loved the other stories I've read, too.

Spoilers: for the basics of the season 5 finale, "The Gift".

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to: Cool Pete, Cool Jen, Cool Vic, and Cool Dot.

The Host swirled the last of his martini in his glass and watched blearily as the swizzle stick revolved. It had been a good night. A long night, with a few too many people singing "Genie in a Bottle", but a good night.

Morrie, a large man covered in tattoos, waved a hand in front of the Host's face. "I'm gonna do the glasses, boss."

The Host nodded. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

Something thumped on the door. The Host groaned. "Angel, much as I love you, big guy, I hope that isn't you. I've had enough with the bodies and the portals and the screaming."

The door swung open. It wasn't Angel.

It wasn't anyone.

Curiosity piqued, the Host walked to the doorway and peered outside. Something moved in the shadows on the other side of the street, and the Host caught a whiff of sulphur. He called, "Can I help you?"

Morrie yelled from the back of the bar, "You right, boss?"

"As much as I'll ever be," the Host responded, eyes still on the shadows. He watched as a scaly tail emerged, then the rest of the dragon followed. The Host felt his eyebrows climbing up towards his horns, which he'd had re-tinted earlier that day. He tried to laugh. "You don't have a crouching tiger in there anywhere, do you?"

The dragon shuffled forward and crossed the street with no regard for the red Jeep heading towards it. Brakes squealed. The Host caught sight of a woman behind the wheel, her eyes and mouth wide open. She reversed quickly, and sped off in the other direction. Foul smoke billowed into the air from her tortured brakes. The Host waved his hand in front of his face.

When the smoke cleared, he found a piece of paper dangled in front of him, impaled on a talon. He pulled it off delicately, and read what it said. "Waiter wanted." He shrugged. "You want to work here?"

The dragon opened its mouth. "Uh," it began, then it coughed. The Host ducked as a bright green flame shot out of its muzzle. "Sorry," it said in a deep, mild voice. "Yes, I need a job, please?"

"Okay," the Host said cautiously. "What's your background?"

The dragon sniffled. Its astonishingly large, dark eyes filled with tears. It sat back on its haunches and wrung the two front paws. "I came here two days ago through some big hole in the sky."

The Host quirked an eyebrow. "A dimensional rift? There's a lot of that about."

The dragon shifted from foot to foot, and huffed. A tiny blue flame danced briefly on the end of its nose. The Host's hair was blown back by the gust of hot air. "I lived by myself in a small village, doing my carving. One day, a ravening princess flew out of the sky and carried me off. She wanted to eat me!" The dragon's voice was full of indignation. "When the hole – the rift - appeared in the sky, she went crazy and flew off. I managed to

escape."

"That's a sad tale, friend."

Wiping its eyes, the dragon said softly, "I just want to live my life, y'know? I want to get a job, and earn some money, and open my business again sometime."

"Well, I am an equal opportunity employer. Can you handle delicate stuff?"

The dragon produced a tiny, carved horse from somewhere. "I *make* delicate stuff. I don't drop things."

The Host inspected the horse. It was exquisitely carved, down to the individual hairs in the tail. He patted the dragon on the muzzle. Its eyes rolled back, but it allowed the contact. The Host said, "You're hired. I think you'll have to come in through the back, though."

They walked towards the back entrance. The Host had a thought. "Hey, the oven's on the fritz again. You wanna earn some extra dough?"