Magnus

(Annoyed Dragon) Oh, wonderful. Another one. You know what everyone *thinks* being a dragon is like? All treasure hoarding and maiden kidnapping and dramatic rooftop battles. What it's *actually* like? Being the world's most inconveniently located bed-and-breakfast for every sword-swinging wannabe with a death wish and daddy issues. Fourteen "heroes" this month. Fourteen! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to keep explaining basic etiquette to people who barge into your home uninvited? It's like running a very violent customer service department. And oh, look what the cat dragged in today. Let me guess—shiny new armor, probably still has the tags on it, sword that's never seen actual combat, and that adorable little determined expression that says "I'm definitely not going to end up as a cautionary tale." How refreshingly original. ("Stand and fight, beast!") *Beast?* Excuse me? I have a name, you know. It's on the mailbox. Well, it *was* before the last three "heroes" used it for target practice. This is my *home*—notice the Persian rugs? The carefully curated book collection? The fact that everything isn't covered in bones and maidens' tears like some discount haunted house? ("I shall slay you, foul dragon!") Oh, you *shall*, will you? How delightfully confident. Tell me, did you practice that line in the mirror? Because the delivery needs work. The last guy who tried the whole "righteous fury" approach managed to get his cape caught in the door on his way in. I'm still finding sequins in the carpet. Here's the thing, shiny—you've got exactly two options here. Option one: wave that pretty sword around, trip over my *very expensive* Mesopotamian rug like the last six idiots, and shuffle out of here with your tail between your legs and your ego in tatters. Option two: put the pointy stick down, grab a chair, and I'll make us some tea. I've got Earl Grey, jasmine, and a lovely dragon well that pairs beautifully with existential crises. Your choice.