"The thing is," Buffy coaxed, resting her forearms on the butt of her axe, "you're gonna make the entire tunnel collapse. And if this tunnel goes, the next one goes. And if the next one goes, the next one goes, and before you know it all of South Station is a big pile of rubble. You'd put a lot of people in trouble."
"I take your point about the Silver Line," the dragon acknowledged, "but beyond that I question your grasp of urban engineering."
Buffy shrugged. "Hey, I've made my share of city blocks fall in. But I'll grant that subways aren't my specialty. Silver Line, then. That's plenty to talk about for a start."
The dragon, a great sinuous beast the colour of tarnished brass, rolled its eye toward the third party in the conversation. "With a dragonslayer standing ten feet off, snuggling his broadsword? I recognize the spells on that steel, vampire. They won't work on me; I am Mboitatá, not Draco, but I take the gesture of ill faith as intended."
Spike unpeeled from the wall and raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just the reasonable precaution in this scenario. You're the thirty-ton fire-breather. And the sword came this way."
"Please," Buffy interjected. "No bad faith. No sword-swinging, no fireballs. Honestly, we found you because you're brushing really close to Urban Wildlife Management's radar. We're not affiliated, but we do have an inside man. We're just checking in on his report that you or something has been freaking people out around here. With the tremors and the flames. And the possible eating of innocent public transport users."
"I eat bottlecaps," said the dragon.
"And belch them out at dangerously high temperatures?" Spike inquired.
The dragon looked sulky. "Urban wildlife management. Friendly term for pest slaughter. But who are the real encroachers?" It glared at Buffy and Spike. "I can't help it if I belch."
Buffy frowned at the train tracks under her feet, one, two, don't touch the third. "It's wasted energy, right?" she said slowly. "I mean, it used to be combat fire, but there are so few of you guys left that you never exercise it anymore."
"Combat," said the dragon, looking mildly impressed. "Also incubation. But that function, too, is obsolete."
Spike stirred, fingering the bottlecap he'd kicked up earlier.
"What if we could..." Buffy paused and regrouped. "You do like it here, don't you? Given the choice, you'd want to stay?"
The dragon steamed through its nose. It said, "I am a claustrophiliac. It is dark and warm. I like the smell. There is no dearth of litterers." It said, "I am fairly ancient, but not unadaptable. I am urban wildlife after all."
Buffy said, "Or maybe not. Listen, I want to go talk to a girl I know. I have a feeling you might like each other. How would you feel about becoming an urban engineer?"
January 15, 2008
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