Shyan takes a big swig from her tankard. “You can’t just visit in a dream or something?”
Abia smiles gently and gives a single, subtle shake of her head.
Fassn’s beard is covered in foam from his ale, most of which he’s emptied down his front in an expedited effort to consume it. “Does the dragon pay well, Abia?”
“Working for a dragon,” Cang says, his voice dripping with venom. “Rather uncivilized, no?”
“Didn’t you see his butler and the fancy silk pillows? That dragon’s got more class than the four of us together,” says Shyan, just as Fassn belches loudly to seal her point.
Logan Bright — Works 