Draconic Amnesty

Chapter 7 - Date Night

Wren hated wearing shoes. She disliked all clothing (regardless of the season), but she categorically despised footwear. The black sneakers, low cut with the label Converse All Star, suffocated her feet, making it impossible for her to feel the terrain. Even on the flat surface of Maguffy’s parking lot, she wanted to feel the hard asphalt against her pads and the stray pebbles between her toes. Shoes robbed her of those sensations.

She lifted her eyes to the clear sky and identified the constellation humans referred to as the Big Dipper. Day or night, nature’s clock existed, whether in the form of the sun, the moon, or the stars. Heaven’s timepiece didn’t rely on batteries or a flimsy band of leather strapped to one’s wrist. Though she was a human now, she wasn’t about to adopt all of their traditions, especially not their less rational customs.

It’s almost ten o’clock. Where is he?

Maguffy’s bouncer, a round man with a shaved head and a thick mustache, stood outside the door. Maybe he went inside when I wasn’t watching. Maybe he’s been waiting for me all this time!

She took a deep breath and slid off the hood of the Corolla. Although she wanted to strengthen her social skills, she still didn’t have much experience ‘mingling’ and would much prefer practicing with Elias at her side.

She walked with determination, placing her heel down first, gliding and swishing her hips as taught by Yuki. So unnatural. Did women enjoy walking this way? She wanted to claw out of her skin and run, taking long strides, the wind whipping her hair —

“Excuse me Miss.”

Wren jerked her head up, regaining awareness of her surroundings.

“I need to see some identification.” The black-shirted man’s deep voice hinted at boredom.

“Oh, sorry.” She showed her driver’s license, and was rewarded with a curt nod followed by the door’s opening. 

As she brushed past the man, the musky smell of his cologne receded behind the scent of tobacco smoke. A neon sign over the bar depicted a bearded dwarf with a green suit, green top hat and billowing pipe. With an amber beverage in its hand, it was similar to the unlit sign outside.

Few patrons sat at the dining tables. Most hovered around the pool tables and dart boards, or perched on stools at the bar itself, eyes glued to luminescent screens depicting some form of a card game. In the center of the room, a fireplace flickered, crackling drowned by country music blaring from a juke box.

She weaved between the tables and chairs and arrived at the gaming area. As she scanned faces in the crowd, a cacophony of laughter and conversation distracted her. Most were men, either smoking or drinking, or both. They were having a good time, especially when those colorful balls dropped into pockets lining the felt tables.

She’d studied the basics of billiards because it was a game Elias liked to play. Similar to humans, dragons loved games. But most dragon games involved significantly more physical activity, and linked directly to improving a survival skill. The preservation of their species —

“Lookin’ for someone?” a large man asked before sipping his beer. His eyebrows arched.

She shook her head, not wanting to start a conversation with a stranger, particularly not with someone that appeared slightly tipsy. He swallowed, the caloric liquid descending into his bloated stomach, threatening to snap a tattered belt stretched to its limit.

“The name’s Fred.” He extended a meaty paw.

The hand waited there, as if expecting something from her... Ah! She needed to make contact. With reluctance, she grabbed his calloused hand and shook, an awkward motion at best. After counting to five, she released. Did I do that right?