“And the team is back together again!”

When he saw that the grip worked properly, Coop extended the arm and pushed it into the dragon’s mouth as far as it would go. It was a good two feet short of the folder. He let his head drop onto his arms, knowing what he had to do.

“I don’t want to jinx anything,” said Phil, “but you’re not really going to do this, are you?”

“I don’t have any choice.”

“Of course you do. Pack up and we go for waffles. My treat.”

“Not tonight. I know I can do this. I have to.”

“Oh, man. I’m definitely going to have to sing.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Phil broke into a full-throated chorus of “Sweet Caroline.”

Pushing himself off with his arms, Coop landed flat on the beast’s tongue and slid forward, scattering piles of gold and diamonds, until he was knee deep in the dragon’s mouth. Before he’d even stopped sliding, Coop thrust the claw forward and grabbed the folder, which he crammed into a Velcro pouch on the front of his suit.

“Are we dead yet?” said Phil.

“We’re doing great.”

Phil went back to his song.

“Except for the singing.”

Moving backward out of the dragon’s mouth was a lot harder than going in. He couldn’t get a grip on the slippery tongue, so he had to worm his way back slowly, past the Bellicoses’ other loot. He was almost out when he caught his leg on one of the dragon’s front fangs and ripped through the suit, leaving a deep gash. The dragon growled sleepily as it tasted blood.

“Ah. I see what you meant. Now we’re dead,” said Phil.

Coop gave one massive push and shot out of the dragon’s mouth hard enough that he almost missed the wire, grabbing it just before he touched the floor.

Slick as a human Skittle covered in dragon spit, cut, and exhausted, Coop inched his way back across the wire to the dining room door. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight. Not for a couple of nights, probably, not with the image of the dragon’s gullet so fresh in his mind. He considered using the rest of the sleep potion to knock himself out tonight, but nixed that in favor of a drink. Many, many drinks.

“I thought we weren’t drinking anymore,” said Phil. “Not after, you know. Which brings me back to your intimacy issues.”

“I didn’t drink until after. And you’re my intimacy issue right now.”

“Careful. I know some Sondheim, too, and I know how you love musicals.”

“How’s this? Give me sixty seconds to feel good over a job well done, okay?”

“Okay. But can I say one thing?”

“What?”

“You forgot your jack,” said Phil.

Coop looked back at the dragon’s mouth, where the jack glistened.