“Sounds good to me.” He was all too glad to leave that place that smelled like abandonment and stress. Escorting her outside, he changed into the dragon, scooped her up, dog and all, and headed home.

The rain came down in earnest now, and was threatening to turn into an outright storm, with lightning flickering in the distance. While his tough dragon’s hide provided all the shelter he needed, the woman and the dog he carried couldn’t repel the weather quite so easily. He shielded them as best he could with both front paws, and after he had landed on their front lawn and shapeshifted back into a man, he scooped the dog out of her arms, and they ran for shelter.

Once inside, she headed for the kitchen and he followed. She turned brisk and businesslike. “Please put him on the counter.”

“He’s filthy.”

Her blue eyes flashed, but her tone remained patient. “I know he is. Put him on the counter anyway. It can be cleaned later. I want to trim off that tangled fur while he’s quiet. You can keep him asleep for me, can’t you?”

“Of course.” Dragos laid the animal on the counter.

“Thank you, my love.” She reached up to give him a kiss, and some of his crankiness faded. “I’m going to make you a drink. Do you want coffee, tea, or brandy?”

One of the fascinating aspects of mating and marriage was the infinite complexity and variety of their communication with each other. On the surface, Pia simply asked if he wanted a drink, but in reality what she communicated was more nuanced.

He took a moment to puzzle it out. Right now, she was both praising him for helping to rescue the dog and soothing his irritability at thwarting his attempt to foist the dog onto someone else.

Was she placating him because she was apologetic? No, that went too far. She had drawn a line, and she wasn’t sorry about it. But she was offering to reward him for letting her have her way.

Communicating with her could be every bit as complicated as dealing with inter-demesne relations. It also had the added bonus of being much more enjoyable. Pleased that he was (almost) certain he had figured it all out, he replied mildly, “I’ll take a brandy.”

She smiled. “Keep an eye on him until I get back, okay?”

“Sure.” Laying his hand on the dog’s torso, he scanned to make sure it was still deeply asleep.

Within moments, she returned with his brandy and a pair of scissors, and as he took a seat at the kitchen table, she unwrapped the sleeping dog and trimmed around its muzzle and face. After that, she lifted its tail to clip the hair around its rear end. Sipping his brandy, he watched her work.