It was a dark and stormy cup of tea. Claws make for wonderfully intimidating ends to your fingers, which is important if you’re to enjoy a successful career as a dragon, but they can make some of life’s simpler tasks – such as handling small teaspoons – quite fiddly.
Rhys watched the swirls of insufficiently mingled milk dance a merry tango across the ballroom of the tea’s surface and tried his best to help mix the drink with a slow rotational agitation of the mug. His dad’s advice had always been to blow a cyclone round the rim, but his naturally smoke-tinged breath always made the resultant brew taste a little too much like lapsang souchong for Rhys’ liking.
He sighed, sipped, and after a brief pause to savour all the leafy warmth, turned back to face his new assistant. “What was I saying, again?”
“You were saying that crumpets should be slightly overdone on the top,” replied Lucy, a 20 year old geography undergrad who was seriously considering murdering the person from the University of Cardiff’s careers office responsible for organising work experience.
“Ah yes. Crumpets should be slightly overdone on the top and underdone on the bottom,” said Rhys. “That way you have a fighting chance of having some of the butter stay on the surface, but when some does melt past the top it gets sponged evenly through the rest and you can use the unsealed base to mop up any butter residue from the plate.”
Lucy said nothing.
“That’s why you can’t use a toaster,” said Rhys.
“Right,” said Lucy. “No toaster.”
The two of them sat there. A clock ticked noisily through the awkward silence. A dog barked somewhere in the distance and Rhys took an unnecessarily slurpy sip of his tea.
“Are you saying you want some crumpets?” asked Lucy.
“No. I’m just making conversation, that’s all.”