“I mean, I could just restart the boiler myself. I got my fire back.” Spike gestured with his hand, a casual motion that caused a bunch of metal plates and pipes to spill from his arms as he hurriedly tried to arrest the spill. Handy was painfully aware of the dragon’s assertion, having seen the drake, rather alarmingly, bring a rolled-up letter bound by a thin red thread to the bridge while he had been at the opposite wall monitoring the gas pressure in the envelopes. Bold as you like and proud to boot, having come to the area of the ship with the most space and least amount of flammable objects, the dragon had held the letter up and blew out a burst of green flames that burned the letter. Handy had watched, half in shock, as the ashes of that very same letter had flowed up in an artificial updraft and out of the bridge. He had later learned that the magical gust had carried the letter out of the open airlock and to God knew where.