Seeing that the dragon had been tended to, Faelan lightened up a little. Even Sam’s little pinch of generosity surprised him, and lifted his mood.<br/><br/>“So, dragon, you still didn’t give me a name, and I doubt you like going by thing.”<br/><br/>Lying flat on the table, looking up at the room’s ceiling, thinking back to the flashback as he waited. The square tiles seemed so constrictive, like everything else in the room. No room for improvement or creativity. He hated it.<br/><br/>“And before you start getting those crocodile tears again, I just want a name, not a backstory. We’re bonded, that doesn’t mean you have to like me, or that I have to like you. I just need to know what I’m working with.” Unintentionally, his tone was still aggressive, but not pointed at her.