Lying down in the dragon's tummy, I say to myself, jokingly: "And all these years, everyone said I had bad taste..." Instead of laughing however, I slap myself across the face. "<span style="font-style: italic">Great.</span>I'm inside some critter's gut and I'm making jokes about it..." Sighing, I try to sit up, which is difficult with the moist, fleshy folds wriggling around me. I continue talking to myself:  "I should have taken the dragon-slayer course at the academy..." I pause for barely a second before continuing: "Oh , WHO AM I KIDDING?! If I did, I would have been made a meal out of the second I graduated!" At this point I direct my attention to the creature that has devoured me: "HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"<br/><br/>(OOC: Back in my character's world, the academy was one of several orbital space stations where those who wished to become freelancers, could take a variety of classes to learn certain skills, or a course: A group of different courses for a specific "job". Hurray for somewhat pointless text)