Mm, [ a noncommittal answer, eyes tracing the movement of her hands as she works, ruminating on what he's just heard. it could be just a story, but he had asked her to tell her own if she wanted; she looks like an open book at first glance, but there are plenty of creases and folds for secrets to hide in. he's never been much of a pusher, content with letting people bloom in their own time and merely being there to watch it — and Aerith, she's got plenty of big, bold petals to stretch. he finds himself smiling along with her, in spite of the dramatic close to a sad ending. ]

Maybe the dragon was coming to rescue them.

[ it's his turn to steer the story now, as he reaches back to the serving shelf behind him to pass her two plates; she'll be needing these eventually. ]

Huge and long, with fangs as thick as a man's head, [ a description he begins to paint with a tongue for the dramatics, his hand waving to paint a mockery of its long body in a stroke. his thumb becomes the bottom of its jaw and his fingers the head, pinky and pointer finger raised to imitate its antlers. it slithers through the air in swimming curves, his body remembering how the Rainbow Dragon had moved in spite of it being severed from him and exorcised years ago. it had occupied so much space in him. ] With fur and long whiskers that shimmer iridescent in the sun, coming to devour the bad people who locked them away.

[ his 'fingers-mouth' makes a show of chomping at great bits of air, a bent wrist throwing the head back — and he imitates its screeching roar in a low, quiet falsetto before looking back at her for approval. ]

Yeah? A better ending.