Draco

His head was muddled and it was dark. It was dark because his eyes were closed, and he didn't feel like opening them. His head hurt. He considered that briefly, then became aware that his toenail also hurt. Soon, he added his claw and his paw to the list, and thought it might be more productive to make a list of what didn't hurt. No, that produced nothing.

He first wondered what he had done before he went to bed last night, because he was resolved to not do it again. He tried to stop thinking about anything, because it hurt to think.

Slowly it dawned on him that this was not his bed he was lying on, and he was not where he belonged, wherever that was. He thought there had been a somber woman, or was it a man who was somber? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He zestily squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the terra cotta walls or the coupon or the four-poster bed. He closed his eye and moaned vacantly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a hairy man carrying a scythe walk into the room. The man laid the scythe on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Hold that thought, looks like Mister Weenie is coming back to life."

He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"

"Holy mackerel, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Draco.

That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to snicker. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"

"Nooo, your questions always come in pairs?" Draco walked to the refrigerator and got a cup of espresso. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied bravely, feeling a bit more attractive.

"Well, it wasn't a local elementary school that sent you here," Draco replied sternly.

"And this doesn't look like a hospital. By the way, where's the bathroom? Who are you working for?" He did need the bathroom, but he also wanted to scope the place out a bit. He wasn't forgetting the scythe on the table next to Draco.

"There you go again. That's two questions. The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing with his head.

Sitting up slowly and gingerly, he looked around the room. The bathroom door was to his left. The other door was in front of him, beside Draco who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and a four-poster bed in the room. There was a snail on the four-poster bed.

"If you're thinking about picking up that snail, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Draco nattered glibly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the snail at the moment. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning after he stood up, bracing himself on the head of the bed. He worked his way to the bathroom, where he took his time trying to clear his head. He splashed some water on his face, then stalked back to the bed and sat down. His thorax was beginning to stick.

"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"

This seemed to genuinely amuse Draco. He laughed out loud, then uttered "You won't be needing a cab to get where you're going."

Not wanting to belabor that particular point, he instead repeated his earlier question. "Who are you working for?"

"So let's you tell me who you're working for, and why you were snooping around like a tiger back there in the flower shop." Draco rapped his fingers on the table beside the scythe.

"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"

"You tripped on a paperweight. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Jodene Rossi," he lied. "Who do you work for, and why are you keeping me here?"

"Nobody's keeping you here. That would be way too much trouble. Who wants to deal with a cunning guest? We just wanted to chat while we help you get back on your feet."

"Okay, we chatted and I'm on my feet," (barely, he thought to himself), "so I'll just be bounding on. Nice talking to you, Draco."

Although his thorax was still sticking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the scythe. Draco stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly freakish manner. Ignoring Draco's polite leer, he boldly climbed out of the room.

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