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Rowan jerked back from him, face going as red as his hair. “No! Just…follow me.”

He walked away quickly and Milo followed, pouting…until he got distracted by the pictures on the wall, half-hidden by about five plants and surrounding shelves full of trinkets.

Family resemblance really was strong in the dragon gene pool. The whole Rangecroft clan were hulking red giants who had won the genetic lottery of attractiveness—the same eyes and scales, the same resting bitch face.

Milo wondered what his family would have looked like. Like him? Could he look in the mirror and have some indication of how his dad would have looked? Could he imagine a softer face and think of his mother? Was there a long-lost cousin out there that he didn’t know about? Would he pass a dragon on the street with white hair and wonder if they were related?

He sighed and went to walk away, only his feet seemed glued to the spot.

Milo felt the very sudden, but very pressing urge to leave something of himself among the shelves of trinkets and family knickknacks.

The compulsion was too strong to ignore and he felt in his pockets for something. Anything.

He pulled out a coffee cup keychain Ethel had knitted him to put on his keys and hastily placed it next to a framed picture, hiding it amid the foliage that trickled down from the higher shelf.

He was just pulling his hand back when Rowan approached. “I thought you were following. I was talking to myself.”

“Oh, uh, sorry. I got distracted.” A rush of endorphins flooded Milo’s brain as he hid his trembling hands behind his back.

Rowan examined him suspiciously but didn’t notice what he’d done. “Come on. I’ll show you some videos.”

“Sure,” Milo agreed, following him.

Something of me is here. Something of me belongs.

Notes:

Do you want a creamy potato recipe? Because here it is.

You will need 3 or 4 large potatoes. More is better when it comes to potatoes, we always say.

You will slice them with a mandolin so they’re really thin. Put whatever spices you like on them (we usually do salt, pepper, garlic powder, and some Italian herb mix). Drizzle with olive oil and mix them really well.

Then grab an oven-safe dish and layer them nicely until they’re flat. Pour a tiny bit of water into the dish, cover with aluminum foil, and throw it in the oven at 180 degrees Celsius (or 356 degrees Fahrenheit) for about half an hour.

Take them out, take the foil off, give them a little stabby stab with a fork to see if they’re done.

If they are, mix some cooking cream with a tiny splash of milk and pour it over the potatoes until they’re just about covered.

Sprinkle some grated cheese on top and put it back in the oven until it’s nice and melted.

ENJOY!!

11

Notes:

Cornelius and Terry need more airtime. RIP my OTP. Living on crumbs.

Rowan

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Rowan addressed the room as they all settled around a huge oval table in the conference room.

“You said it was urgent.” Troy was stacking folders on top of each other on the table, glaring at Rowan for making him come in so early. He hated peopling before breakfast. Extroverted as he was, he liked his peace and quiet first thing to cradle his numbers and facts. Rowan had thrown a wrench in all those plans.

Raina sat next to him in a blue power suit with shoulder pads and seven-inch stilettos, pleased as punch to be there, apparently. When Rowan had reminded her that she wasn’t a part of this project she’d simply said “Dad” and that had been that.

“There have been some proposed changes to the initial building design that will stall construction until the architects can get it back to us.”