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"Dad, NO! No dragonlings will live under my roof. You know the Condo board doesn't allow living, breathing fire hazards in the building! Isn't it enough that they let you keep Eddie?"
Martin looked up at his son from where he was crouched beside the large cardboard box, and gave his son his most innocent smile. "Fras, you don't honestly think I'd try to keep an illegal fire-breather in your apartment, do you? Snowflake's a frost dragon. They're much safer than fire-breathers. And they're not illegal to be kept in the city, or under Condo board regulations. I checked."
A small, scaly black face with white patterns (reminiscent of snowflake obsidian) poked out of a ragged corner of the box and purred. The dragonling's smoky topaz eyes looked pleadingly out of a face that was far too innocent to be anything other than a future accomplice in Eddie's ploys for treats.
"And, just think, Fras," Martin continued, now stroking the top of the little dragon's head; it closed its eyes and trilled happily, "we'll have this little guy instead of that noisy old air conditioner that Cam Winston made you get rid of."
"Floating preposition, Dad," Frasier muttered distractedly, wheels turning in his mind. "Cam Winston did make me remove the air conditioner, and I made him get rid of his, until he could get a silent one - the Condo Board will never approve him getting anything other than the most expensive one on the market after all the fuss he made about ours. And he is allergic to dragonscale. Dad."
"Yes, son?" Martin fought to keep from grinning.
"Just what size will, ah, Snowflake, grow to?"
"Floating preposition, son," Martin commented innocently. "And he won't get much bigger than a german Shepard or maybe a Great Dane. He was the runt of the litter, and nobody wanted him. His owner was just going to dump him in the street for Animal Control to destroy!"
Frasier stiffened in outrage, and Martin knew he'd won. For all of Frasier's bluster, he hated the thought of animals really suffering or being put down needlessly - even if he wasn't always fond of them messing on his carpets. Just one tiny hurdle, and Snowy would be living in the lap of luxury.
"Will he attract feral dragons?" Frasier asked suspiciously. "The Condo Board won't like that - especially near the roof or balcony."
"Not after he's fixed, and I made an appointment with a guy Eddie's, uh, V-E-T reccommended." THe little terrier gave Martin a suspicious look and slinked off in the direction of the bedrooms. "Is he learning to spell?"
"Not important, Dad. Alright. You can keep Snowflake. He can sleep in the kitchen until you get him house trained."
Frasier left, headed to a Condo Board meeting to ensure Cam Winston wouldn't be getting a new air conditioner this side of December, and Martin turned to Snowflake. "I sure hope you don't grow bigger than a Great Dane, boy. Frasier'd never forgive me if you reached full adult size. Now let's go play with Eddie!"
The mottled black-and-white dragon chirped happily and and climbed out of the box, undersized wings flapping in excitement.