Work Text:
"DAD, EDDIE GOT INTO MY IMPORTED PROSCIUTTO AGAIN," Frasier yelled across the apartment from the kitchen.
Martin, seated in his recliner, scoffed, "he's been sitting on my knee all day, getting in the way of the sports pages, Fras, and you ever heard of being innocent until proven guilty, right?"
"Then whom may I ask is responsible for devouring it - and just what is in your sandwich?"
"PB and J, I'm still digesting the steak from last night," Martin replied, "and there's someone else living here you're not thinking of."
The grey-and-white dragon appeared behind the island in the kitchen and trilled an apologetic whistle, tipping his head on one side, even as a sliver of prosciutto hung from his mouth, and wagged the tip of his tail at Frasier, while Eddie turned around and tucked his face into Martin's shirt in irritation.
"Oh, who's a clever dragon, opening the cupboard door all by yourself," Frasier cooed, giving the smug dragon a scratch under his chin, "you are, yes you a-are, yes you are!"