There was something missing.
“You don’t want a plushie?” I asked.
His eyes flashed. Then he collapsed on the cushions with a grunt, his back to me. “C’mon, you know I’m too old for that shit...”
“Huh?” I said, genuinely surprised. “But you love your plush toys.”
An uncomfortable, embarrassed noise squeaked out of him. “I told you, I’m too old for that! I don’t need to hug a damn plushie to sleep anymore.”
I stared at him in confusion. Why was he acting like he was too good for his own hoard? It made no sense for a dragon to be ashamed of their passion.
As if confirming the coast was clear, Viol glanced over his shoulder, but when he saw my unbroken gaze, he jolted.
“What?” he blurted.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying,” I admitted.
Viol’s jaw dropped.
I turned towards the large chest at the foot of the bed. “They’re in there, aren’t they?”
Somehow, Viol’s face turned pale yet flushed at the same time. “No,” he said defensively.
I looked at him.
He was quick to change his tune. “Ugh, fine. I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Why are you hiding your hoard?”
“Because it’s childish and embarrassing, all right?” he snapped.
I frowned. Where did that sentiment come from?
“I’ve never thought that, Viol,” I said softly. “You know I’ve always admired your passion for your hoard. Besides, plushies are just plain cute. I’ll never forget the first time I saw one.” I smiled at him. “When I met Wolfy.”
Viol’s expression tightened as if in pain. After a second, the creases around his tight expression softened. “I know, Poppy,” he mumbled. “You’re a fuckin’ gem, that’s why.”
He crawled over to the chest and undid the latch with a grimace. While half hidden behind the lid, he pulled out a large dragon-shaped plushie.
“You want one, too?” he asked gruffly.
I smiled at his offer. “Sure.”
He rummaged for a second one before surfacing with a cute baby seal. He plopped it onto the bed, then shut the lid and crawled back to his couch cushions.
“There,” Viol mumbled.
“This guy is really cute,” I said, ogling the big-eyed fluffy seal plush. I squeezed him to my chest.
Viol’s sour look faded. He almost looked happy. “He suits you.”
I flashed him a smile. “What about yours? That’s an intricate design for a plushie.”
Viol scratched the back of his head. “Actually, Taylor made it.”
“He did?” I asked, surprised. “Wow... I knew he could quilt, but I didn’t know he could sew plushies, too.”
“Your friend’s pretty talented,” Viol remarked. “Pretty fuckin’ nice too. He didn’t have to go out of his way like that.”
