Jenkins walked as quietly as he could down the hallway from the workroom to the Annex kitchen. He carefully opened the door, slipped quickly inside, then eased it closed again. He went to the china cupboard and took out a heavy ceramic bowl, carried it over to the countertop and silently set it down.
He next went to the tea pantry and gingerly opened that door. He stood in front of the shelves for a moment, studying his choices. He settled on a tin of Assam, and plucked the large metal box from between the neighboring containers of tea. Cautiously he closed the pantry door, gritting his teeth at the faint creaking in one of the hinges, then slowly carried the tea over to the countertop. Grasping the tin and its tightly fitting lid with both hands, the Caretaker very carefully attempted to pull the lid off. Just as it separated from the tin the lid slipped from his large fingers and, to his horror, bounced over the edge of the countertop and onto the tiled kitchen floor with a deafening clatter. Jenkins instantly froze in place and held his breath, eyes wide, his sharp soldier's ears straining for the slightest sound.
A few seconds later the old knight closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders as he heard it: The dreadful skittering of tiny claws rushing over hardwood flooring, growing louder with each passing moment. He winced as he heard the sound of a small reptilian body skid along the hallway floor and then thud against the kitchen door, dropped his white head in defeat as he heard the soft, whining grunts and scrabbling of claws as Franklin the tea dragon squeezed himself underneath the door. The little beast had heard the lid crash to the kitchen floor fro, all the way up on the second floor of the Annex where he'd been napping; that sound meant only one thing to Franklin.
Dinnertime!
Resigned to his fate, the immortal began to pour some of the tea leaves into the bowl. In the blink of an eye, Franklin was at his feet, jumping up and down and crying loudly for his dinner. He jumped up behind Jenkins and latched onto the man's coattails. He climbed up his back and then wrapped his strong, sinuous tail too snugly around the immortal's throat, using it as an anchor while the dragon stretched his greedy forepaws out toward the bowl of tea.
"Dammit, Franklin!" Jenkins muttered as he patiently unwound the wildly squirming reptile from around his neck. "One would think we never feed you from the way you carry on so!" He again dropped the dragon onto the kitchen floor.
No sooner had his feet touched the ground than Franklin leaped up onto the tall man's shin, sinking his claws into the thin wool fabric of his trousers and began to clamber up the man's leg. Without another word or even looking, Jenkins reached down to pull the dragon off of him, again dropping the loudly protesting creature onto the floor in one smooth, practiced move. He repeated the action several more times as he struggled to measure out and add some nutrition supplements to the tea dragon's food, his ears no longer even hearing the plaintive, skull-piercing wailing of the hungry dragon.
Once the food was ready, Jenkins turned and began the arduous trek across the kitchen to the large plastic mat that marked the animal's designated feeding place. The Caretaker had to watch every move he made, lest he accidentally step on or trip over the frantic, clingy dragon. Franklin wove in and out between the man's legs, pawing at his trousers, still crying incessantly. The immortal had almost reached his goal when Franklin suddenly darted between his ankles just as he was taking a step, the little tea dragon squawking in alarm as he was caught between Jenkins's large feet. Yelping loudly in in surprise and fear that he had injured the animal, Jenkins stumbled and lost his balance, toppling over onto the floor face-first like a falling tree, his long, wind-milling arms scattering dried tea leaves and supplements all over the kitchen floor. The bowl flew from his hand and landed hard against the breakfast table, shattering.
Jenkins rolled over onto his back and simply laid there, a huge sigh of capitulation escaping him. Franklin began rushing all over the kitchen in a frenzy, greedily gobbling up the scattered tea leaves as fast as he could, fearful that some other creature could come along and steal it from him.
A few seconds later the door swung open and Cassandra Jenkins burst into the room.
"Jenkins! Are you okay? I heard something breaking and you yelling and..." The young woman stopped in her tracks and stared around the kitchen, taking in the sight of her prone husband on the floor, gazing vacantly up at the ceiling, while the little green tea dragon rummaged crazily all over the tiled floor, his long tongue whipping out to lap up the dried tea strewn about as fast as he could. The Librarian burst into laughter.
"I'm so pleased that you think this is funny," groused Jenkins sourly. Cassandra went over to him and knelt on the floor above his head.
"Poor baby!" she cooed, bending over to kiss his forehead. "How many times does this make now? Twenty-five? Thirty?"
"I've lost count."
"He's still young, sweetheart," she said, trying to smooth his ruffled feathers. "He'll calm down as he gets older, all animals do." Jenkins only snorted in response.
"I used to be so good with animals," he sighed melodramatically. As if to underscore his words, Franklin bounded happily toward Cassandra, trilling a greeting as he used the immortal's stomach as a springboard to launch himself into her arms.
"OOF! Franklin!" Jenkins yelled irritably. The tea dragon paid no attention; he was too busy licking Cassandra's laughing face and grunting delightedly. She let Franklin have his way for a few minutes, then pulled him off of her and plunked the wriggling creature down onto her husband's chest.
"Here, you hold onto him," she instructed. "And I'll get a broom and sweep up the rest of this tea mess. Then I'll make you and me a nice, soothing cup of rosehip tea; how does that sound?" She suddenly had the immortal's attention, though he feigned disinterest.
"I suppose," he said in a studiously bored tone. "Perhaps we could have some of those snickerdoodles—or whatever nonsense they're called—that you baked yesterday with our tea as well?" he added, as though it were an afterthought.
Cassandra had to turn away from him and press her lips together to keep from laughing at the irony. All the time she was baking those cookies yesterday, she constantly had to shoo Jenkins away to keep him from eating all of the raw cookie dough straight from the mixing bowl. He next begged her to let him lick the mixing bowl and spoon, then she had to fight to keep him from stealing and wolfing down all of the cookies as soon they came out of the oven. It had been like trying to bake with a 1,500 year old preschooler!
She looked down at her husband still laying on the floor, now roughhousing with and patting the little dragon, the man's dark eyes betraying his affection for the creature. His belly now full of tea, Franklin yawned loudly, then curled up on his adopted human's chest, laying his head against Jenkins's neck. The dragon's eyes were half-closed as sleep loomed over him. Cassandra couldn't help but smile at the sight; they might be completely different species, but they were still two peas in a pod sometimes.
"Of course we can have some cookies," she said, going to the broom closet to fetch a broom and the dustpan. As she began to sweep, she overheard Jenkins whispering conspiratorially to Franklin.
"Did you hear that, Franklin? Cookies!"
