Erica had stayed in the Municipal Muses Museum a while after her and Phil's exchange. She'd headed upstairs to think and admire the things around her whilst Howell and Lester hung around outside. She peered out of the window as she passed it and craned her neck to see beneath the balcony to the piano outside and saw her two 'new' acquaintances. One – Dan – seated at the instrument, and his friend standing beside him. They were either having a conversation or a duet.

Dan had missed playing the piano more than he realised. There were a few things that he missed from back home, but he didn't for a second consider his piano as one of them. The few friends he had besides Phil, sure. His bed, sure. His laptop and his sofa crease, sure. But never did he think to himself, 'man, I really miss my piano…', but now he realised how much he subconsciously had, in fact.

He stroked his fingertips over the keys. This piano was a lot fancier than the one he had back home. He played the first few notes of a song called Ingénue, thoughtfully, before promptly stopping.

"As I say…" he started again, resuming the sentence that he had left before he had started playing the piano, "There isn't much else we need to do here, really. We can head home as soon as you like."
He lifted his head to stare up to Phil, who looked as pale as death (as per usual) and watched his eyes flick to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure?" Phil murmured, sounding hesitant, as he raised his eyebrows, "It doesn't seem like we ought to leave yet. It seems like everything's resolved itself quite quickly… too quickly. Isn't there something we're missing here?"

Dan looked back down to the ivory keys and gave a drone of contemplation.

"I suppose there was one thing I thought we should do," he replied.

"Which is?"

"Investigate Drago."

Phil averted his gaze, sliding his thumbs through the belt-loops on his jeans.

"Forgot about that…" he said, flatly. He received no reply, but soon heard a tinkle of piano. It still wasn't certain what exactly Drago was, but whatever he or it was, it wasn't an innocent children's toy. No kid's toy blinks of its own accord.

"Sit," Dan ordered, out of the blue, and before Phil could ask where, dragged him down to sit on his knee, balanced very precariously.

"Dan, I'm not sure this is a good idea," Phil snickered, feeling very awkward as his friend put an arm around him to hold him steady.

"Hmm. I was thinking," Dan went on, completely ignoring him, "Maybe we ought to take the Howlters on a family day out to the bowling alley as one last day out before we head back home."

"That's such a lovely idea, Dan," Phil said, "Now if you would kindly let me stand up, that would be ace."

Dan sniggered, gave his friend a tight hug, and let him go, which Phil was very grateful for; he decided he really wanted to go back to Potter's Splay, investigate Drago and have a cup of tea, so he brushed himself off, stared at the piano, pressed the G note once and promptly strolled back into the museum, leaving Dan making some sort of strange, strangled noise.

When the duo returned home, They found a little note from the Howlters propped up on the kitchen counter. Or, at least, Dan found it; Phil had completely blanked it out, as as soon as he had gotten inside, he had taken his shoes off and collapsed on the sofa because it had been very hot outside and all that walking had tired him out.

The note told Dan that Dil and Tabitha had taken Dab down to the park to go fishing in the lake and let the kid run around the place and such, which was actually perfect because that meant that nobody was around to wonder why they seemed so suspicious of the stuffed dragon in Dab's room.

Dil and Tabitha never seemed to notice Drago's strange blinking – there was no point asking anyone to help because Dab wouldn't care, Dil would be busy and Tabitha was already in too deep. Whether that was to do with her childish trait was irrelevant; that dragon received more kisses and cuddles than her own husband did. Probably. There was no tally, but it certainly felt like it.

"They're out," Dan said, matter-of-factly, assuming that his friend knew what this meant.

He did.

"When do you think they'll be back?" He asked.

"No clue," Dan replied, laying the paper down, "But we better make the most of it."
Phil agreed and reluctantly picked himself up from the sofa. Out of everyone, Drago probably freaked him out most. Just the thought of having somebody or something watch one of his family members every day sent a cold chill down his back like somebody running an ice-cube on his spine. Or maybe not like that… he had never really had somebody run an ice-cube on his spine so maybe he wasn't one to say what that was like. Dan had once shoved a handful of ice down his shirt, though – that wasn't fun. Phil decided to stop thinking of frozen blocks of water and instead trailed after his housemate into Dab's bedroom.

Drago sat in his usual place in the corner, with his eyes peacefully shut as if he was having a lovely little nap.

Both Phil and Dan sat down, abruptly, on the carpet in front of him and squinted at his closed eyes. They didn't know when they would open again, but they wanted to be there for it. perhaps the staring would establish them as the superiors of the house. Yet Drago just sat and did nothing.

"He's not opening his eyes," Phil whispered after a good few minutes.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Dan hissed, sarcastically, giving the toy a poke on his blue snout.

"He looks sad," Phil noted.

Dan did not quite understand how his friend gathered this suspicion, or why he sounded so definitive about it. To him, Drago just looked… asleep.

"How do we cheer him up? He might open his eyes then," Phil proposed, but by the look on Dan's face, he assumed that his housemate didn't agree, "…A hug?" He suggested.

"You go ahead if you want to do that, mate," Dan answered, letting his eyelids fall half way down his eyes as if to accentuate his opposition to this idea. It seemed, though, that there was no other option for his friend, so Phil leaned forward and awkwardly held the stuffed dragon in the hopes that his eyes would shoot open and his and Dan's suspicions that Drago was sentient would be confirmed as correct.

"Try petting him," Dan said, waving his hand as if he was patting an invisible dog.

Phil frowned, discomfited, and uneasily stroked the toy's back, wishing he'd never suggested hugging in the first place. The next thing he heard was a shocked exclamation from Dan, who had gotten mixed up with the words 'eyes' and 'open' and instead had blurted out 'OPEYS' whilst flapping his hands like a distressed chick.

Phil fell back onto his elbows, leaning on the floor, and stared up to Drago's face with a mix of shock and horror that somehow his eyes conveyed perfectly.

"What did it look like?" He whispered, as if the dragon couldn't hear him if he spoke under his breath.

"Uhhhhhh it looked like eyes opening," Dan whispered back, equally as surprised.

"Do you think the hug helped?"

"I think so… Does with me."

"What do we do now, then?"

Dan bit his lip as he contemplated this enquiry. He hadn't thought this far ahead.

"Well, now we know he's sentient," he said, flatly. This did not answer Phil's question.

"Should we fight it?"

"No, no, no! We need to make peace!" He corrected, grasping Drago's clawed paw and shaking it, "My name is Dan and this is Phil. We were just wondering whether you were a government spy or something of that ilk."

Drago did not answer but stared straight ahead into the middle-distance as if pondering life, the universe and everything contained in it.

Dan said no more, as right then he heard the front door handle clicking and both he and Phil scrambled to their feet and fell over each-other, stumbling back into the living room.