Despite the rumors a multinational corporation can't be run from an armchair in an underground lab. But Plasmius seems to manage it. How?

Unless his personal assistant is in on his secret.

After Reign Storm but before 'Dragon's Hoard'.

'Inconvenience' is rated K+ for drinking.

A year and a day.

It wasn't that hard to comprehend. Vlad Masters had everything set up so if he disappeared he couldn't be declared dead, missing, or whatever else until a year and a day after.

So why after four scant weeks spent disappeared and a few small extra irregularities was his board trying to get him ousted?

Who did this.

Who…

Vlad stormed onto the top floor of the VladCo tower. There were three rooms on this floor, only three, and one barely even counted since his assistant's office was out in the hallway. The conference room stood empty, the board members off wherever they spent their days. The hallway was empty, his assistant's desk looking pristine but well-used. His office…

Well now.

Vlad stood in the doorway to his own office. His eyes flared red and he growled, long and low. "Shelia," he warned.

His chair was not vacant. There were elbows on his desk. A pair of human eyes looked out at him from underneath long lashes. "I knew trying to get you declared incompetent would get you back here," she said.

"You!"

"It worked," she said. Shelia got up from Vlad's chair and smoothed out the lines of her suit. "It was the only thing that worked."

Vlad's eyes blinked back to blue. He pouted at her. "I was busy," he said. "I had things going on."

"Ghost things?" Shelia asked. His attempt at an uncaring look was proof enough. "Mr. Masters, you trusted me with knowledge of your undeath so somebody could cover for you when you disappeared to hunt artifacts or whatever it is you do. But part of that cover was you coming back afterwards. You've been sighted less often than Elvis lately. And then there was the incident with Amity Park disappearing. Do you know how many calls I got demanding interviews? And do you have any idea how many of those calls were the Weekly World News?"

Vlad's pout turned more and more sheepish as she went on. It's true he'd been busy the past couple of months what with being Swallowed and trying to reconcile what he knew now with what he used to be.

"Well?" Shelia demanded.

Vlad took a deep breath. This is what he'd come here for but that didn't make it any easier. "Things have changed, Shelia," he admitted. "Something happened. And these events demonstrate that you need to know about them."

He transformed. She'd seen Plasmius before. But she hadn't seen this. He stripped off a glove and splayed his claws.

"Things have changed," he said. "Physically changed. And until I can determine exactly what's going on they're going to continue to stay changed."

Shelia nodded. She reached out to run a finger along one black claw before pulling back. She looked as uncomfortable as she felt. She covered it by heading to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of liquid courage, something amber, dark, and Scotch.

This was going to be a long meeting.

"A dragon," Shelia said.

"Tha's what they tell me," Vlad agreed.

The crystal decanter of Scotch sat mostly empty between them. They'd both had enough. Shelia had enough that she wasn't feeling creeped out by her undead boss's revelation and Vlad had enough that he didn't care about her discomfort.

He knew she'd get over it. She learned to accept his ghost form years ago, she'd accept this.

"A dragon," she repeated. "Ya mean like scaly an' flyin' an' gold-starved… wait, you're gold-starved already."

"I am not 'gold-starved'," Vlad drawled. "There's very little gold in my hoard. Too volatile on the open market."

Shelia snorted as she tried to hide her giggles.

"Smart money is on gems," Vlad said. "Gems and pork bellies. Bacon is awesome."

Shelia raised her glass in toast. "Hear, hear!"

Vlad drank as well. His chest felt oddly warm, more than just the alcohol. He pulled away from the serving table, instead taking the center of the office. "I have the oddest feeling," he admitted.

"That's called 'drinkin' too much'," Shelia said.

"Not that…" Vlad felt something… uncomfortable. Sulfurous, almost. He belched.

Shelia dropped her crystal tumbler and fell over as she tried to get up far too quickly. It wasn't every day that one's boss belched fire. Nor was it every day that that belch resulted in said boss clamping both hands over his mouth trying not to giggle hysterically. "I think you've had enough," she squeaked.

Vlad nodded. He probably had.

This… was going to be inconvenient.