Rainbow Magic (Dragon Rider #1) {EDITING}

Chapter Fourteen: The Ghosts He Sees

"Having fun babysitting?" a voice sounded far too close to his ear for Oz's liking, a hand poking at his cheek before he slapped it away gently. It wouldn't do to push away the few people he could call friends.

Oz sighed, glancing at the crate of dragon eggs he was looking after. His cute students were no doubt knee deep in mud and other various substances found in forests. They'd entrusted their eggs to him, and he was in charge of keeping them safe till they came back with cloaks, of course. "I'm fine, Cynthia," he grumbled, praying she wasn't in mother-hen mode. Nothing went well for him when she was – he couldn't get drunk, he couldn't mope in his apartment, and worst of all, he couldn't train to his heart's content.

He let go of the bar, landing quietly on the hard-packed dirt beneath him. It was his preferred training ground, and unfortunately Cynthia knew it... hence why she always found him, much to his disappointment.

"I'm training, C," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But you could do with a break, Mister," she said, prodding at his bare chest. "Hot damn... Ethy, why can't you have abs like these?"

Ethan scowled, standing alongside her, as per usual. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he hissed, wrapping an arm around her neck as he pulled her into a chokehold. "Don't call me that in public!"

"But in private is OK?" Oz smirked, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't you start," he muttered. "Come on. We're going to get lunch, and you're going to tell us what's been going on with you."

"I'm fine."

"So that's why we spotted you leaving the pub last night..." Cynthia folded her arms, barely fazed by the arm wrapped around her throat. Oz rolled his eyes. She'd been in that position far too often courtesy of the man she liked.

"We know you, idiot," Ethan said, walking back towards the entrance to the training grounds. "You don't get drunk unless there's an issue, so get your damn backside over here already."

Oz sighed, wandering over to the bench where he'd left his things, throwing a shirt over his head to put his somewhat distracting abs out of sight. Cynthia had an unhealthy obsession with them as far as he was concerned. "Fine, fine," he mumbled, "I'm coming, stop nagging, mum."

Ethan glared at him with an expression that would've made any lesser man flinch. He wasn't a lesser man, though, and he'd seen far worse... done far worse... "If you were anyone else, you'd be a bloody smear on the ground."

"Anyone below your ranking, you mean," Oz said, pulling on his warm black coat, sighing as he felt the warm hum of a familiar magic at his back. "Oh, and you might want to loosen up your grip a bit," he added, sparing their female friend a glance. "She's turning purple."

Ethan scowled, releasing his captive, the pair of them soon dragging him across the city with his wheelable crate of eggs close behind, yanking him inside one of the quieter restaurants in the Eastern Quadrant before he could slip away like he usually would.

Glares were met with folded arms, silence with Cynthia bugging the living daylights out of him, and Ethan was just being his prickly self. "Talk," Ethan grumbled, having finished ordering his usual salmon pasta. He liked fish, though Oz wasn't all that surprised. He was a bit of a cold fish when they'd first met.

Of course, that was before he met Cynthia.

"There's something fishy going on with you, Rin," Cynthia purred, earning a swat on the head from her almost-boyfriend.

Ethan glared at her. "No puns."

"Spoilsport."

"Don't call me that either," Oz grumbled, interrupting their little argument. "Not now."