Beauty in the Sewer

Once he had managed to procure some sustenance for his rumbling belly, he made his way to one of the other junctions to continue his hunt. There was no reason to waste the rest of a day in hiding just because of one curious woman, was there? Besides, Friday was coming, and he needed some things. He continued digging his claws through the mud and sifting out anything of value. Well, value to him.

As the light faded from the slits above him, he turned and made his way back down below into the belly of the piping system. There was nothing more to be found here. Time to return home. He continued down, weaving his way through pipes, sometimes being forced to press his wings flat against his back and stretch out as thin as he could go in order to pull himself through narrow pipes with just his front claws. That was truly a motivation to never gain excess weight. Though how, exactly, he would go about doing that, he was unsure.

The metal plate closed behind him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of his world - as small as it was - was cut off. Peace. Safety. Security. He padded over to a shadowy wall to the right of his doorway. He kept a few lanterns burning in the great arches of the subway station, and that was more than enough for him to see by down here. There was a nearly endless supply of oil in barrels left down by the cave-in at the far end of the station. Also at that end but on the other side, was a water pipe. It was one of the city's water pipes, but the spigot jutting out from it certainly did not belong to the city. He'd made it himself when the pipe had been shut off for repairs up the line. He wandered over to it and used a single claw to open the spigot. A metal bucket situated just so underneath it caught the flow of water and quickly filled. He shut it off then dropped in the coins into the water. After a few minutes of swishing, he dumped it out into a strainer and repeated the process with all of his other new items one by one.

Once he'd completed the task of cleaning his new treasures, he made his way to one of the closer arches and entered the room. No, it was not an actual room, but he liked to keep things as organized as possible, and he pretended each arch was a different doorway to a different room, even though once through the arch, it was just as open as in the middle of the main part.

This "room" held several battered filing cabinets. Most of them metal, but a few were wooden. They stood in a row of about ten or twelve like toy tin soldiers that had been stepped on once too often. Some were standing only because they leaned against another cabinet leaning the opposite direction. He scrutinized the various drawers before him then reached out and hooked a careful claw in the handle of one. This one held keys of various sizes and numbers, some on rings and some loose. His new acquisitions joined this drawer. Next was a drawer of rings, and on it went as he conscientiously sorted his items.

His mind felt peaceful and quiet when he sorted. Everything else was a mangled mess, but here in this place, everything was right. Finally, he made his way to the ticket booth and bed. Now he could rest.
 
Ingrid almost forgot to shut the door in her hurry. About halfway up the stairs to her apartment, it occurred to her she was already forgetting the places she was supposed to keep track of. Hurrying past the mess of a living room, Ingrid pushed her way into the only room with a door for some extra privacy. She never felt right sorting through her papers and notes on the couch. It was in front of the T.V. And she could never shake the feeling the T.V was watching her.

That, and sitting in there for too long reminded her it was due a clean. Ironic that she turned up her nose as wading through trash in the sewer but found no issue kicking aside cans and takeaway boxes at home.

Anyway, anyway. There was work to be done.
Sliding all previous papers off the desk with a dramatic swipe, Ingrid disregarded her previous obsession. Birds not being real would have to wait for now. Furious pencil scribbling and her incoherent mumbling offered her something to listen to other than the bustling life outside. Or the shouting overhead. Man, her neighbors had real balls to call her the noisy one when every night she had to sit through a detailed shouting match on a marriage being torn apart. It was rude.

Despite arriving home while the sun was out, when she took a step back to admire her work, her windows were dark. Not because of the blackout curtains, but because the usual outline of light around them wasn't there. The hours slipped away mercilessly, and despite being pleased with her map she had other things she needed to do. Call in sick to work, eat something, and...
Ingrid looked down at her clothes in disgust. Neglecting them for so long had ruined both her shoes and the bottom half of her pants, and a wash wouldn't save them now. And...God, was that smell her??? Better add a shower to the list, too.

All of the acts of self-care hardly took longer than an hour. One 15-minute shower, a microwave meal alongside the spare packet of beef jerky, and a pathetic performance over the phone to feign sickness for the third time this month later and she was laying in bed contemplating. Ingrid tried not to be alone with her thoughts too often, since no good ever came of it. This night was different, though. Her thoughts weren't excessively resentful or depressing like usual tonight. They were intrigued. Excited, even. For once she had something real to pursue and prove. If she proved this, people would believe in other things. Things they called her crazy for before. Things that all those years ago, she would be ridiculed and shunned for, even though she saw what happened with her own damn-!

......Nah. It wasn't worth going back down memory lane. Ingrid opted to roll over and sleep than to open that can of worms. She needed the energy for what was to come. As she fell into sleep, however, a prominent thought refused to rest: was she just doing this to prove there was more to her outlandish theories? Or was there maybe, just maybe...
Something more to it?
 
It was another day. Or possibly night. He honestly was not certain. He slept as needed, waking when his body told him he'd slept enough. Sometimes when he went up, it was daylight. Sometimes it was night. Only one thing helped him to keep track of what day of the week it was, and occasionally he found a paper with a date to tell him what month it was.

He picked his way toward the surface. Time to eat again. Most of his days consisted of mindless wandering, scrounging for food, or treasure hunts. For being a great beast of the sewers... his days were remarkably dull when scheduled like that.
 
This time, she was prepared for sure.
Amongst her previous kit, Ingrid swapped beef jerky for the slightly bigger (and in her opinion, tastier) offering of a chicken sandwich. It was painful how the days she was missing work were the days she decided to treat herself to a coffee and something to eat. Or more realistically: a coffee and something for someone else to eat. It smelt good, so she had to hurry on down to the sewer so she'd lose her appetite.

There wasn't much of a lead on where to find it, so Ingrid hoped the same place as yesterday would have similar results. It was close enough to yesterday too, so if she saw it again today that would at least give her the clue of a schedule.

The woman was in too much of a rush to pay the concerned looks she got any mind, slipping her way down with more practice and precision than the days before. Thanks to some old wellies and tattered sweatpants, the path of sludge didn't phase her too much. She still cringed at the feeling and the sound it made with an uncomfortable shudder. Really, she should be praised for her dedication to some things.

Following the path she took last time, Ingrid took care to keep her light angled downwards and ahead of her. She also kept the wrapped sandwich in her free hand to prevent any extra noise.
It also served as a projectile, should she need it.
 
He nosed about the pipes just down a few feet from where the woman was now. He did not catch her presence at first, his attention fixed on a certain problem he was having. As he had turned down the tunnel, he'd flicked his tail idly, and it had gotten hung up on a thick wire that hung down from above. Somehow, one of the thin, small spikes near the end of his tail had gotten stuck on the wire. He growled, twisting around as he tried to free himself, but he could not properly turn in this narrow tunnel. He tugged hopefully, but his tail would not budge, and he could not tell for certain if that was an electrical wire. It probably was, and if it was live, he would be dead. Fried like a horrible roadside food attraction. How charming.

A low whine followed by a rumbling growl escaped him as he tried awkwardly to back up, but of course his tail had twisted oddly, preventing his back legs to step back. He had enough room a smaller human could fit between him and the wall, but that was it. He was stuck. Well and truly stuck. Another whine escaped. What a way to die after scraping together a reasonable facsimile of surviving for so long.
 
Ingrid heard long before she saw, but by now the growl was recognizable. The whining sure was new though, and it strung another string from the broken, dusty instrument that was her sympathy. Whining was never a good thing. Growling wasn't either, but that wasn't the point.

Following the sounds of assumed distress further in, Ingrid halted when she finally spotted the draconic shade. Her light briefly flicked over its face before she stiffened in sudden shock. She was a lot closer this time. Before, there was a good chunk of distance between them; now she'd only given herself...Just enough to be out of reach. She was surprised by how close she managed to get. Very surprised. Suspicious, almost.
Momentarily setting aside her wariness she peered further down the tunnel for the culprit of such none-moving-ness, and sure enough she spotted a tail snagged in a loose wire. Wires in the sewer was such a stupid idea. The city was dumb.

"Heya, it's me again..."
She piped up, shuffling backward a little out of habit. Both carried items were being held to her chest, her body slowly shrinking back in sudden uncertainty. She was pushing it before. Getting closer than now was suicide. Hell, getting this close put her on paper-thin ice.
 
He jerked in surprise at the sudden blindness as a light played over his eyes. He hissed, turning toward the light and rearing back his head as best he could. His wings fluttered to fill the space, though there wasn't much to fill. He bared his teeth, jaws open warningly. How could he have been so careless! Then the light shifted out of his eyes, and after a couple of blinks, he could see the human a little better now. She stood back, her breathing heavy, the scent of perspiration heavy in the air, and still that lingering scent of blood. He growled again, rustling his wings warningly.

She spoke again. The sweet sound calmed him for a moment, and for just that moment, his head lowered a fraction.

Wait, trapped, vulnerable, dangerous! He lifted his head again, hissing warningly. He would not go down without a fight! He would not let this human take him down!
 
Now, she wasn't a wildlife expert, but National Geographic was one of the only running channels her T.V offered and she knew enough to get the gist of what was happening. Tail was stuck, and couldn't move. It would send anyone into a twist. Ingrid had half a mind to turn around and heed the warnings being shoved in her face clear as day.
Luckily for her, her mind never had a big input in whatever she did.

Ingrid couldn't put her phone away, but she could at least shove the sandwich into a jacket pocket. A ruined snack was better than losing a limb. As brave as she wanted to paint herself, her arm trembled a little when she slowly edged it forward.

"It's alright pal," She cooed, raspy voice trying to imitate something comforting, "we both know for a fact I couldn't hurt you if I tried. I want to help you outta there....But I don't wanna lose an arm. You get me..?"

She was sure it didn't. But hopefully the gesture was enough to get her point across.
 
He tried to move back but could not. As irrational as it was, fear spiked through him. This tiny human represented an unknown danger. The unknown was one of the most terrifying things in existence for any creature. Even a dragon like himself. Still... the sound of her voice soothed him. He stopped growling, but his eye still studied her, narrowed in suspicion, and his teeth still gleamed in the harsh light.

Still, she stepped forward. She was afraid, too, but still she moved. He could not see any weapons or traps on her, only a backpack and the faint smell of food. He shifted, claws scraping the stone with a metallic sound. He would not bite. Not yet. That did not mean he would not, but he would not bite now.
 
Despite staying put, Ingrid's extended hand drew back towards her body. Gritting her teeth, she felt her fingernails dig into her palm out of annoyance at herself. She needed to get a grip! She'd defied death twice this week: third time was always the charm. It was hard to know what to do, though- Ingrid had never taken time to interact with animals. Be it dogs, cats, or any other; she avoided them like the plague.

It was time to recycle plans. The food offer might have failed her yesterday, but today could have better results. Ingrid ate when she was stressed out and feeling trapped, so why shouldn't a sewer monster?
"So I don't know what giant lizards eat."
She started, deciding that she would keep talking as she reached into her pocket to pull her bargaining tool out.
"Some eat whole zebras and some eat bugs. I, uh, couldn't really afford either anyway. So...I got you this. It isn't beef jerky, and--"
Ingrid paused to look at the food in her hand. She couldn't put it on the ground, that'd be gross. Her eyes darted between the dragon and the sandwich, panic spiking in her mind when she realized what she was going to do.
"It's something, I guess. Here."

Squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away, Ingrid stretched her arm out towards the maw of this monster. Her hand was only just gripping the end of the bread, and she had to tip it upwards to ensure she didn't drop it.
"It's for you. Please, for the love of God, only take the sandwich."
 
He shrunk back a little as she held out her hand. Then he stood frozen. She wasn't moving. In fact, she was deliberately not looking at him at all. The growls stopped. He watched suspiciously, yet nothing seemed to be happening. Jest a hand held out in offering. Moving with great deliberation, he lowered his head to her hand and sniffed. It smelled like food? Curious. Why would she- no, this was a trick! It was likely poisoned or something! He took another sniff and blew out. Soft, heated air coiled around the human's arm and stirred up her scents. No, there was no mystery scent on her or in the food as far as he could tell.

He drew away, head still down on her level, and watched to see what she would do next. He still did not accept the sandwich even though his mouth watered at the smell. He allowed himself one longing look then put his steady gaze back on her face. Nope, not worth the risk. But, oh, it smelled good! Nope. Not worth the risk. He grunted softly.
 
Ingrid stayed as still as she could. She couldn't prevent the shaking even if she tried. Her arm flinched when she felt the approach and had to forcefully press her arm to keep it forward when she felt the warm breath trail up her limb. Her eyes remained shut throughout, not wanting to disrupt something that might be working.

Hearing a faint grunt, Ingrid took it as a no. She peeked down her hand, and then looked back up to meet the dragon's eyes. She was a little disappointed, yeah, but she couldn't complain. If it wasn't hungry, it wasn't hungry.
"Not a fan of chicken either, buddy? You got some hidden high-grade kitchen hidden down here?"

Since it wasn't dipped in sewage, Ingrid huffed and took a bite herself. Food for thought. She needed to figure out how to she was going to get back there to untangle that tail.
"Hmph. I wanna get you out from there, bud. I do."

Using her torch to make a point, she pointed back at where its tail was snagged. She didn't know what to communicate beyond that, so she just kept looking between the two and hoping for some confirming reaction.
 
Oh. She had just taken a bite. That said as clearly as anything that it was not somehow poisoned, he supposed. He watched her suspiciously a moment longer as she chewed. Then her light went to his tail. He twisted his head to see. Being a predator with nearly 360 degrees of vision came in handy from time to time. He could look over his shoulder at his tail without fully taking his eyes off of her. He looked back at her fully then at his tail. She wanted to free his tail. But... why?

He pulled his tail peevishly, causing the wire to twang slightly, but it was secured to the ceiling and not going anywhere. He would likely snap it before it came loose. He whined again before he caught himself. This was suboptimal. If he was the type, he would be cursing, but that was not a habit he kept. Though perhaps if ever he were to swear, now might be an acceptable moment.

She wanted to free his tail...

He lowered his head down to her level and cocked it to one side, eyeing her with one golden eye. Hmm, he supposed she was not capable of hurting him, but how was she going to do this? He supposed it would not hurt to let her try. Things could not get too much worse than it already was, and his only other option involved a lot of waiting.
 
She could feel herself wincing when the tail twisted to try and free itself. It reminded her of getting a leg caught in barbed wire or something along those lines. Yikes, it made her feel phantom pain in her leg.

Ingrid made eye contact again and smiled a crooked grin. Not being used to smiling either, it only lasted mere milliseconds before it was back to the default light frown. Her fear had downgraded to high alertness, which made it easier to keep her nerves steady when she moved closer to get a better look. There wasn't a lot of room, and it was on the ceiling, but if she could squeeze past: she could cut the wire. She had the penknife. And if she stood on her tip-toes, she could reach.

It was all a question of if she'd be allowed to. Ingrid, at this point, had shuffled her way to beside the dragon's head, freezing occasionally if it moved. Not looking its way, Ingrid's other hand snaked forward a little again, as another offer to take the food.
"I'll need my hands for this. If you don't eat it, it'll go to waste."
 
The sandwich was being offered again. He sniffed it thoroughly, taking his own sweet time as he examined the potential hazard. Then his tongue flicked out, curled partially around the offering, and snapped it into his mouth. It wasn't much for a mouth as big as his, but he rumbled softly, his eyes partially closing as he savored the taste.

How long had it been since he had last tasted something like this? Years! Oh, it was savory! But with a touch of sweetness. Soft! But the chicken gave it texture. Oh, the miracle of taste that was a chicken sandwich! So delicious! So gr-

WAIT.

He wasn't watching the human.
 
'Right, let's make this quick.'

Ingrid nodded to herself in triumph when the distraction took its effect. No one could resist the godly combination that was only-a-little-bit-processed chicken and borderline stale bread. It would give her the hands and time she needed to at least slip by and get to work.

It wasn't much of a squeeze. She was short, and years of skipping multiple meals a day had paid off in the form of a thinner than average frame. The combination made sliding against the wall to get to the tail easy as it could be. Glaring down the wire that was causing all the trouble, Ingrid rummaged around for what she needed.
"Heya big guy, I know that was a sneaky move."

Ingrid pat the scales as a way of letting it know she was there and exactly where she was.
"But it won't take long. Don't smack me, and we'll all be good."
 
He flinched at the pat, the touch foreign to him. He shifted away as best he could, which was not very well at all. He actually shivered with anxiety as he watched her moving around down by his tail. How humiliating. Both the situation he had trapped himself in, and the fact that he, a massive dragon, was trembling in fear from a tiny human. Was not she supposed to be more afraid of him than he was of her? Yet, despite his attempt at rationalization... he was still shivering. His scales looked almost blurry with the rapid movement. What was she doing?

Then he realized what she was going to do. Cut the wire. Wait! It might be electrical! What if she cut into it and was electricuted? He rumbled a soft warning, not sure how else to warn her.
 
The warning given was chalked up to discomfort, which meant sadly it wasn't heeded. From where she was standing she could knock the wire a few times to try and slip the blade above. If she did that, all she had to do was tug down, and the bothersome bit of tether would be gone. It was hard to focus with the shaking, but again, she couldn't blame it---
....
Ingrid found herself feeling weird using the pronouns 'it'. 'It' sounded like it was a one-time occurrence she'd only seen once. But, what else could she use? What did she have to go off to guess? Off the top of her head...She was going to gamble he was a he. Girl lizards sometimes had pretty colors, so her logic had science behind it!..Sorta! Aw hell. Next thing she knew, she'd be giving him a n--

Zzzst!

"MOTHERFU--"
A loud spark fizzed from the wire when she cut it free. Ingrid, shocked and, er, literally shocked, was sent barrelling backward into the wall with a loud slam. By every divine out in the world, that hurt. Thankfully, it wasn't anything fatal, but it was enough to knock her through a painful loop and leave her slouched down in a buzzed haze.
 
He couldn't help a wince as the human slammed into the wall. Oooooo, that was going to hurt for a long time. Hopefully she had not bitten her tongue. That kind of a bite could be seriously damaging. At least she was still moving and groaning, so neither the zap nor the strike against the wall killed her.

Gingerly, he poked her with his claw. Nope, still alive. He was glad of that. He really did not wish anyone ill, he just did not wish ill upon himself, either. Carefully, he slid thick, black claws that were suprisingly nimble under her skinny body and lifted her out of the muck. Now where to put her... He folded down his wing, the leather creaking and cracking as he laid it down and laid her in the fold. There. Now at least she had some protection. His wing wasn't exactly comfortable with its ill-cared for leather and stiff ribs. He stared down at her, waiting patiently.
 
Ingrid's body at least reacted to the touch. She wasn't unconscious, thank god. Everything just felt loud. Her body tingled with an unpleasant sensation she couldn't accurately describe. Like...Burning. In fact it was exactly that: burning. Huh, guess she could accurately describe it after all. Amongst the internal housefire amongst her nerves, she felt herself being moved. That was weird. She was too dizzied to care at the moment, however.

Groaning like a disgruntled zombie, Ingrid tensed her back at the feeling of a new surface. It felt like...A new leather couch rich people bought to look nice, and completely throw any sense of comfort in the trash. And...Wait. Why would a leather couch have scales..? No, double wait-- Why would there be a leather couch in the sewer???

Green eyes eventually fluttered open, and Ingrid squinted confusedly at her surroundings. That was the roof of the sewer. A bit more visual investigating would land her peering up at golden, reptilian eyes.

............................

Ingrid felt the small remains of color drain from her face. Before she had balls because she was standing and had the option of running. But now she was laying down. Laying down on what she guessed was a part of his body. Ah, that would explain the leathery-scaley-couch-ness.
"...H-.....W-....Wassup, big guy?"

She managed to choke out, feeling her voice split and crack with each syllable.
It was better those words, than the entire dictionary of profanities that recited through her mind at record speed. She was so very, very dead.
 
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