Lilah really did enjoy getting to use the lasers. It was especially fun when she could show off her aim and her flying skill at the same time. For example, when Tempest was headed directly for an asteroid field.

Lilah spun the wheel with one hand, causing Tempest to veer left, and played the joystick with the other, carefully altering the gun's angle before she tapped the stick and fired. On the screen, one asteroid burst into chunks, the pieces drifting away from each other, propelled by the blast. Then another. Lilah grinned wildly and maneuvered Tempest between the pieces.

To her right, Haze gripped the arms of his seat and leaned left. He wasn’t really being pulled left, the artifical gravity was stable, but habit was a hell of a drug. “Is this safe?”

“That depends on how you define safe!” Lilah spun Tempest into a spiraling roll.

Haze, eyes on the screen, looked uneasy.

“Don’t watch the screen,” Lilah suggested, without taking her eyes from it. “All the gravity is inside the ship, you’re not even really feeling it.”

“Right,” Haze said through his teeth.

Distraction time.

“So,” Lilah started. “Can I ask you some things about dragons, or would that be rude?”

“You can ask. I might not answer.”

Lilah grinned. He still sounded a bit uncomfortable, but already lighter than when he’d been focused on the screen. “First question is something I’ve been curious about for a long time. What’s it like living in the arctic circle?”

Haze started, like he hadn’t expected that question. His tail flicked. “What?”

“What’s it like?” Lilah repeated, firing another shot at an asteroid. “Some humans like to tell their kids that there’s one human who’s allowed to live there, at the North Pole in fact, but everyone older than about eight knows that’s not true. Humans haven’t even tried to go to the arctic circle since the treaties.”

“That’s not true.” Haze ran his claws through his spines and crossed his arms. “We get a few every year.”

“Except for outlaws and illegal adventurers,” Lilah amended. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Haze curled his tail upward, silent for a moment before he said, “It’s… colder.”

“And?” The screen didn’t show any more asteroids. Lilah spun her chair to face Haze and leaned back. “Anything else? What’s snow like?”

Haze tipped his head to the side. “You’ve never seen snow?”

“I grew up in Florida. That’s, uh, that’s in the south. Pretty near the equator. There’s almost never snow.”

“Oh.” Haze seemed to consider this. “It’s sparkly and white. And cold.”

“Could’ve gotten that from a photo…” Lilah actually had seen snow many times; she’d gone to college in Michigan and spent most of her non-holiday time on Earth in D.C. these days— though that wasn’t much. But she figured a lack of knowledge about things that seemed basic to Haze would be more likely to get him to open up.

Pushing now wouldn’t help, it would be too obvious. So instead, she slowly spun the chair in a circle, looking up at the ceiling. One, two, three… four… five… six…

“It’s beautiful,” Haze said quietly. “And dangerous, mostly when it’s still falling and there’s no visibility. All sorts of things hide in the snow.”

“Including ice dragons, I take it.”

Haze nodded. “Bears, too, seals… sheep, reindeer, birds… whales…” His tongue flicked briefly out of his mouth at the last one.

“Do you have a favorite?” Lilah asked. “I’ve always liked snowy owls, they’re beautiful.”

“Whales,” Haze said decisively. “Very tasty.”

Lilah froze. “A… Are you… I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I am not. They are tasty. And some of them are big enough for a family dinner.”

“Never had whale,” Lilah said thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s kosher.”

“Ko…sher?” Haze sounded out the word uncertainly.

Funny, Lilah thought dragons knew all languages. It had always seemed like they did. “It’s… religious food restrictions.”

“Mm.” Haze nodded. “That makes more sense, contextually.”

“Contextually?” Was this a point of connection, perhaps? Something Lilah could use to draw out any slivers of information. “What do you mean by that? You knew the literal meaning but not how it’s used?”

Haze grimaced, the long bridge of his nose crinkling briefly. “Yes. The gift of tongues, humans used to call it, though you once ascribed it to your faerie folk myths. Idioms and figures of speech are more difficult, as are any other non-literal meanings; those take practice. I am only practiced enough in English and Russian.”

Languages widely spoken in two of the countries closest to the arctic circle. Lilah supposed that made sense. “Were they difficult to learn? The idioms, I mean.”

“Not especially, it only took time interacting with humans. Learning your customs.”

So he'd been around humans. Been on a human spaceship, perhaps? “Do you have a favorite?” she asked.

“Not really. They are all perplexing.”

Lilah considered this for a moment. “All right, fair enough. Does Draconic have any idioms?”

“Of course.”

“Like…?”

Haze grimaced again, but it seemed more thoughtful this time. “Er… there’s one that means something like to be a penguin among seals… Or another, like a bear in a blizzard.”

“Oh? What do they mean?”

“A bear in a blizzard is when… something appears out of nowhere that surprises you. A penguin among seals is someone who shouldn’t fit somewhere, but takes to it remarkably well.”

“I’ve got a new one for you.” Lilah spun her chair around again, watching the room blur by. “A dragon in space.” She slowed the chair enough to watch Haze stiffen. “It’s when someone shouldn’t fit somewhere, and is incredibly unexpected… but they’re a penguin among seals anyway.”

“Oh,” Haze said softly.

Lilah smiled the dragon way and stood, shoving her chair back. “Dinnertime, if you’re hungry. I am.”

Questioning Haze further could wait a couple hours. There was always tomorrow.