“But haven’t you heard? The whole roasting thing is so last-century,” the girl said.

“Is that so,” the dragon asked skeptically.

“Uh-huh! The Eastern dragons brought over a new thing. Dragon sushi!“

“Dragon…sushi.”

“You eat me alive, on a bed of rice, with wasabi and pickled ginger garnish. It’s more nutritious than cooked food—and if I can say so, it looks like you need all the nutrients you can get.” She warmed to her subject. “It might even be that fancy cuisine is the cause of all your stomach problems in the first place, not whether you were eating virgins or not.”

The dragon blinked. “Hmm…I had never thought of that.”

“And if you send me down with a torch, I can yell up to you whether I see any new ulcers forming before you digest me.” Then she turned on the waterworks. “Oh, please, Mr. Dragon, won’t you fulfil my last request? I wanna know what it feels like to be eaten, and I won’t know that if I get cooked first.”

The dragon was beginning to feel distinctly overmatched.