“Dad was a hard-working ice dragon from the Old Country,” he said. “Mum comes from southern fire serpent noblesse.”
He balanced a tall stack of paper cups on one talon and inserted it into the dispenser.
“Mixed marriages were tough back then, and her family never really approved, but they made it work. Their love, you know…” He shook his head. “Nothing like it.”
“But it hasn’t made life easy, has it?” asked the reporter. “I mean the prejudices, the stereotypes.”
He nodded. “It’s not easy being a slush dragon – half fire, half ice. You gotta have an inner strength. But Mum and Dad taught us it’s what’s inside that counts.”
He pulled a cup and stared at it for a moment, then breathed into it, drizzled some syrup over it, and proffered it to the reporter.
“Snow cone?”
