Rosemary let her eyes trail over Sissix. Polished green scales. Festive quills. Artful swirls painted around her claws. The way her trousers hung just so over her strange hips. Even when goofing off amid old crates and edible bugs, she was lovely. “You’re too pretty to be a dinosaur,” she said. She felt her cheeks flush as she said it. She hoped it didn’t show.
