“This wouldn’t protect against rain. Or any element, for that matter,” they mused aloud. Milo turned with his own poncho and shrugged. “No, but tell me that isn’t a great fabric. Soft as hell.” The dragon led them from the closet, and Xander called after him, “Let me get this straight. You own not one, but two useless ponchos just because they feel nice?” Milo glanced over his shoulder, confusion clear on his face. “More than two, actually. That a problem?” “No, it’s just fuckin’ weird. And a waste of money,” they muttered. There’s no way a fabric this nice was cheap. “My money. My ponchos,”
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