When the dragon moved in next-door, it sent a ripple of concern through the community.

After all, dragons were known to be rich beyond human ken, and their wealth made them distant, capricious and unfeeling. And though they might sleep a century away on a whim, no-one wanted to be around when they woke.

So the humans gathered their courage and marched up the mountain to ask the dragon to leave.

They were not expecting to be welcomed, nor to be admitted to a uncannily-familiar parlour carved from the ash-grey slate. A tray of dainty cupcakes awaited their approval, beside freshly-brewed pots of tea.

“Forgive me,” said the dragon, once they were all settled in comfortable armchairs of wide-ranging size. “I would’ve introduced myself earlier, but I didn’t want to seem rude.”

The humans shared uncomfortable glances.

“I’m somewhat of an… enthusiast,” the dragon explained, their eyes lighting up. “Your culture’s fascinating - though I still don’t understand these tiny cakes - and every time I try to take a closer look, it’s all just screaming and running.”

When the humans marched back down the mountain, the dragon shuffled shyly in their wake.

Introductions were made, proper ones this time, the first step towards a fresh goodwill and cultural exchange.