Looking at the approaching Little Candle Dragon, the Rabbit Head Secret sitting at the reception desk felt like the sky was falling—not really, but yesterday he had barely managed to dodge the bullet of a bad performance while working for a God by pretending to take a day off.
How come today he actually bumped into the God himself? If he'd known, he would have stayed at work yesterday. At worst, he'd be hit by good fortune—after all, the Inner Guard's car is quite sturdy, and yesterday when his little Tiger officer got hit, the car rolled over 7200 degrees, resulting in only two broken legs.
"Du, Mr. Durin, what brings you here today?"
"I should be asking you why you're not at the Inner Guard today but sitting at the desk of the White-headed Turtle." Little Candle Dragon laughed as he flicked him a cigarette from his packet.
