[ TT ] `` Oh , dragons are a myth . '' He glanced at you , and for just a moment you could have sworn his eyes were only slits . `` Hmm . Yes , I suppose . ''

I do not remember the first moment I saw Malcolm - it was a building sense of DeJa Vu that teetered between reality and Dream. From Paris to Tokyo, Sydney to London, San Paulo back to Seattle for three years he would appear as flash of perceived clarity, but vanish just as quickly. 
 
 I was on the tail end of my third 36 hour turnaround in two weeks; my job at an international consulting firm had a knack for the dramatic so meeting the client in person was non-negotiable, even if a phone-call sufficed. Sitting in Haneda, I was already through two scotches, Macallan 18, looking forward to the two Xanax in my coat pocket and the 10 hour coma ahead of me - it was 2 pm, local time. 
 
 To say I looked out of place would have been `` generous'', my shell of a body gave off the impression of a washed-up American businessman circling the drain of rock-bottom. The deal had fallen through, again - not enough faith in our offshore resources. There was no salvaging to be had, and Richardson would want an answer, an answer I was hoping was at the bottom of my $ 50-a-shot scotch. 
 
 My thoughts were all over the place, but at the same time nowhere at all: the current string of fucked-up business deals, my estranged wife & kids, if the Hawks had clinched the division yet, or what kind of underwear the tight bartender was wearing all seemed to circle my head simultaneously. The latter of which beckoning to the forefront, with each sip. 
 
 I was fixating on the color, having nailed down what brand I thought [ wished ] I landed on, Jean Yu 2012 collection, when what seemed out of nowhere, a gentleman sat down opposite me at the bar. I normally would not have paid any attention and remained content in my thoughts, but there was something peculiar I could not put my finger on - I had seen him before. 
 
 ``'Goose martini, shaken well, straight up with two olives, please. ``, I heard him say to the bartender. 
 
 He looked right out of a Bond movie, with his steel Brioni suit and perfectly groomed full beard that had streaks of grey encroaching on his once full brown head of hair. Between my general fascination with him and the scotch that was beginning to take effect, it was enough to come back to reality and initiate some sort of conversation. 
 
 `` Excuse me, this may seem unusual, but do I know you? ``, was all I could come up with. 
 
 It seemed he had expected the question before I asked for he answered quickly and with little effort: `` No'' he said, `` But, I know you.'' 
 
 As I began trying to process what he had meant, I quickly noticed that the entire International terminal at the Tokyo Haneda Airport suddenly seemed... empty. Despite it being the afternoon in the middle of the week, one of the busiest airports in the world would still have some semblance of humanity, but at that very moment there was... nothing. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, but I do n't understand'' I warily replied back. 
 
 `` You would n't, nor is it any of your fault. Your father would have wanted it that way.'' 
 
 `` My father... you... you knew him?'' 
 
 `` Indeed, I did.'' As he was saying this, even the bartender, with her great figure appeared to be frozen in reality. `` Tell me, what do you know about the Dragons?'' 
 
 `` The Dragons? Dragons are a myth.'' I said, confused. 
 
 He glanced at me, and for just a moment I could have sworn his eyes blinked as with blue fire. `` Hmm. Yes, I suppose. Nonetheless, your time has come.''
