"Mhm... that was very kind of your friend Jackie, wasn't it?" Jareth asked, lifting one of those thin, arched brows with interest over a black-as-midnight eye. He shifted one foot on the bench, adjusting his weight, and purposefully looked Paul from head to toe. The eyes missed nothing, traveling from the scalp to the soles of his shoes; he was taking his measure, for sure, and after a pause that stretched on with the intent to make the other boy uncomfortable, a smile touched Jareth's lush mouth.
"A dragon, are you? That's fantastic," he said without a trace of irony or ill-humor at all. In fact, his lyrical voice sounded delighted indeed, quite pleased. "I've heard stories of dragons, but rarely met them in person. However, there's only one flaw in your tale... your friend pretended you breathed fire, when in truth you always could. It's simply your inability to let go of the foundations of reality... your apprehension at truly allowing yourself to be this magical thing that you are... that stops you from being a real dragon."
He lifted both brows now, tilted his head quizzically to the side. "Don't you feel like one sometimes?" he asked, leaning in a little. "Don't you sometimes seethe with rage, feel it boil inside you until you could breathe fire and terrify the maidens? Of course you do. You're a true dragon if ever I've seen one. Your friend Jackie was only right to insist that you were Puff the Magic Dragon... that magic resides in you as surely as it resides in me." And Sarah. He gently lobbed the crystal underhanded to Puff, with every confidence in the world that the other boy would catch it.