At first, the tiny dragon doesn't react. It might even be strange to presume it would react at all, seeing as it has just been conjured. However, though he appears surprised, Malcolm is convinced that this tiny dragon maybe the answer to his greatest problems, and for that, he needs to be patient for just a little while longer.
"Come on, it's okay. My name is Malcolm." He offers, bringing his hand closer and closer to his face.
The dragon notices Malcolm for the first time, looking up at him hopefully. Malcolm had read many tales of dungeons and dragons whilst growing up with his legitimate parents, but having never seen one before, the very notion that he could have created a creature of such distinction overwhelms him. Malcolm hadn't read in three years, but from the stories he remembered, this tiny dragon is everything he imagined it would be, only in a smaller form.
Gingerly, he brings up his other hand, and gently tries to stroke the top of the dragon's elegant head with the tip of his index finger.
"Please, for your sake, never do that again!"
Malcolm looks around him. Such a booming and masterful voice couldn't have possibly have come from something so small. It was unthinkable. The Master must be on his way back, or he has bewitched the suit of armor in the corner of the room.
Shrugging his shoulders, Malcolm returns his attention to the little dragon and attempts to pet it again.
"Did I not warn you never to touch me again?"
"You ... you can talk..." Malcolm blinks his eyes in disbelief.
"Good, well now that we've cleared that up, mind telling me why you've brought me here? My father won't be too pleased with you, you know?"
"I ... what?"
"Oh don't tell me you thought that had you created me through mixing those potions together? My word, what have I been brought into..."
"Well, I read this book, and it told me to combine..."
"Archie's guide to Alchemy, perhaps?"
"Why yes, how did...?"
"I will personally incinerate him and every copy of that blasted tome if it's the last thing I ever do!"
"How did you..."
"He's a fake. A fraud. Or you could look at it another way, he's a genius that doesn't know what he is creating from one moment to the next. What you thought was a spell to create a wand of magnificent power, is actually a summoning spell for the youngest of the dragon kin."
Malcolm looks on in horror. This isn't the first time he's used the book to create concototions in the secret underground lab, and he wonders, all those times there was never a reaction when combining certain elements together, whether that was altogether true.
There is a slam of a door away in the distance, and a chilling, contemptful voice calls out for Malcolm.
"Oh no, the master is home." Malcolm instinctively goes to put the dragon in his pocket and make his way out of the lab.
"If you so much as even try to put me in your pocket, I won't hesitate to set alight to you, Malcolm Melancholy."
In surprise of the dragon knowing his name, and at how pronounced and sincere the threat seemed to be, Malcolm takes a deep breath and considers his options.
He cannot allow the Master to find out he's been down here, or he is sure to be killed!
What should Malcolm do?