Hades pumped a little soap onto his hand to massage it into Aza’s dampened head and neck fur.

“You’ve been living as a dragon for too long,” he said, not in an accusatory way. But it was certainly true. “If all you smell is food, then he definitely smells like your lunch.”

He gently rinsed the soap from his head, watching the fur spike and clump together.

“It remains to be seen if we’ll be able to recalibrate your senses, however.”