Whether he realized it or not, Dragon had already made an impact on Nidhogg. It was easy to teach a simple creature new patterns--and reluctant listening, followed by praise and reward, was stronger than simply yelling at him with words he'd immediately forget.

Plus, setting oneself on fire and then rotting away had its own horrific effects, and had jarred Nidhogg out of literally any desire to bite the alligator any time soon. Part of him briefly wondered if he could just leave, slip away, but... he had no real reason to, for once. Vargas would be furious with him, and anyway, Dragon had so far taken him hunting and let him bite him a lot.

And--bonus points--called him by his name. A very rare, very brief flicker of loyalty rose and died like a candleflame--but it was a seed planted, at least.

On the other hand, the mention of 'family' did nothing for him.

"I'll wait," he answered, irritable, but he did mean it.

Aquarian's name sparked no recognition, though undoubtedly he'd meet the master with awe and interest (and possibly try and bite him, should the opportunity arise). Hunting, sparring--maybe the promises of rewards, for these, would temper Nidhogg's impulsive savagery just a little with a sense of pattern and responsibility.

Dragon's eyes had closed, a rumble escaping him, and bubbles threaded to the surface as he submerged to sleep. He did not see, then, Nidhogg reluctantly plod away, trudging back to nose around in the mud, until he picked a piece of jasper from the water and carried it away.

The serpent curled beneath a cluster of tree roots, hidden by long reeds, and kept baleful watch on the fog--the gemstone shard held, periodically turned, in his claws.