The red-scaled half-dragon chanced a peek out into the cavern, the wet sounds of slushed ice shifting against itself filling her earfrills. Impulsive but not entirely stupid, she eyed the massive but limp body of the white dragon from the safety of the tunnel. The fact that his wings seemed to sag loosely was promising. Somehow she thought that if he was dead he should have shattered along with the rest of the ice, or at least remained stiff as carrion while it dissolved around him. Promising though it might be, she couldn't help but think of the huge pale creature like a cold fish tossed onto a riverbank.

And it seemed as though he intended to milk that analogy for all it was worth. A flutter of excitement in Drache's breast when the white drake's leg gave a noticeable twitch suddenly bubbled over into a barely-suppressed snicker as he began to flop about like...well...like a fish!

Staying well back, Drache watched the creature come back to himself. Perhaps if he had been smaller she might have tried to comfort him somewhat, but one look at those lashing talons and sweeping wings earned a distinct Nope! in the back of her mind. Moving only to brush ice off herself when he flung it over her, or dodge a particular lage missile swept in her direction, Drache was content to wait him out.

Her snout twisted with fascinated disgust when the beast retched all over the floor, but she was glad to notice his fire. Her own immunity to that element offered her at least a small measure of safety against this trembling stranger. When he finally collapsed back to the floor, Drache judged it safe (enough) to make her presence known. 

Dragging the huge sack of gold towards her, she bent down and grabbed a fist full of coins, lobbed one at the dragon's snout. When she spoke she chose the Draconic tongue that, as far as she knew, all dragons could speak, her voice distinctly not human but also far too small to mistake her for a creature the same size as he was. 

[color=ed1c24]"Hey, whitey. You hungry? I'd wager you should be after living life as an icicle."[/color] There was a smug amusement in her tone. She just hoped his gold-gizzard would kick in before his stomach. She had no intention of being his first meal in an indeterminate amount of years.