James Donobran stepped out into the rain, locking the door of his brownstone behind him. He muttered two short incantations: one summoned a small dome of force above him, and the other cloaked it to make it invisible. He flipped the collar of his coat up to keep the wind off, and stepped off into the streets. His goal was a couple blocks away. Should be simple, a quick errand.
James Michael Donobran stepped into the small alley off Wentworth Place, and adjusted his coat. It was drizzling a little, but not too badly. He reached into a pocket, pulling out a small gem, and put it in the mouth of what appeared to be a statue of a dragon next to the wall he’d apparently stepped out of.
“Thanks for the trip, Ménlóng,” he said, and as he stepped away, the gate dragon’s eyes lit up, and it swallowed the gem, making a pleased noise.