Dragon in my tree-house - Westley Breeze

This is a flash-fiction piece (less than 250 words) based on an angry/cross dragon.

‘I’ve tried, but he won’t give it back!’ My sister Shelley slumps into the kitchen chair. ‘He’s very angry.’
                ‘I’ll try, with liquorice!’ Filing my coat pockets with Catherine Wheels, I slip on my wellies and trudge down the garden.
                At only 4ft tall, Pete is a funny sort of dragon. He lives in our treehouse, having appeared last year and taken up residence. He’s generally nice, but when he’s angry, Pete scorches things.
                Pete sits on top of the pile of junk in the corner, our neighbour’s ruby necklace swinging from his claw. He is a hoarder, especially of shiny things.
                ‘Pete, we have to give it back!’ I reach out my hand. ‘Mrs Trenton will call the police if we don’t.’
                Pete turns purply-red and growls at my advances.

‘I have liquorice!’
Pete’s eyes blaze in delight. He jumps off the pile and rushes over, shoving his snout into my pocket. His scales morph back to green again as he licks his sharp teeth with a now black tongue. But he doesn’t hand over the necklace.

                Sighing, I unclip the necklace from around my neck. Pete’s eyes bulge; my necklace is extra shiny.
                ‘Swap?’
                Pete reluctantly hands over Mrs Trenton’s necklace, and with a smirk, I walk back to the house. ‘How did you convince him?’ Shelly’s eyes are wide.
                I touch my nose and grin.
                In a locked jewellery box upstairs, sit a dozen £1 costume jewellery necklaces, especially for such occasions. I have Pete sussed!