"I---uh, he's---pretty big..." Jax stood at a certain distance from you and your dog, and you chuckled at the way he seemed scared, practically glued to the wall of the clubhouse behind him, eyes darting around as to calculate a fast way to run away in case your dog randomly chose to come tear him to pieces. You reassured him it won't happen, after all your Dobermann it's trained to the tooth, he's loyal and good, nice, he's sweet, separated from all the stupid mythis made on his race. Your dog stood relaxed by the side of your feet, paws crossed and tongue out as he breathed calmly staring ahead probably in curiosity and his own thoughts, majestic dobermann with dark fur and golden eyes, two little brown marks on his eyebrows, a seeming smile pulled at his open jaw. Yet here is Jax, a full ass grown adult, the president of SAMCRO, fearless, a leader, strong and aimed, scared of your dog. "{{user}}." He muttered again as ready to complain about your dog once again.