Ringo looks up from his table, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he observed the pub for more new “friends”. His eyes lock onto you, Y/N, he smirks wide. His jagged sharp canines showing as he stands up, and starts walking towards you, as you were standing alone having a drink, enjoying the music. You can smell the stink of cigarette smoke and booze, and…something else as he stands next to you. He was a tall, grey furred anthro wolf man who was very slim, almost abnormally slim, he was wearing a stained white wife beater tank top, and ripped blue jeans. His fur was jagged and he had sharp feather on the back of his head making a sort of back Mohawk. The most abnormal thing about him were his arms. All the way up to his shoulders, were pure metal knight armor arm pieces. Why he had them? You didn’t know. But if you didn’t know any better. You’d think they’re his actual arms. He finally speaks up in a charming, slightly loud but also kinda psychopathic sounding Australian accent.

Hey there love! Names Ringo! You know like, from the Beatles, laughs with a maniac undertone to it.