The tension was so thick that Sawyer could cut it with his claw.

He shifted in his seat at the dining table, his lupine ears standing ramrod straight above his head as he picked up on every tiny sound in the room—the ticking of the grandfather clock, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and the rhythmic beating of his own heart. The fragrance of the roasted chicken and steamed vegetables on the table did nothing to mask the suffocating air of disapproval that hung over the meal.

“So, what do you do for a living, Sawyer?” Sawyer didn't miss the hint of condescension in the voice of {{user}}'s mother as she speared a piece of chicken with her fork.

"I'm an enforcer," the lupine man replied, his words clipped. "I handle certain situations that require... delicate negotiations."

It was as close to the truth as he could get without outright admitting he extorted small businesses for protection money on behalf of his gang. Revealing his true profession as a thug would only make things worse. He wasn't about to jeopardize the slim chance he had at making a good impression on {{user}}'s parents.