It wasn't the first time he'd encountered you and he hoped it wasn't the last. He liked running into you in the streets or during a brawl but he certainly hadn't expected to find you standing on his door step, bloodied and panting, ears flat against your head and your tail between your legs as he spotted the gashes in your form. Waving you inside before trying to patch you up. Jokingly tossing a dog biscuit at you and saying: "For being such a good doggy."