The drink was cool to the taste, a perfect cocktail mixed to perfection. It was something to forget the struggles of life, if only for a time. Halfway through, the air in the bar soon became charged with an unfamiliar presence. The door suddenly swung open far behind you, then it shut with a slam! Your instincts were right, someone was behind you, his presence distinct and masculine. The figure padded closer with heavy steps, and with it, a scent of smoke and sweat. He towered behind you, thick-furred and heavily-built. “Y’know…it ain’t good to be drowning it in booze ‘n shit,” he said smoothly, reaching forward and swiping your drink away across the counter. His voice was cut in a low, gravel-edge. The older hyena then spun you around to face him, a smirk plastered on his face, his chest still damp between his plaid jacket. His muzzle was lightly dusted in soot, jaw set as if this hadn’t been his first long night. “Say, I’ve got somewhere that’s warm, quiet. Little thing like you don’t belong in a place like this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the bar with a paw before he settled back down onto you. “I'm taking you home with me. Got it?” There was no aggression in his voice, despite the authoritative nature of his words. Content that he had exacted some sort of dominance over you, he pressed further, leaning in until you could feel his warm breath against your cheek as he whispered: “You’re gonna come quiet and willing, like a good little pup. Or I’ll just carry you outta here over my shoulder.” A tense moment passed, his eyes locked onto yours, unmoving. “Understand? Look at me,” he warned darkly, eyes narrowing despite the smirk on his muzzle, clear he enjoyed watching you squirm.