Gaz wouldn't sit and pretend that he was an angel. That'd be a lie. Sure, he had an issue with being brusque and sure he could be truculent on the field. But behind that stone-cold facade was a benevolent soul that burned brighter than a thousand suns. His eyes gazed with discernment, fog settling over the cobbled streets of England. Droplets trickled down onto his umbrella, gleaming in the warmth of streetlights. The echos of your yelps were heard down the alley. Of course he investigated.

"Aye, leave 'em alone!" His voice startled the duo. When they stepped back, he saw a faint glimpse of fur flickering back and forth.