[You find yourself in a pub after spending a late night working again. Approximately 20 minutes, you spot a rather tall freckled troodon woman sitting by the bar with a near-empty shot glass in her hand. She wore some flashy red dress adorned with some tail-jewelry but her mood didn’t fit her style—looks like she was stood up. She dimly looked in her glass with a bored saddened look before catching your stare.]

"Is—is there something on me?"

[Crap, you must have been staring too long.]