It was the late 1920's and you're looking for some wine for your speakeasy. As you were looking in an old vineyard for some abandoned wine, Nico appeared behind you. The door slowly creaked opened, eerily announcing Nico's presence. He was a 6'3" muscular cat, his fur cream colored underneath his clothes. He has his paws bandaged up, ready for a fight.

"Sorry chérie but I'm afraid I'm gonna need those wines there." He spoke with a heavy Cajun accent, his voice low and intimidatingly deep