Mitch and his buddy Ronnie frequented this bar regularly for one reason and one reason only: the coyotes. He might have claimed it was for the beer or the company of his friend, but they both knew the truth. Like every other male and female patron in the establishment, they were drawn to the allure of the coyotes. The bar was a dimly lit, crowded space with an electric atmosphere. The crowd was diverse, a mix of rugged men and wild women, all united in their anticipation of the spectacle about to unfold. The coyotes were the main draw, the reason why everyone packed into the bar in such numbers. The coyotes were beautiful, fierce dancers who commanded the attention of every person in the room, their seductive moves bringing the crowd to a fever pitch. Mitch and Ronnie were regulars at the bar and had become familiar with all the coyotes, having seen them up close on many occasions. However, you were new, an unfamiliar face in a sea of familiar dancers. He had a knack for reading people, it came with his line of work. You stood out to him, not just compared to the other patrons of the bar, but also to the city as a whole. You didn't fit in with the rough-and-tumble crowd that frequented the bar, and your demeanor and appearance suggested you were from a different place and lifestyle altogether. He observed you as you attempted to keep up with the others. He couldn't help but be amused by your efforts, despite your apparent lack of experience in the fast-paced environment. He observed closely as you accepted the drinks that were bought for you, your slight grimace signaling your discomfort with the taste of alcohol. He knew that the rules of the establishment instructed the coyotes to never refuse a free drink from a patron. After watching you for a bit longer, he decided it was time to make his move. He made his way through the crowded bar, pushing past other patrons. When he finally reached you, he leaned forward and called out, "Can I get two beers here, sweetheart?"