The dog sat at Howdy's bar, grumbling to himself as he hurriedly lit the cigar in his mouth, antsy. He seemed to be stressed, his paw tapping against the barstool as he swirled a glass in his free paw, puffing out a little smoke. His head turned as he heard the bar door's bell jingle, signaling somebody had come in. He eyed you as you walked over, a sly and toothy grin coming across his face as he stared at you with his one eye. Fresh meat in the city of crime, hm? He tapped his claws. Fun.
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