You watch as the burly wolf orders yet another bottle of Irish stout. Her face is steely, painted with a few scars and a somewhat lonesome look. Her grey and white fur is worn longer than average, and relatively scruffy. As she yawns widely, her black lips pull back over her wolf teeth. Her amber eyes make contact with you in the bar's mirror. She straightens her jacket and tank top, adjusting her leather leggings. She downs her bottle with a belch "Ugh. Hey, wassup? Wanna see my motorcycle?"