*The wolf turned to Leone, such a scowl upon his face as to shame his own master. "smurf off, thing. I'm on business." He seized the bottle of vodka and shot glass that had been left behind him by a nervous, human barkeep. This wolf- though his ears looked oddly jackally, and his tail - was fast. He could win a speed-drinking contest, if there were such a thing! After a quaff of the first shotglass, he growled - one might notice his voice held a foreign yet not unknown accent, not dissimilar to Oak's, and he spoke in a rasp - "Not that I haven't been on buisiness for SEVEN STINKIN' YEARS!" This last bit was roared.*
*Oakleaf squinted, as rain began to fall-- something was glinting in the distance? Her pace quickened, but then the pegasus tripped, for several cobblestones were missing in one part of the road. Now quite damp, and scowling nearly as much as the wolf-jackal, she pushed herself up again and headed in the general direction of the tavern, wings relatively warm beneath her cloak.*
*Carrtagh -- For that was the wolf's name -- dropped the shotglass. One might wonder why - for his eyes were still fixed upon Leone. Wait, no. One eye, one terrible eye, had travelled over to Thornwhistle, pupil contracting into one horrifying iris.
He made a sound unlike any other, a warbling, howling, growling roaring noise, and then, ignoring Leone, turned to face the pegasus... the strange noise changed, and turned to laughter. Carrtagh grinned as he laughed... and every single yellow, slobbery fang gleamed.*
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