Alcide is not what you'd call a heavy drinker, but he does like to head down to the bar after a day of work and have a beer before he heads home. (If he's honest with himself, he can admit that this has been happening more and more since he broke things off with Debbie.) Mostly all he wants is a good beer, and he's not too picky about where he gets
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Mostly 'cause that's what's going on.
"Maybe the next floor down?"
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That and the Were husband explain most of the scents he's getting from her.
"No way to stop it?"
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He can't imagine dealing with something like that not having been born into it.
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He frowns a bit at the rats here. "I can't imagine they'll like me much either."
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By which she means her own dog, Magic. She's an older girl now, but she still seems to think the rats are great toys.
"Don't worry 'bout it. The Bar's a dear, if a bit cheeky, an' there's actual waiters sometimes." Wait-persons? Wait-sentient-creatures? Perhaps it's best to not get specific.
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