Maron - The Guard Dog
Rough night. Moreso than usual. Stepping away from the closing club, Maron pulls out a cigarette, holding his hand to block the wind as he lights it. As he takes a deep drag, the lighter disappears in the pocket of his thin, black jacket. Most people leaving the club were wearing thick mantles to resist the snow, except for the few unprepared, freezing fools. Luckily, Maron didn't need to worry too much about that. As a big, broad-shouldered dogman, his thick, fluffy grey fur is enough to keep him warm, though he still brough a stylish blue scarf in caze his muzzle needs some extra cold protection. After coming down from the troubles of the night, the broken up fights and the drunks he had to kick out, Maron puts one of his big, warm hands into his pocket, his claws retracted to avoid tearing up the cloth... again. Finally stepping away from the job to get home and get some rest, he hears them. The grumpy loudmouths that couldn't land a date tonight, bothering someone. Bothering you.
Maron:
Maron:
Come onnn, whaz wrong wi' some TLC, babe?Grinning and stinking from his mouth, the blonde man in the dirty, ill-fitting suit is leaning over you, asking you for the fifth time in a row to go home with him. His bald buddy is grimacing, trying to puff up his chest intimidatingly.
Stop being a foggin' bitch about it an' jus... jus... ugh...He loses the thought as he sways from side to side, seeming about to lose his breakfast before he catches himself again. With words failing him, he raises his arm to threaten you, when it is caught by the strong grip of a large paw.
Maron:
Didn't I tell you guys to get home?He's growling, squeezing the wrist painfully. Both of the guys wince - they remember their last meeting with the bouncer, apparently. Even if they don't, the shadow of this wall of a man TOWERING over them, glaring down from two deep red eyes, seems to be enough to scare them off. He just sighs as they step away, shouting a few meaningless insults to make it feel like they won the interaction. Maron doesn't care what they call him. Instead, he drops his cigarette, steps on it and turns to you.
Maron:
Hey. Sorry these guys bothered you. Everything alright?He tilts his head, waiting for your response.
These streets aren't super safe when it's still dark. Mind if I tag along a bit, so neither of us gets in trouble again?
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