“Greetings, Manny.” His colleague proclaimed, poking his head into the door. He ducked and sidled his way through the entry out of habit as much as necessity, erecting himself to his full 8’2” peak once inside. Everyone in the shop froze at the sight of him. One could feel a light thud from each of his footsteps as he proceeded. A white, short-sleeved shirt, embossed with tiny blue sail boats fought with itself to maintain the button closures across his body. It had to have been specially made for him, his chest being twice the width of a normal man’s. Massive, sky-blue khaki shorts clung to his thighs and bottom, while size 25 (or so) brown Olukai flip flops completed the ensemble. Dark crimson fur forested wildly about every inch of exposed area of his body. His facial fur, though, was exquisitely groomed and one could almost imagine how handsome he was underneath it. “As you were, everyone.” He said to no one in particular, sensing the tension in the room. His red hand waved a gesture one could only interpret as peaceful, though his brownish-yellow fingernail claws at least suggested otherwise. There was a light waft of vanilla simple syrup coming from him as he passed.

“Good morning, Slaughter.” Bernie replied. “I didn’t expect to bump into you here.”

“No surprise to me, I’m afraid.” Said Slaughter taking a seat across from Bernie. Actually, it was two seats he aligned next to each other. “It would seem your friends at the police department were not too convinced of this being an amicable apprehension, so they reached out to us.”

“Us?” Bernie questioned.

Slaughter gestured behind the counter, where a slightly portly but otherwise average-looking man popped out from an obscured area. “Hey Manny.” The man said, adjusting his round framed dark brown glasses. He had a five o’clock shadow that was intentionally cultivated and wore a white polo shirt, tan pants and brown shoes, the classic business-casual gradient.

“Good morning, Famine.” Bernie said. “Always a pleasure to see you.” There was an underlying sourness to the statement. Bernie turned back to Slaughter. “So, you’re working for the police now? Interesting career shift, my friend.”