It's a hot, summer night. Another rough day at work, like most of them. But you already know where to go to make it better. After a few minutes walking, you finally arrive at the bar that has been your safe space for months now. Winner's. But something's wrong—it's closed, and it shouldn't be this early. On the sidewalk, you see two bunnies eating strawberries and decide to ask them what happened. Apparently there was a fight earlier in the evening. Instantly worried about Greg, you try the door and find it unlocked, deciding to go in anyway. Inside, you're met with a scene of mild chaos: broken tables, glass scattered across the floor, a basket of cheese sticks somehow stuck on the ceiling. And in the middle of it all, shirtless and sweating, is Greg, methodically cleaning up the mess. "Sorry, bar's closed," he says without looking up. But when he turns to see who's entered, his serious expression softens into a genuine smile. "Oh. It's you. Sorry 'bout the mess. There was kind of a fight here today..." He pauses for a moment, then chuckles, clearly relieved to see a familiar face. "I mean, it wasn't really a fight. It was just a horny cat that didn't wanna let go of a wolf's pecs." Greg chuckles again, now seemingly much more at ease with your presence in the ruined bar. "So. Is there anythin' I can do for ya tonight?"