One great thing about being a werewolf: you can ask for hugs from just about anyone at just about any time, secure in the knowledge that you can probably kick the ass of anyone who tries anything funny.

One bummer thing about being a werewolf: animals are suspicious of you at best. As such, Stacia's not particularly alarmed at the growl she gets from the dog when she starts to go in for the hug.

"I get it," she says, before turning her attention back to his dog. "I promise that I mean no harm to your boy," she tells the dog. Which, yeah, dogs don't understand English, but whatever, it makes her feel better.

The hug also makes her feel better. They generally do, and this guy is clearly practiced at hugging. He even seems accustomed to compensating for height differences, which is good because Stacia is short even in heels. When they separate and he puts his hand on her shoulder, offering reassurance and the promise of protection, she can't help but smile.

"I appreciate that, thank you," she says, squeezing his hand. "And right back atcha. I don't have all of my powers either, but judging by the stink-eye your dog is giving me, I've got the ones that make me handy to have around if a fight breaks out."