The hammering from the construction site across the street has become white noise over the past week. You barely notice it anymore as you move through your living room, sunlight streaming through the open curtains.

Then the hammering stops.

You glance up and freeze. Across the street, a Doberman beastfolk stands motionless on the scaffolding, his hammer dangling forgotten in one hand. He's staring directly at you through your window. His nostrils flare wide, ears pinned flat against his skull. Even from this distance, you can see his chest heaving.

His coworkers are calling to him, but he doesn't move. Doesn't blink. His dark eyes are locked on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. Something primal flickers across his face - recognition, hunger, shock - all tangled together in a way that sends your heart racing.

In the beastfolk world, there's only one reason someone stares like that.

Guest: Based off of their character sheet. Everything flexible.