As the previous pack had since rotated out, the lycans occupying the Tack and Tap were different. The most obvious concentration were four, one woman and three men, sitting around a table, chatting and laughing. As soon as the one closest to Meesei picked up her scent and turned his head, the rest quickly found her as well.

The one closest, the older looking Imperial with scraggly black hair - likely the one in charge - placed a hand on the table surface and pushed himself up to a standing position. He did not have hostility on his face, but he fully intended to confront Meesei before she fully closed the distance. About a metre of space was between them before the ring caught his eye and he halted in his step. "What is the likes of you...where did..." he became increasingly unsure as the nature of the ring came back to him. After a moment looking under Meesei's hood, he eventually came to a state of recognition and widened his eyes. "I remember you," he pointed to Meesei without lifting his arm very far, "You're the..." he interrupted himself and leaned in to speak more quietly, "you're the champion, aren't you. I remember seeing you back home." He broke into a toothy smile and extended his hand, "Well, welcome to the city, my name's Finley. What's your business here?" He peered over her shoulder, searching, "And where're the rest of you?"

Upon the positive reception, Meesei felt the eyes of the rest of the lycans scattered about wander away from her as they relaxed their guard.