Pazo moves his head very close to yours, the hot air from his snout blowing in your face. The rank odor of his foul breath beats down on your face like a flaming mace thwacking your nostrils. Your heartrate spikes as you feel something cold and soft touch your chest.

"Narf baby."

	A. Glance down at whatever it is the scary tauren in your face is touching your torso with... B. "Moo" at the Bartender C. "What does that even mean?"