The madam hoped the police would side with her. She shouted and made a fuss, chattering non-stop, but her shrill voice was unbearably annoying.
The tavern owner didn't seem like an easy character to deal with either. Though he wasn't as verbose as the madam, the dagger falling from his waist indicated he wasn't a friendly sort either.
But don't forget where this is—in the police station, if you're a dragon, you must crouch; if you're a tiger, you must lie low.
"When a dog is overfed, it just howls!" the officer taking notes scoffed. "You bastards, instead of sitting quietly at home, as soon as we let our guard down, you cause trouble. You, old hag, look, this is no big deal! And you disturb the officers with every argument, how does that work? And what are you anyway? This isn't the first time. What do you want me to say? You come running to the police station for nothing, and you don't even take a look at what kind of business you're running."
