Ureck's body went stiff as he unwittingly trotted before the trio of thugs, his eyes wide as dinner plates in their hungry gaze. He hadn't counted on the kitchen door being open that night, and now he realized how big of a fool he was for not being more vigilant. With the coyote bringing up the front, her weapon drawn and her jaws dripping in anticipation, Ureck's mind flooded with thoughts, thinking about how he could prevent "fool" from turning into "food".<br/><br/>"S-Say," Ureck began shakily. "If I were you, I wouldn't be too eager to devour me. See these hands?" Ureck noted, showing his ink-stained paws, arms, and shirt. "I work as a scribe, and I've got all this ink all over my hands, my arms, my body. And believe me, it's a devilish substance, full of lead and other things you don't want swirling around in your system."<br/><br/>As he said this in hopes of fobbing them off slightly, Ureck took a few nervous steps back down the way he came. He knew that they'd follow suite, advancing towards him at a similar pace to stoke his fright. Yet his fear was little more than a facade to cover up his true goal: returning to the window he had once been spying through. If he could close the distance even just a little, he'd get his chance to break through the window and back into the bar... or, if their patience wore thin, place the commotion of their snatching him within earshot of the patrons within.<br/><br/>(Bluff check: 1d20(19) + 9 = 28; SCORE! ^^)<br/>(Initiative check: 1d20 (16) + 2 = 18)<br/><br/>((If the initiative works))<br/><br/>Then, in a heartbeat, Ureck broke his slow steps into a full-blown run, rushing for the window a short distance down the alleyway. Closing his eyes, he leapt up and hurled himself shoulder-first into the thin glass.<br/><br/>(Tumble check: 1d20(5) - 2 = 3; ... *sigh* ><)