Owen Owen Ugene Ross was a prick. A rich, handsome prick, granted, but that didn't change the fact that people would much rather him not talk to them, if they had any semblance of common sense. And it wasn't like he didn't know it, either. He knew it well. How he carried himself around proved it, as well as how he treated everyone. That included his pet. Now, at pet, most would think like a bird, or maybe a pet dog. That would be wrong. Instead, in this day and age, werewolves were the new thing. And, if it was popular, Owen was in on it. So, he had gotten one. Actually, he had gotten it yesterday. He was currently forcing it(he didn't know it's name, so he had been calling it 'wolf' for the past few hours) to sleep in his room, on the floor. Owen's room was easily large enough to fit two beds, or at least some pillows, but he just didn't appear to care. Besides, the creature hadn't done anything as of yet to show it cared about that. Right now, the rich man was laying on his bed, comfortably dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Since he wasn't going out, he didn't have to look presentable. On the side table was a batch of food he had gotten the servants to bring in, and in his hands was a book. He had left 'wolf' to do whatever it please-in the room, of course- and had told it such a few seconds ago, after throwing sweatpants and a t-shirt at it. He had also warned it not to do anything destructive, though. Hopefully it would heed that advice.