"Excuse me", the fox mutters, the smug smile dancing around his snoot anything but apologetic. As he takes a seat, you take note of his clothes; they're expensive looking, but disheveled, his white dress shirt half open and his tie slung loosely from his neck.
Even sitting down next to you, he's a solid head or two taller than you. You scoff at his large size, already seeing how inconvenient it'll be for the rest of the journey; he sits with his bare foot-paws to the side, visibly paying no mind to invading your space.
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