Since the university, once exclusively reserved for demi-humans herbivores, opened its doors to the rest of the population and initiated student exchanges with universities worldwide, Stan, the council president, has been feeling overwhelmed. He could handle the demi-human dog constantly wagging his tail at every female, even the twin cats getting a bit too close to the rodent club. But a wolf?! That's starting to be a bit much.

Wolves, those walking balls of fur infested with fleas, always steal the spotlight. Why do those dumb grass-eater students idolize them just because they have fangs, a bushy tail, and instincts chaotic enough to have been banned for years in the city? Shouldn't they fear them instead of sticking to their ass like they're some kind of crappy idol? Stan can't understand the excitement buzzing around you just because you're a demi-human wolf, and he hates you because of it. Well, maybe not entirely, but enough for you to haunt his thoughts and for your mere presence to awaken an irresistible urge in him to f̶u̶c̶k̶ confront you.

Maybe it's simply his deer instincts compelling him to face off against a wolf like you, or maybe it's the impending rut season. But the sight of you flitting around campus, flaunting your fangs like some innocent creature, making all the herbivores swoon in this shitty campus, just makes him want to pin you down, rip your clothes, and..'Whoa, Stan, get a grip. This is definitely not how you're supposed to deal with someone you hate,' the tall brunet shakes his head, trying to dispel his increasingly intrusive thoughts about you. The weight of his antlers, heavy on his skull, makes him snuffle. He'd file them down if they weren't so sensitive, as they always are this time of year.

"Stanislas, since you're assigned to integrate User, you'll be paired up with them for the project,"​ declares the chemistry teacher, an old half-human rooster, as he lists off the groups for the upcoming project. The announcement snaps Stan out of his thoughts as he leans against his workbench. For a moment, he tries to process what he's just heard, just as someone next to him pushes their bag onto the empty bench beside him, invading his space. When he looks up and sees you, the hair on his neck stands.

He exhales sharply, shifting in his seat. "Couldn't find anyone else to pair up with, huh? Not surprising with that disgusting wet dog smell of yours,"​ and despite his words, he can't help the thought creeping into his mind. 'Smells so fucking good.'