Leftovers were often in enough abundance at night from The Bronze Calf that the unconventional Ogre, Throx, did not need to seek out and spend a small fortune on his dinner. Both massive arms were each hefted their own burden; one all the containers of food, and the other his neatly folded suit.

One had to be practical when they were nearly the size of a large cottage, and getting such a suit made was no doubt it's own timely undertaking, not to mention costly.

Money and a great need for it seemed to go hand in hand with being such a large member of a community, didn't it'

The commotion from the restaurant was done, Throx was always the last one to leave, making sure no rogue got a not-so-smart-idea and tried anything at closing time. Do around the back of the building the Ogre had gone, and disappeared behind a massive wall to descend a hidden staircase. Down he crept until another custom job was reached, a door wide enough to allow a small caravan through.

In he went, and the sounds of several, if not half a dozen varying sized felines mewled excitedly at Throx's lumbering entrance. On flicked a fairly modern light apparatus upon the wall. Light fizzle to life, low and homely, and there upon the floor swarming around the Ogre's ridiculously devilish looking feet, were a litter of kittens and one big mama.

"Yes, yes I'm home little ones. I'm home." Mountaintops shifted quieter than the Ogre's amused chuckle, but the kittens and their mother didn't seem to mind. A pair even dared to crawl up his legs, claws feeling like no more than a gnat's breeze upon his weathered skin as they all cried out their joy.

The suit was hung, the food was laid out then on a thick butcher block table. Bowls were set out rather carefully between the Ogre's wicked talons, and fresh shreds of chicken with a cream based soup were poured out in half, while the others were filled from a bag of what looked like kitten'n'cat chow from the corner of his beastly-large kitten.

Crawling kittens abandoned their game of king of the hill, and leapt with the rest of their family for the food. In passing, Throx offered the large, purring mother cat a loving stroke with one of his massive hands....

And was that a soft rumbling-type purr? Quite possibly. The oddest noises came from this creature, and non of them quiet; even this gentle gesture sounded like a rally of carriages was rambling across his floor. Throx left for what seemed to be the bedroom portion of his basement flat apartment.

No keys were needed to lock his doors behind him; who would be that stupid to bother him, really'

Breeches abandoned, vest tossed aside, Throx managed to slobber down a rack of lamb and leftover vegetables on his travels from the kitchen to his bed. His belch resembled a bear's roar in a cave, for there was no need to censor his more unsavory habits here. There, like a wall of bricks, the Ogre slumped down into the sprawl of his furred bed, grunting out loud to himself sleepily.

"No more damned auction jobs, beh....Females are far too skinny around here." A grumble and set of throaty boar-snorts later, the massive Throx Skullcrusher was sawing logs.