Capital, Old City, Bridge Street, Happiness Apartments, rooftop terrace.
"Moo moo moo! (Hiss! This stuff is impressive! Smoking it is really something else!)"
"Of course it is!"
Watching the old yellow bull's eyes light up after taking a puff of "Gotth" cigarettes, the black goat person, standing on two legs, smiled proudly. With its hoof, it held a rolled paper to its mouth, lit it with a flick of a lighter's wheel, and hummed with a smirk:
"Don't let the cheap leaves and bits fool you. This stuff is top-notch, made from the scraps of the best tobacco, no artificial flavoring or harsh leaves. It might be strong for humans, but for us, it's just right... Here, take it, it's yours!"
After handing over the remaining half-pack of "Gotth," the black goat moved its hind legs to the edge of the terrace, raised its hooves against the rusty railing, and looked down at the busy Bridge Street below, nostalgically saying:
