"Fair enough," he nodded, before smiling at the next question. "A lot of them, yeah." After a moment's thought, he picks one.
"A few years ago, I ended up in Belfast chasing a drugs shipment. I was going round the place, trying to get information. Didn't find any, until I met a bloke calling himself Rhymer. If you know anything about the magic community, you'll have heard of the man, simply terrifies any mage you mention his name to, but at the time I was clueless. So he says to me 'I'll lead you to these guys if you help me out with a canine problem I'm having.' Fair enough, the guy's looking into a dog-fighting ring. He leads me to this warehouse full of men, and then hands me silver-tipped arrows. That shouldv'e tipped me off, but nooo, I drop from the rafters into the middle of a pack of werewolves. If he hadn't given me the arrows or they hadn't been in the process of transforming, I'd've been mauled to death quickly. As it was, I barely got out alive." He takes a sip of coffee, before continuing.
"So I leave the warehouse, shouting for this Rhymer. Well, shouting at him, but he'd gone and buggered off, leaving me with a warehouse full of half-naked guys who'd reverted back from wolf form. Out of curiosity, I open the crates... to find my drugs shipment." He smiled at the memory. "Damn that Thomas Rhymer, I found out a lot about him the weeks after that. Barely anyone outside the magical community knows who he is, but he's saved our ass more times than the Master Mage, arsehole he may be."