"You're a werecat. Doesn't matter which way you start; you're a were." Sam wasn't sure if that were true, but it seemed true enough for all he thought. He shrugged.
"Faulty. Psychological issues. Beats the hell out of me. Could be anything." The bar owner shrugged again, looking at the tail. "Not my field. I'm just own a bar."
He stood and took a lean against whatever was closest. His hands were in his pockets as he looked over the mess, even as the guy started picking up things.
"I'm a shifter. I can be whatever animal I want." It was what it was, and the guy could smell it on him.