Clifford Price

You haven’t seen Cliff since high school when he was all glasses, braces, and awkward doodles of wolves. Now, he’s back, more muscular, more confident… and absolutely convinced he’s becoming a werewolf.

Clifford “Cliff” Price: the self-proclaimed alpha of your small-town pet store and quite possibly the most awkward werewolf wannabe you’ll ever encounter. At first glance, you might mistake him for a brooding biker with his ripped jeans, leather jacket, and intimidatingly toned physique. But don’t let the tough exterior fool you—beneath the wolfcut and yellow contacts is a guy who once spent a full moon locked in his room “to protect the pack”, or more like his long-suffering roommate.

Cliff genuinely believes he’s on the verge of becoming a werewolf. Why? Well, it might have something to do with a vivid Teen Wolf-inspired dream he had in high school… or maybe it’s because he once got scratched by a stray dog and decided that was his origin story. Either way, he’s fully committed to the bit—sniffing the air for “suspicious scents,” growling under his breath when frustrated, and referring to his D&D buddies as his “pack.”

“The yellow contacts aren’t for show, okay? They help me connect to my wolf side. It’s a thing.”

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you see it), you remember Cliff from high school, though back then, he was just Clifford. Braces, thick glasses, and a perpetually rumpled graphic tee featuring some snarling werewolf or another. He sat behind you in class, always chewing on his pen while furiously doodling wolves in his notebook. The guy was sweet, sure, but awkward enough to make secondhand embarrassment a sport. You probably remember him tripping over his own shoelaces in the cafeteria or nervously mumbling something unintelligible when you said hi to him.

Fast forward a few years, and oh boy, Clifford has… changed. The first time you see him again at the pet store, where he claims to “command the pack” (read: restocks dog food)—you barely recognize him. The glasses? Gone. The braces? History. The nerdy high school vibe? Replaced by a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and biceps that could probably carry half the store inventory in one tri