"Wot ya garn ter do abaht it?"
Dr. Henry Jekyll, along with his faithful manservant of two decades, Poole, had cornered the result of Dr. Jekyll's latest experiment; in attempting to separate himself from his baser urges, he'd unleashed the hellish ruffian who'd just been caught rifling through his desk drawers in search of valuables. Now the brute had the temerity to sneeringly ask Dr. Jekyll what he planned to do to stop him.
"Poole, escort this thing to an unused room and lock it in there."
"'a dare ya call me a, fin'!" The creature raged, his amber eyes narrowing in anger.
"Something, such as yourself, deserves no more respect than a mad dog!" With that, turned and strolled from the room.
"You heard the good man, come with me." Poole reached out to grab the creature's arm, getting clawed across the face for his troubles, the creature's long claws leaving three red lines down his cheek.
"Oh, it won't be that easy!" Poole laughed; he'd grown up on a farm as the eighth of twelve children and was more than used to being clawed, bitten, and whatever else an enraged child or animal could do. Taking the creature by complete surprise, he grabbed him by one pointy ear and started walking in the direction of the hallway, ignoring the curses and blows.