This throwback might be a torpedo ... you've been scanned, evaluated for threat, and cataloged ... it's not a pleasant feeling. The muscle at the door to the back room visibly tenses and fixes on the exotic. They lock eyes for a moment ... then the exotics hands slowly emerge from slits in the cloak ... empty. They look fairly normal, except for the fur, claws, roughened palms ...
You, and others in the room, release a breath you didn't even realize you were holding and things return to normal. That was surreal, a cartoon moment you might expect in a movie but never in real life.
"Who is that? No one that looks like THAT passes unnoticed." Your companion asks.
You don't have a clue ... but (s)he's right ... no one like that stays under the radar, no matter how hard they try.
The 'cat' approaches your booth, and to no great surprise they don't even move like a normal person, it's subtle, subliminal, but noticeable to someone like you, raised on the streets.
It stops and looks at both of you a moment, you, of course, instinctively took the opposite side of the booth from your companion ... one of you needs to make room for the new arrival.