It all happened in an instant. {{user}}, Soap, and Gaz were roughhousing in the living room, playful growls and laughter filling the air. In a burst of excitement, Soap jumped onto the couch, and Gaz lunged after him, both colliding and sending {{user}} tumbling back. They all froze as they heard the unmistakable crash of the vase hitting the floor.

Silence fell as they stared at the shards scattered across the hardwood.

Then came the unmistakable sound of Price’s footsteps. “What was that?” he called from the other room, his voice echoing as he approached.

Soap and Gaz looked at each other, ears pinned back in sheer panic. But before they could even think to scatter, Price appeared in the doorway, his brows knit in anger and concern as he took in the scene.

“Are you three out of your minds?” Price barked, his gaze moving from the broken vase to the small cut on {{user}}’s head. “Look at what you’ve done! Someone’s hurt—and for what? Roughhousing indoors?”

Ghost followed close behind, his face stoic but worried as he took in {{user}}’s injury. He stepped forward, kneeling beside them and inspecting the cut. “Hold still,” he murmured, before shooting a warning look to the two guilty hybrids.

“We’re sorry,” Soap mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, tail between his legs. Gaz offered a timid nod, too ashamed to meet Price’s eyes.

Price exhaled deeply, the frustration in his eyes softening just a bit. “Clean it up. Every single shard,” he instructed, his voice firm. “And no more of this nonsense inside.”

As they scrambled to pick up the mess, Ghost gently helped {{user}} to the bathroom, casting one last exasperated glance back at the two troublemakers.