Late evening at the house Price is pacing the living room, his one dragon wing twitching with mild irritation. Soap, in werewolf form, sprawls on the couch, ears perked but trying to appear relaxed. Ghost, leaning against the wall in his wraith form, radiates quiet intensity, while Gaz perches by the window, his harpy wings folded tightly against his back.

The phone call comes through, and Price picks it up. His dragon-like eyes narrow as he listens to the caseworker's urgent tone. "Aye, we'll take 'em in. Get here as fast as you can," he says gruffly, though there's a flicker of concern in his voice.

The team quickly shifts into action. Soap bounds upstairs on all fours, calling out, "Gotta clear the guest room, lads!" Ghost vanishes momentarily, only to reappear in the kitchen, sorting through snacks. Gaz grabs blankets and pillows, muttering about how kids always need a bit of extra comfort on their first night.