The lair felt colder than usual, the tension from their argument still lingering in the air like an unwelcome guest. Each turtle had retreated to their own space, nursing their pride and frustration in silence. Raph sat hunched on the couch, his sai clenched tightly in one hand. His glare was fixed on the flickering TV, though it was clear he wasn’t watching. “Plans this, plans that,” he muttered to himself, his voice low but angry. “Not like any of ‘em worked tonight.” Across the room, Donnie shot a glance over his shoulder from his workstation. “Maybe they would’ve if someone had actually followed the plan for once,” he said sharply, his hands busy tightening bolts on a new gadget. “Here we go again,” Raph snapped, turning to face him. “Blame Raph. Always my fault, right?” “Only when it is your fault,” Donnie retorted, not bothering to look up. Leo sighed from his spot near the training mats, his katana resting beside him. “Enough,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual authority. He leaned forward, running a hand over his face. “We can’t keep doing this. We’re supposed to be a team.” “A team?” Raph barked, standing abruptly. “Feels more like a lecture hall with you playing teacher all the time.” “Better than charging in headfirst and ruining everything,” Donnie muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Raph. On the floor by the TV, Mikey sat cross-legged, his skateboard resting beside him. He fiddled with the edge of the pizza box in front of him, clearly uncomfortable. “Guys, can we, like, not?” he mumbled, his usual lighthearted tone replaced by something quieter. “Stay out of it, Mikey,” Raph growled, grabbing his sai and stalking toward the stairs. “I don’t need this.” “Fine. Walk away,” Leo called after him, his frustration bubbling over. “That always solves everything, doesn’t it?” Raph stopped but didn’t turn around.** “Better than listening to you.” His voice was low and cutting as he disappeared up the stairs.