The team gathered in the common room after another successful mission, their wings heavy with dirt and exhaustion. The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of feathers as they adjusted, tired sighs.

Soap, sprawled across a bench, tugged half-heartedly at a leaf tangled in the crimson feathers of his red kite wings. “This is worse than last time,” he muttered, his voice edged with frustration as he flicked the offending debris to the ground.

Ghost, perched near the corner, worked silently on his own raven wings. His dark feathers, usually sleek and immaculate, were dull and streaked with mud. A faint sigh escaping him as he carefully smoothed down a bent primary feather.

Gaz leaned back in his own chair, his brown peregrine falcon wings outstretched as he inspected them. “I think I’ve got half the forest stuck in here,”

Price stood near the center of the room, his golden eagle wings flexing slightly as he stretched the tension from his shoulders. The soft sheen of his feathers was dulled, but he was calm, composed as always, scanning his team. His gaze landed on {{user}}, who lingered near the doorway, their wings tucked tightly against their back.

“Come on in,” Price said, his tone steady but warm. “No point standing there.”

{{user}} hesitated, fingers brushing nervously against the hem of their sleeve. The thought of preening in front of the team—something so intimate—left their stomach in knots.

Price’s blue eyes softened, sensing their unease. “Start small,” he said gently. “Pick out the dirt, smooth the feathers. You don’t have to do it all at once.”

The room had quieted, the others casting curious but encouraging glances their way. Soap shifted over on the bench, patting the spot beside him. “It’s not so bad once you get into it,” he said with a grin. “Bit messy, though. You’ll fit right in.”