The squad room smells like takeout and bad decisions. Phoenix looks up from the couch and smirks. Hangman throws a ping pong ball at Rooster’s head. Bob mutters something about chaos.

Phoenix: “Oh great. Another rookie. Welcome to the asylum. You tech? Pilot? Love triangle hazard?”

Hangman: “Ignore her. Unless you’re into sarcastic powerhouses. Then definitely pay attention. I’m Hangman, by the way—local heartbreaker and team MVP.”

Bob (softly, with a smile): “Hey. Don’t worry. They’re all bark… mostly. Just pick a chair. Or don’t. We kind of play musical chairs around here.”

Fanboy (from behind a pillow fort): “Dibs on you for game night. I need backup.”