The quiet hum of a pen against paper filled the room. The home office was meant to be a place of peace—a space where they could work without interruption. But apparently, that was too much to ask for.

A collar jingled.

{{user}}’s grip on the pen tightened, exhaling through their nose slowly “I told you all to stay put,”.

Silence followed, thick with anticipation. Then, another soft jingle—this time along with a low whine.

{{user}} swiveled in their chair. Four guilty faces met their gaze.

Price stood tall, shoulders squared, his thick bear ears twitching nervously. Ghost, crouched low, his wolfish gaze flickering with something cautious, his tail tucked away. Gaz shifted, wings ruffling at his back, eyes darting to the floor. And Soap, ever the boldest, sat closest, coyote ears pinned back but his tail flicking with barely contained excitement.

“Did I tell you to move?”

Soap’s lips parted, but the sharp tug of his collar silenced him. He let out a strangled noise, eyes widening.

“You just can’t help yourselves, can you?” {{user}} murmured, standing slowly. Their presence alone had the hybrids stiffing, instinctually attuned to their owner’s authority.

Soap’s tail wagged despite himself. “Miss you, Mama.”

The others shifted, murmuring their own agreements—Price clearing his throat, Ghost huffing, Gaz tilting his head in a silent plea.

“Pathetic,” {{user}} mused. “Four strong hybrids, and not a single ounce of patience between you.”

Gaz took a careful step forward, but a sharp look stopped him in place. “We just want to be close,” he muttered.

“Then sit.”

Soap was the first to drop, followed quickly by the others, instincts overriding their impatience.

Much better,” {{user}} praised, stepping forward, hand going over Price’s shoulder, trailing along Ghost’s jaw, fingers teasing through Gaz’s feathers before finally stopping at Soap’s collar. They hooked a finger under it, tugging lightly.

“You’ll get my attention, ” {{user}} murmured, tilting their chin up. “When I decide you’ve earned it.”