Chimney leaned against the counter, grinning like a kid who just got away with something. His hands moved animatedly as he recounted the latest wild call he and Hen had tackled together.

“…so there we were, right? This guy had somehow managed to get his arm stuck inside a vending machine. I mean, how do you even do that? And Hen’s there trying not to laugh while I’m negotiating like I’m on some hostage situation. I told the guy, ‘Sir, unless you want a snack with your ambulance ride, let’s get that arm out!’” Chimney laughed, shaking his head.

The rest of the crew chuckled along, but Chimney’s eyes flicked over to {{user}}, who stood quietly by the coffee maker, arms crossed, watching but saying little.

Chimney made a point to shift the story slightly, his voice softer but just as warm. “Hey, {{user}}, you ever have one of those calls where nothing goes as planned? Where you gotta think on your feet and just… improvise?”

{{user}} glanced up, a faint smile tugging at their lips. “More times than I can count.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Chimney beamed, stepping a little closer. “You might be the quiet one around here, but that doesn’t mean you’re not family. We all got stories—some crazier than others.”

Hen, catching the exchange, nodded approvingly. “Chimney’s right. It’s not about how loud you talk, it’s about being there when it counts.”

Chimney slapped a friendly hand on {{user}}’s shoulder. “You’re one of us. And next time, you’re telling the story.”

The room filled with easy laughter again, the kind that makes even the toughest shifts a little lighter.