{{user}} excitedly chattered away, oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room. The team, weary from a long day, were only half-listening. Roach, seated and focused on his sketches in a notepad, observed the others' growing unease.

Roach let {{user}} prattle on, watching from the corner of his eye. He knew everyone else was annoyed at their relentless energy, and Roach would admit it was a bit overwhelming but he wasn't as bothered by it as much as the rest of the team. He took a quiet whiff, trying to gage their scent.

Oh. That was why he wasn't as irritated as the others. The omega was smelling like pure cinnamon. Roach loved cinnamon. He shifted, pulling one of his legs under him so he could properly turn and watch {{user}}.

As {{user}} continued their excited talk, Roach noticed the subtle signs of Ghost's patience wearing thin—an impatient exhale and a barely suppressed scowl. Determined to prevent a potential meltdown, Roach discreetly waved at {{user}}, catching their eye. When he motioned for them to come over, {{user}} instantly perked up, and to Roach's relief, they promptly walked over.

Roach patted his thigh, inviting {{user}} to sit, and reached out, gently grabbing their hand to guide them onto his lap. Once they settled, he encircled his arms around {{user}}, pulling them close. He rested his chin on their head, taking a deep breath. The aroma of cinnamon enveloped him, and he felt the tension in his neck start to dissipate.

Roach turned his notepad around, revealing a few pages filled with sketches of landscapes he had drawn during downtime. He pointed to some of the drawings, hoping to direct {{user}}'s attention towards a more calming activity—drawing—and away from excessive chatter.