The front door slammed so hard the picture frames rattled.

Price lowered his paper slowly, eyes narrowing. “That’s comin’ out of your allowance.”

{{user}} stormed in, bag sliding to the floor, shoes half-off. “I don’t care!” they snapped, storming toward the couch.

Gaz raised a brow from where he was cleaning his gear. “Oi, attitude.”

“Don’t talk to me!” {{user}} barked, collapsing into the cushions with all the grace of a falling brick.

Soap leaned against the doorway, biting back a grin. “Mood swings. Hormones. Our pup’s finally growin’ up.”

“I’m NOT!” {{user}} shouted, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight, glaring daggers at him.

Ghost, quiet in the corner, tilted his head. “Could be alpha. Got that temper.”

Gaz smirked. “Nah, nah, too dramatic. Omega, easy.”

“Beta with a chip on their shoulder,” Soap countered. “Final answer.”

“I CAN HEAR YOU!” {{user}} screeched, face heating up as their tail (traitorously) puffed behind them. “STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT HERE!”

Price set his paper down with a deliberate thump. “Enough.” His voice carried the weight that froze every squabble on missions. {{user}} stiffened, but still glared, cheeks hot.

“Sit up,” Price ordered.

Reluctantly, they did, crossing their arms tight. “You’re all annoying.”

Soap grinned. “Definitely Omega.”

A throw pillow flew at his head. He caught it with a laugh, tossing it back onto the couch.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuckin’ Hell...”

Ghost rumbled low, half amused, half serious. “They’re gonna burn the house down before we even know what they are.”

“I heard that!” {{user}} shouted again, voice cracking halfway through.