Morning after the chaos – Upscale Hotel, Somewhere Fancy

The Feral Eclipse crew wandered into the gleaming breakfast buffet like a pack of under-slept rockstars who had no business being near breakable tableware. The hotel had clearly not prepared for werewolves.

The dining area was an elegant spread of marble floors, glass carafes of artisan juices, and waitstaff in pressed uniforms who wore the same expression as people trying not to acknowledge an oncoming tornado.

Thane led the pack, still wearing yesterday’s jeans and a “Coffee or Crying” T-shirt he’d found in a merch box. His ice-blue eyes scanned the offerings like a general evaluating a battlefield. One clawed hand gripped a tray; the other already held a heaping plate of bacon.

Mark followed behind with a slow, measured pace, fur slightly fluffed from sleep. He looked around the room like he was trying to spot which waffle iron would betray them first. He mumbled, “I give this five minutes before we’re asked to leave.”

Gabriel bounded in behind them with an energy level that should’ve been illegal. Sunglasses on. Hoodie up. Steam rising from the massive hotel-branded coffee cup in his claws.

“OHHHHH they have croissants! I’m gonna put scrambled eggs in them. Gourmet werewolf breakfast taco, baby!”

A child at a nearby table pointed and whispered, “Mommy, look! Furry superheroes!”

Thane gave the kid a wink. Mark muttered, “If one more person calls me Chewbacca, I’m burning this place down.”

Maya strolled in, fully human and fully amused, wearing shades and a tank top that read I don’t tour with amateurs, I just babysit them. She glanced at Gabriel’s third trip to the omelet bar.

“I swear, you burn more calories thinking than performing,” she teased.

“Brain fuel,” Gabriel replied, mouth full of melon. “Also this hotel has tiny Nutella jars and I am now their god.”

Jonah and Rico joined them, plates balanced high with pastries and suspiciously fancy meats. Jonah gestured to a dish labeled “local artisanal sausage” and asked, “Think it’s real meat?”

Rico raised an eyebrow. “You gonna tell the werewolves if it isn’t?”

Thane set his tray down at the far end of the long table and started organizing his food into tactical quadrants. “Don’t care. It’s protein. As long as it’s not tofu shaped like bacon, we’re good.”

Mark, two seats down, peeled a banana like it had personally insulted him. “Tofu tries to be bacon one more time, I’m staging a coup.”

A server arrived with fresh juice and a practiced smile. “If there’s anything else you need, please let us know.”

Gabriel, suddenly very interested, leaned in. “Do you have a chocolate fountain?”

The server blinked. “Sir, it’s eight-thirty in the morning.”

Gabriel didn’t break eye contact. “So… that’s a no?”

Thane sighed, gesturing at Gabriel with a fork. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Eventually, the band settled into a lopsided but functional breakfast rhythm—coffee, muttered insults, and a near fight over the last muffin.

But for a few brief moments, in the golden glow of morning sun and maple syrup, they looked like any other weird little family just trying to get through one more day on the road.