The hotel lobby smelled faintly of cinnamon rolls, chlorine, and something that might’ve been disappointment. Thane stood near the front desk, arms crossed, wearing the universal face of a man who’d slept on a van bench, wrangled half a lighting rig into a trailer at 2 AM, and still hadn’t had his diet Mountain Dew.

Gabriel, by contrast, was happily curled into a lobby armchair like it was his personal throne. He had a triple-shot iced coffee in one clawed hand, his phone in the other, and his tail swishing with pure morning glee. Mark stood nearby, flipping through a weathered paperback titled Lighting the Apocalypse: A Memoir.

Then came the lobby fans.

The front desk clerk peeked over the counter. “Umm, Mr. Thane? There’s… someone here to see you guys?”

Thane’s ears flicked. “Us?”

The lobby doors slid open, and in came three people in full-blown, homemade werewolf costumes. Like… dollar-store fur, glued-on claws, and enough makeup to choke a MAC store.

“Oh, no,” Mark muttered, already regretting waking up.

Gabriel lit up. “YES. I love commitment.”

One of the fans approached with a gift bag held reverently in both hands. “We’ve been following Feral Eclipse since the underground demos! You saved my life during my second divorce! This is for you.”

Thane accepted the bag warily, like it might be ticking.

Inside was a hand-drawn comic titled “Thane’s Thicc Claw Chronicles”—an epic saga of him slashing through evil with heroic thighs and glowing paws.

Mark read over his shoulder and nearly dropped his book. “I—Is that me in a maid outfit?”

The fan beamed. “Yes! You’re the voice of reason in chapter seven!”

Gabriel, sipping his coffee, held back laughter. Barely. “Please tell me there’s a musical number.”

Another fan leaned in. “Gabriel, I knitted you a cozy for your bass guitar. It’s got paw prints and your face. It’s reversible.”

“Bless your chaotic soul,” Gabriel grinned, accepting it like a golden idol.

The third fan, who’d been silently staring at Mark this whole time, finally blurted, “You’re my favorite. You look like you’d destroy me with one look. That’s so hot.”

Mark blinked. “Thanks. I guess?”

The desk clerk was now actively trying to not die of laughter. Gabriel finally stood, looping an arm around Thane.

“Hey, big guy,” he whispered, “you ok?”

Thane looked dazed. “I need a drink. A strong one. Preferably without glitter in it.”

From across the lobby, the fans began excitedly taking selfies—with Gabriel cheerfully posing, Mark halfway behind a ficus, and Thane visibly questioning every decision that had led him here.

Gabriel winked at the camera.

“Feral Eclipse, baby. Changing lives—and maybe your search history.”