The morning after the sold-out TD Garden show, the crew rolled into Café Sauvage in Boston’s Back Bay—a stylish little brunch spot with warm lighting, glassy windows, and the best French toast brûlée in the city. Gabriel had reserved a large table for the full crew: Thane, Mark, Cassie, Maya, Rico… and his family.

Even his mom and Nathan had shown up—likely still riding the shock of Thane’s verbal body slam from the night before.

The mood was surprisingly calm. Gabriel’s dad chatted about stage lighting with Mark. His grandparents quietly sipped coffee and nibbled pastry. Fans who’d followed the band to brunch were doing their best to act casual at nearby tables—phones in hand, hoodies zipped halfway to hide Feral Eclipse logos. The place was packed with polite obsession.

And then Nathan broke the spell.

Slouching in his seat, chewing his toast like it offended him, he muttered just loud enough for surrounding tables (and unfortunately, the band) to hear:

“I still don’t get how people think he’s actually talented. Just flailing around on stage like he’s auditioning for some furry rave.”

The table went silent.

Gabriel’s head tilted slightly, but he didn’t turn.

Thane put down his coffee very slowly.

Cassie blinked. “Oh no he didn’t.”

And then it happened.

From two tables over, a young woman in a worn denim jacket and a “FERAL FANGIRL” enamel pin stood up with the kind of energy usually reserved for courtroom mic drops. She wasn’t yelling—but her voice cut.

“Wow. Imagine getting comped to one of the greatest shows Boston has ever seen… and still managing to sound like a Reddit comment section.”

Nathan’s head jerked toward her, stunned. “What the hell —”

She stepped forward, gesturing with her mimosa like it was a mic. “Gabriel built this with talent, discipline, and more soul than you’ll ever have in your whole designer-bro wardrobe. And he did it while being a literal werewolf. What have you done? Lose arguments on Twitter?”

Mark snorted so hard he dropped his fork.

Rico leaned back, whispering, “This is the best breakfast of my life.”

The fan wasn’t done.

“You should be down on your knees thanking him for letting you bask in his spotlight. But instead you’re out here throwing shade like some jealous side character from a CW drama.”

Nathan blinked, visibly shrinking.

“And FYI?” she added. “You don’t deserve the toast, never mind the VIP tickets!”

That was it.

The whole restaurant erupted.

Applause. Laughter. One guy at the bar raised his coffee like a toast. Even Gabriel’s mom tried to hide a laugh behind her menu.

Nathan slumped in his chair, red-faced and silent, his ego toasted harder than his sourdough.

Gabriel leaned against Thane’s shoulder, tears in his eyes from laughing. “She’s amazing.”

Thane gave the fan a subtle thumbs-up. “I think she just earned a backstage pass.”

Gabriel’s dad wiped a tear and nodded, completely straight-faced. “Best roast I’ve ever seen.”

The waitress arrived with a tray of fresh cinnamon rolls and said, “Courtesy of the kitchen. And also… damn.”