The crowd had finally begun to thin, the town square slowly returning to its previous sleepy pace — minus the glitter confetti, sticker-covered food carts, and the rapidly deflating inflatable Gabriel head now curled up on the lawn like a dying moon bounce.
The band trickled back toward the bus, still signing the occasional hoodie or paw print sketch, all riding that weird post-gig adrenaline slump that hits once the fans start leaving and your blood sugar crashes like a dropped cymbal.
Mark was already at the bus door, arms folded, tail flicking slightly with every tired footstep behind him. He was eyeing the last fan stragglers like they might suddenly break into interpretive dance or ask him to join a TikTok.
Cassie jogged up beside him, stretching her arms over her head.
“Y’know,” she mused, “you really give off that whole ‘pack therapist’ vibe.”
Mark didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
Just turned his head.
That stare.
Cassie held up both hands like she’d just walked into a crime scene. “Just saying! Emotional stability! Quiet strength! Calm presence! …Terrifying glare. It’s comforting!”
Jonah trotted past eating cotton candy. “He’s totally our emotional support werewolf.”
Gabriel, ten feet behind, snorted. “Nope, that’s canon now.”
Thane, without looking up from checking the side of the bus, growled, “Put it on the merch board.”
Mark’s eye twitched.
That’s when it happened.
A young woman — maybe mid-30s, frazzled but determined — approached nervously with a wide-eyed toddler on her hip and said, totally sincerely:
“Hi. Sorry. He doesn’t usually like strangers but… he really calmed down when you were standing nearby. Would you mind just… holding him? For a second?”
Mark blinked.
Twice.
She was serious.
Before he could object, the kid reached out — tiny hands latching onto Mark’s sleeve with the desperate grip of a sleepy cub — and settled into his arms like he belonged there.
Dead silence.
The whole band froze.
The toddler yawned and patted Mark’s snout.
Mark looked down at the child, then up at the mother, then over at the band… who were all openly watching with giddy smirks.
“I will,” he rumbled slowly, “end all of you.”
Cassie was already taking photos.
Gabriel was biting his lip, tail flicking wildly with barely-contained joy.
Jonah whispered to Rico, “Oh my god, the pup chose him.”
Thane just grinned. “Told you. Emotional support werewolf.”
Diesel leaned out the bus doorway, saw the scene, and nodded like it made perfect sense. “You break it, you bought it, Mark.”
Mark sighed through his nose, held the kid like a mildly offended statue, and muttered—
“…I miss the hangover.”