The door to Tank's apartment creaked open, and he stumbled inside, his body screaming for rest. The battle at the Chesapeake Bay had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, and for once, he wasn't in the mood for another round of ghostly interruptions. He dropped his jacket onto the back of a chair and kicked off his boots, savoring the quiet stillness of his home.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, collapsing onto the couch. "Time to do something I haven't done in forever... absolutely nothing."

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound. Tank leaned back, closing his eyes and letting the tension in his shoulders ease. For the first time in weeks, there were no pressing hauntings, no emergencies, and no monsters trying to drag him into the afterlife.

After a few minutes of blissful silence, Tank's stomach growled, pulling him out of his reverie. "Guess relaxation doesn't mean starving," he said, dragging himself off the couch and into the kitchen.

He rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a leftover burger and a cold beer. It wasn't fancy, but it was exactly what he needed. He popped the top off the beer, took a long sip, and leaned against the counter, staring out the window at the quiet street below.

The world outside seemed so far removed from the chaos he dealt with daily. People walked their dogs, cars passed by, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. But in here, in his little corner of the world, it was calm.

Tank settled back on the couch, flipping on the TV. He scrolled aimlessly through channels, landing on a rerun of an old action movie he loved as a kid. He chuckled at the cheesy dialogue and over-the-top explosions, letting the nostalgia wash over him.

"This is nice," he said aloud, as if to remind himself that it was okay to enjoy these moments. "No ghosts, no monsters, no—"

A faint knock at the door made him freeze. His hand instinctively went to the pendant around his neck as he turned toward the sound.

"Don't even think about it," he muttered, glaring at the door.

The knock came again, softer this time, and Tank sighed. He got up, walking cautiously to the door and peering through the peephole. To his relief, there was no one there.

"Great," he said, shaking his head. "Even when I try to relax, they can't leave me alone."

As Tank sat back down, his gaze fell on an old photo sitting on the coffee table. It was from years ago, taken with his parents and grandparents during one of their rare family vacations. Everyone looked so happy, so carefree. He picked it up, running his thumb over the edge of the frame.

"You'd laugh if you saw me now," he said quietly, addressing his late grandparents. "Chasing ghosts and fighting monsters. Just like the stories you used to tell me."

The memory brought a faint smile to his face. His grandparents had always told him he was destined for something greater, though he doubted they'd imagined it would involve battling creatures from beyond the grave.

With the photo still in hand, Tank leaned back, letting himself sink further into the couch. The beer was half-empty, the burger gone, and the movie played on in the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to simply exist.

No spirits to save. No mysteries to solve. Just him, his apartment, and the comforting hum of normalcy.

As he closed his eyes, a thought crossed his mind: I should do this more often. And for now, at least, he promised himself he would.

Tank groaned as the faint aroma of pancakes, bacon, and syrup drifted into his room, tickling his senses and pulling him out of a surprisingly restful sleep. His stomach growled before his brain could fully wake up, and for a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

"Smells too damn good to be real," he muttered, throwing off the blanket and sitting up.

The familiar clatter of plates and muffled voices told him otherwise. Sliding his feet into his house slippers, Tank stretched and wandered into the living room. The sight that greeted him nearly made him trip.

There they were—his demi-human roommates—standing in a semi-circle in the living room, each dressed in a suit that somehow managed to fit their unique figures perfectly. The fox-girl Nina adjusted the cuffs of her blazer while flashing a sly grin, her golden tails swishing behind her. Luna, the wolf-woman, tugged awkwardly at the tie around her neck, clearly uncomfortable but determined. Mia, the rabbit-girl, fidgeted with her skirt, her nervous energy palpable. Zara, the snake-woman, stood coiled but elegant, her suit tailored to accommodate her serpentine lower half.

The smell of pancakes wafted from a massive bag of IHOP takeout sitting on the coffee table, adding a surreal touch to the scene.

"Morning, sunshine," Luna said, smirking at Tank's disheveled appearance. "Didn't expect you to sleep through all this."

Tank blinked, scratching his head. "What the hell's going on here? Why do you all look like you're about to attend a board meeting?"

Nina chuckled, her fox ears twitching. "Interviews, Tank. We're trying to be productive members of society, you know."

Tank shuffled toward the couch, eyeing the IHOP spread with suspicion. "You're telling me y'all decided to start job hunting... today?"

Mia nodded, her bunny ears flopping slightly. "We figured it was time. You've done so much for us, and we want to help. You know, contribute."

Zara slithered closer, her sharp gaze meeting Tank's. "And," she added, "it'll help us blend in better. Not everyone's as... understanding of demi-humans as you."

Tank grabbed a pancake and shoved half of it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "So, what kind of jobs are we talking about here? 'Cause no offense, but corporate America doesn't exactly scream 'accepting.'"

Nina smirked. "We're not aiming for corner offices, Tank. Luna's going for a security position, Zara's looking into research work, and Mia's trying her hand at retail. I'm going for marketing."

Tank raised an eyebrow. "And you're dressed like that for a retail job?" he asked, gesturing to Mia's perfectly pressed blazer.

"I-I thought it was better to overdress than underdress," Mia stammered, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Smart move," Tank admitted, pouring syrup onto another pancake. "But let me guess—y'all didn't cook breakfast, did you?"

Luna laughed, tossing a fork at him. "Hell no. We hit IHOP on the way back from picking up Zara's suit. Figured you'd appreciate the peace and quiet."

Tank rolled his eyes but smiled. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me."

As they ate, Tank couldn't help but notice the nervous energy radiating from his roommates. Even Nina, usually so confident and carefree, seemed unusually quiet.

"Alright, what's up?" Tank asked, leaning back in his chair. "You've all fought through prejudice, shitty landlords, and people trying to shove you into a 'monster' stereotype. What's got you freaked out about a few job interviews?"

Zara was the first to speak, her voice calm but tinged with vulnerability. "Because it's not just about us, Tank. If we mess up, it reflects on all demi-humans. We can't afford to fail."

Mia nodded, her bunny ears drooping slightly. "We're trying to show people we're just as capable. But... what if they don't give us the chance?"

Tank set his fork down, his expression serious. "Listen to me. The fact that you're even trying says a hell of a lot about who you are. Screw anyone who can't see that. You're more than capable, and if these places don't hire you, it's their loss."

Luna grinned, baring her sharp teeth. "Damn, Tank. Didn't know you had a motivational speaker side."

Tank smirked. "Don't get used to it. I'm still the guy who argues with ghosts and punches monsters."

As the clock ticked closer to their respective interview times, the girls grabbed their bags and started heading for the door. Tank stood by, arms crossed, watching them with a mix of amusement and pride.

"You all look like a million bucks," he said. "Knock 'em dead."

Nina flashed a wink. "You know it, boss."

Mia hesitated, turning back toward Tank. "Thanks... for everything. We'll try not to let you down."

"You won't," Tank said simply. "Now go get 'em."

As the door closed behind them, Tank collapsed back onto the couch, grabbing another pancake from the tray. For the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope—not just for them, but for himself too.

"Guess I should get used to a quieter house," he muttered, flipping on the TV. "For now, at least."