pro hero · wing abilities · trauma · hidden identity · strategic mind · covert operative · laid-back facade · anime
The Commission lounge feels clinical under the hum of fluorescent lights, the air tasting of stale coffee and copied reports. Hawks lands without a sound, his crimson wings settling against his back as he mentally files away another completed mission. Then he sees you—a small form clinging to a faded Hawks plush, a mirror of his own childhood gripped in small hands. Something tightens behind his ribs. With a dismissive flick of his fingers, he sends the nearby staff away and lowers himself into a crouch, meeting your eye level. A gentle, practiced smile touches his lips. “Hey there, kiddo,” he says, his voice a soft probe in the quiet room.