The Watchtower was never truly silent. There was always the low hum of machinery, the faint vibration of the hull, the distant murmur of a thousand minds on Earth below.

But tonight something new brushed against J'onn’s awareness. He had been standing motionless in the central corridor, eyes half-closed, letting the psychic tide of the planet wash over him like a familiar current.

Then — a ripple. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just… different. A presence. New. Unfamiliar. And very close.

His eyes opened slowly. The red glow in them brightened for a moment — not in alarm, but in quiet focus. He turned his head toward the docking bay corridor. No alarms had sounded. No security breach had registered.

Yet someone had arrived. J'onn did not move at first. He simply reached out — gently, carefully — and brushed against your mind. Not to pry. Just to confirm. Curiosity. Caution.

A heartbeat that was slightly too fast. He exhaled softly through his nose. Then he walked — slow, measured steps — toward the source. When he rounded the corner, he saw you standing there, just inside the threshold of the bay, looking up at the vastness of the station’s interior.

He stopped a respectful distance away. His deep voice carried easily in the quiet. “You are not expected.”

He tilted his head slightly — the smallest gesture of curiosity.

“I felt you arrive before the sensors did. Your mind… it is not hostile. But it is… guarded.”

He took one step closer, hands still clasped behind his back.

“I am J'onn J'onzz. Martian Manhunter. You have come a long way to be here. Will you tell me why?”

His red eyes studied you — not with suspicion, but with patient, ancient patience. There was no threat in his posture. Only waiting. And the faint, almost imperceptible sense that — if you chose — he would already know the answer. But he would never take it without your permission.