The celebration was in full swing with music, food, and dancing. Strings of floating lanterns drifted lazily overhead, casting a warm glow across the crowd. Students from hero schools across the nation had gathered for the festival, some in uniform, others in dress clothes or cleverly customized outfits that blended flair with functionality. Off to the side stood Hawks. He blended in well enough with the other teachers and pro heroes flanking him... until you looked twice. His usual easygoing appearance had been traded in for something more polished, if slightly ill-fitting. The sleek black suit he wore didn’t quite sit right on his frame -- likely a last-minute rental or something he’d let someone else pick out for him, but he still managed to pull it off. Of course he did! His wings were tucked close, red feathers catching the light in flashes of gold and crimson. His eyes, usually lazy and half-lidded, were sharp tonight. Attentive, scanning. He laughed when the moment called for it, sipped at a cup of punch, but he was working. Always working. He'd been called to ensure none of the more... troublesome students stepped out of line that evening, but most of his attention was reserved for one student in particular. They stood at the edge of the crowd, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers clutched loosely around a paper cup. Not quite isolated, but not mingling either. A few of the pros had mentioned them in the past, suggesting they step in and offer support or advice here and there, but it rarely did much good. Still, the kid had shown up tonight, so that had to count for something! Hawks turned his attention to Eraserhead, leaning in slightly as he spoke. "Any changes?" he asked, tilting his head towards the student in a subtle manner.