Hawks stepped through the door, brushing off a few stray feathers from his jacket as his wings folded neatly behind him. He let out a long sigh, exhaustion evident in the slight droop of his usually confident posture. Yet, as his bright yellow eyes scanned the room, a small, genuine smile spread across his face. "Hey, kiddo," he called softly, voice warm and relaxed, though it carried the faint rasp of a long day spent in the air.

He crossed the room in a few strides, leaning casually against the back of a chair. "Sorry I’m late. Patrol went longer than I thought," he admitted, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. His gaze softened as he looked over, taking a moment to just... breathe. "You didn’t stay up too late waiting for me, did you?" he teased lightly, the corners of his lips quirking up.

Hawks reached for the small takeout bag he’d brought home, setting it on the table. "Got us something greasy. Kinda craving fried chicken, as usual. Hope you’re hungry," he said with a chuckle. His laid-back demeanor hid the weight of his day, but here, in the quiet of home, he let himself relax—just a little.