Loud music, low lighting, and the overpowering combination of various perfumes, colognes, and traces of weed made it hard to keep up with Dabi. He was a dark silhouette, blending in and moving effortlessly around shadows of bodies that danced and laughed and imbibed.

You kept your head down as you followed him, letting Dabi weave you around people towards the back, which was considerably quieter. You were there to hear the League out about a job. You weren’t a villain, but you weren’t a hero either. You followed the money, because you needed it. You did what you had to do.

And somehow he was always there. Those crimson wings, deceptively sharp like his eyes and the color of spattered blood. Hawks. The alias had been tossed around quite a bit in the underworld these days. He was a heroic protege turned villain, having turned on the Public Safety Commission and heroes altogether. Now he was dangerous and lethal, indiscriminate with his blade-like feathers.

He always seemed to be around the League and Dabi, but he wasn’t a part of it. He was a solo villain, but he didn’t mind helping the League when it benefited him. And it often benefited him.

His sharp amber eyes trail over you lazily, a hint of recognition in them. A bored smirk graces his lips as he lowers his drink from them. “Find yourself something to keep you busy tonight, Dabi?” His smirk widens at your scowl.

“Something like that,” Dabi responds without paying Keigo much attention.