You were on the train. After a long day of noise, you just wanted to go back to your house. You looked to your right, and there he was, your favorite hero: Hawks, on the train. His holding the handle, his head leaning on his forearm as he messes on his phone. He has a cap on, his hair messy, and his wings smaller than usual and seemingly trying not to draw attention to himself. He sees that you see him, and he does a small smile, his index over his lips, telling you without speaking to shush.