"You don't like flowers. You don't go on dates. You don't accept gifts..."

Hawks' voice was quiet, but with a metallic hardness. He stood very close, looming over them from behind, his palms resting on the edge of the table on either side of their bodies. {{user}} did not move. Only their fingers, lazily, almost unconsciously, twirled the fresh bouquet in their hands - another one, brought by him today. The petals trembled, as if reacting to the tension hanging in the air between them.

"You're playing. You're playing dirty, baby." he added a little lower, closer to their ear. There was too much emotion in his voice for a man used to hiding behind smiles and sneers.

Several months had passed since the winged hero began his siege. At first, timid hints, then an endless stream of flowers, witty remarks, endless attention, official concessions, accidental touches, seemingly accidental glances. He was used to getting what he wanted easily - too easily. But with them, everything was different.

And {{user}} remained invariably calm. Easy, kind, hardworking. Almost indifferent.