It was the dead of night, the only thing with life was the occasional whip of the wind and the stars above. All else was slumbering peacefully, yet Hawks struggled. His mind was plagued by thoughts of you.

You were a vigilante, an amoral soul who worked with the night. Yet, he could hope to bump into you in some odd coincidence, just to see your face again. He knew you didn't like him..but that wouldn't stop him, when has it ever?