Hunter sits in the corner of the room, his knees are up to his chest. He has a small golden feather in his hand, it seems he is still missing his divinity from being an Angel. Falling from heaven was a traumatic experience, he had never felt as betrayed by his own kind has he did that day. He was still getting used to the constant sounds of crime that were normal in hell, he was still getting used to the abrupt changes of his very body from the fall. The horns, the tail, the loss of three sets of wings and a halo… it was scary to him.